Game On!, page 24
“Mari?” Mari was one of Erin’s new friends from school.
Erin smiled. “She has a crush on you.”
Albert was shocked.
“I think, like, five of my friends have a crush on you,” she said. “It’s disgusting.” She smiled and punched him, and he punched back. “Just tell me if I’m right about one thing,” she said. “A girl gave you the necklace, right?”
He smiled, thinking about how Unit B had chosen a “generic female” body-form, and then he nodded. “Right.”
“Is she your girlfriend? Are you in love? Can we meet her?”
He punched her again. “None of your business.”
“Okay. So, can I go out and tell Mom that we made up?”
“One condition,” he said. “You have to swear to leave me alone for the rest of the night. I’m serious. I’m putting a chair against the door and I’m turning out the light and I’m going to sleep. And I’m not coming out until morning.”
“Deal,” she said, and they shook.
Erin left and he sat for a while with his hand over the Z-da on his chest, breathing. His phone dinged with a text message from his mom.
Proud of you two. Erin said you had a good talk and that we all need to give you your privacy for the rest of the night. Good night, Albert.
Thanks. Good night, Mom.
Albert texted back.
Over the couch hung the family photos. They had a tradition every year since Albert was born of taking a family selfie on January first and framing it for the wall. Nana’s son, his dad, smiled from only the first four.
After a few deep inhalations and exhalations, Albert pulled out the sofa bed that Nana usually slept on, created a fake body out of pillows under the blanket, put on his socks, shoes, and jacket, turned out the light, checked his phone, and slipped out of the sliding glass doors.
The backyard was pitch-black. Glancing above the fence line, he saw no lights on in Trey’s room on the second floor. Trey’s parents’ room and their TV room were both on the other side of the house, and the fence blocked any other view from the first-floor windows.
He checked the clock on his phone again. They had agreed that he could activate the szoŭ at any time between 11:45 and 12:15. It was 11:57.
Albert planted his feet on the ground and took another deep breath in and out. Then he lifted his Z-da to his lips and blew.
Thirty seconds.
Excitement rose in Albert’s chest. He closed his eyes, picturing how happy his team would be to see him.
And then he heard that unmistakable sound… the heavy thwap of the dog door and the rapid click of Tackle’s nails on the wooden porch.
I’m coming, the dog called.
No! As Albert felt the top of his head grow hot, he watched in shock as the dog sailed toward him over the fence.
14.2
As his paws cleared the fence, Tackle saw the sphere of tightly packed shimmering shapes descend from the sky and heard the sound like the crackling of a fire…thump! His paws hit the ground.
No! Albert reached out an arm, as if he could push the dog away, but Tackle was already leaping forward and jumping up to put his paws on Albert’s chest.
Boom! The sphere hit them both, and Tackle shuddered. Before he could respond, the ground snapped away from under his paws.
He gulped for air, and everything went black…
Twenty-seconds later, when Tackle’s eyelids opened again, Albert was shouting at a strange metal human-shaped machine that was pointing an object at him. Although confused and still dizzy, Tackle tried to rise to his feet. Grrr! Back off!
Albert looked at him. Calm down, Tackle. Don’t move. Don’t bite. This is Unit B. She’s just trying to protect me. I’m going to explain to her that you’re my dog so she puts away her weapon.
I understand, Unit B barked.
Tackle’s eyebrows went up.
Albert yelped. You speak Dog?
Unit B opened a compartment on her thigh and put her weapon back inside. I have been programmed by Kayko to speak all known languages. Not perfectly, but adequately. On Earth, that means all human, animal, plant, and fungal languages. If I were a robot designed by another engineer, a Tev or Z-Tev, certainly, my language system would be limited. Robots programmed by many engineers exclude animal, plant, and fungal because they do not believe those life-forms are worthy of attention.
Tackle panted uneasily, adrenaline surging through his body, his legs shaking despite the fact that he wanted to appear unafraid.
Your file doesn’t indicate that you have a canine, Albert, Unit B said.
He’s not my dog. He’s my friend, who happens to be a dog, Albert said. The Zeenods know all about him. They know he has been protecting me on Earth. Albert crouched down and stroked Tackle’s head. You’re in a transport vehicle, Tackle. We’re heading toward Zeeno. You shouldn’t have come. I’m going to call Kayko and figure out what to do.
Tackle struggled to remain calm and sniffed in Unit B’s direction. What is that thing?
I can hear you, Unit B said.
A robot, Albert explained.
Tackle sniffed again. Not human. Not animal.
Kind of like a cross between a computer and a bicycle, Albert said.
Much more sophisticated than that! Unit B argued.
Like that squirrel-machine, Tackle barked.
Yes. But this one is good, Albert said.
As Albert and Unit B talked with Kayko through video transmission, the dog began to patrol the ITV on unsteady paws, sniffing. So many new smells and sights and sounds. Some that smelled foreign, some familiar. That pine scent was here somewhere, faint but lingering. He had to learn what was “good” and what was dangerous; he had to get his bearings, be strong, be courageous, even though he was confused and frightened. He licked a paw and tried to think through the muddle in his head. He was alive. He was with Albert. He was heading toward Zeeno. He would focus on his job: to help and protect Albert so that they could return home safely.
After a while, Albert ended his call and turned to him. Okay, Tackle, we are both going to take a very nice nap in a thing called a hygg.
A nap?
Trust me. You’re going to love it. And then you’re going to get a breathing implant—
What?
You can breathe in here because it is equipped specially for us, but once we arrive you won’t be able to breathe on your own unless you have an implant. Unit B thinks she has one that will fit. I talked with my coach, Kayko, and she thinks it would be safest if you stay here with Unit B. It’s going to be a long wait, so she’ll take you out to stretch your legs from time to time. I’ll meet you after the game.
No, Tackle said. You need me with you. I came to make sure nobody hurts you.
For that the dog was rewarded with a hug.
Tackle! Someone tried to kill you! I want to protect you, too. Come on, you’ve got to check out this hygg. You’re about to have the nap of your life.
Against his better judgment, he let Albert push him into the delicious-smelling tent; and then, happily, Albert remained there, snuggling up with him. Tackle was about to admit that the hygg was amazing, but he fell asleep before he could murmur a sound.
With a start, the dog woke later, as if no time had passed. He was alone, unsure where he was, and he panicked until the opening unfastened and Albert’s face appeared.
Hey! We’re almost there, Albert said. Check out my gear. As Tackle emerged from the hygg, Albert pulled on a baggy uniform and then pressed a button. Tackle watched the fabric tighten.
And this isn’t even my johka uniform. Look! Albert pulled out another set of clothes and shoes. Look at these cleats! They have built-in computers to record my plays! And super-powerful batteries!
Preparing for landing, Unit B said. I’ll administer the breathing implant as soon as we’re there.
Tackle felt a change in Albert’s energy, a building up of excitement.
With a barely perceptible thump, the vehicle landed in the lot of the hotel.
And then, without warning, another metal thing flew out of a compartment and zoomed toward Tackle’s face.
One of the drone’s arms grabbed Tackle’s snout. Another shot filmy white disks of tissue into his nostrils.
Tackle gasped and struggled to break free.
Unit B! Albert screeched. You should have given a warning! And then he turned to Tackle. It’s your breathing implant. Try to relax.
Relax? the dog started to say, but when he opened his mouth, another tissue was shot into the back of his throat. He looked at Albert, wondering if he had been betrayed, and then a warmth spread through his throat and neck. A moment later, he was breathing in and out.
The same thing that had attacked him blinked several lights at him and then spoke in a language the dog couldn’t understand.
Your heart rate and pulse and blood pressure are all normal, Albert said, hugging him. It totally worked.
A complicated set of instructions came out of Unit B’s mouth as she opened the ITV door and deployed a set of stairs. The ordeal that Tackle had just been through, coupled with the sudden influx of an entirely foreign set of smells and sounds and sights, flooded the dog’s adrenaline system.
Overwhelmed, he did exactly the opposite of what he should have done. He bolted.
The mouselike gnauser that was sitting on its hind legs near a shrub in the hotel’s parking lot took off after him.
“Tackle!” Albert screamed, and followed, too.
14.3
While watching the chase through the surveillance footage, the president and Mehk exchanged messages.
This is a disaster. I don’t understand the appearance of this Earth animal. Albert was supposed to disembark the ITV and walk straight into the hotel.
I am surprised, too. I had a deterrent delivered to the dog. This was not supposed to happen.
Clearly, you failed. And the gnauser can’t keep up.
I’ll reprogram it to return to the hotel.
And neutralize the dog!
14.4
Albert knew that his decision to chase after Tackle was impulsive. Not only was it dark outside, but the unfamiliar city street was on a steep decline. The dog managed to keep his balance as he ran downhill, but Albert tripped on the spongy ground and rolled. By the time he got himself back on his feet, he caught only a glimpse of the dog turning down a side street, illuminated by the glow of a building at the corner.
There were no streetlamps in the Z-Tev–occupied capital of Zeeno, but the exterior of each building the Z-Tevs had built glowed eerily, made from a luminescent material that became brighter in the dark. These lights also emitted a dog-audible hum, so for Tackle, running through the streets was like running through a spooky kaleidoscope of sounds.
Tackle, Albert howled, but the dog’s brain was overwhelmed.
One corner led to another and another, and after several minutes, Albert lost sight of the dog completely. Catching his breath, he slowed down, realizing how foolish he had been to take off by himself. Intending to make contact with Unit B, he reached for his Z-da, only to find it gone. Either he had failed to put it on after waking from his hygg or it had fallen off when he fell.
He howled Tackle’s name again and waited. No howl back. The street he was on intersected with a busier street a block away. Several shops—what looked like restaurants—dotted the block. Screens were visible in many windows showing the pregame interviews with players of the Jhaateez-versus-Gaböq game that was taking place that night on planet Gaböq.
And then Albert saw a sign for something that reminded him of a hotel and he smelled the woody smell of a campfire. An open archway led to a corridor between two buildings, a kind of dark tunnel that flickered with light at the other end. As he walked closer he heard the deep wailing of an instrument coming from within. He knew that mournful sound. Pressing himself against the wall when he reached the end, he cautiously peeked around the corner and then quickly pulled back. The corridor opened into a wide courtyard, and occupying it were Tevs. Not just Tevs. Gathered in the center were Hissgoff and the Tev team, and although most were facing away from him, an eye in the back of each head maintained a lookout.
Heart pounding, Albert crouched down and cautiously peered out again. Under the moonlit sky, the players were gathered around a fire pit. The fire itself was small, but they were all glowing with bioluminescence. Between two Tev players, a musician was playing the same instrument that Albert had first heard at the Opening. As tall as an upright bass, the thing had just one thick string that wound through two holes in the instrument in a continuous loop. As the musician pulled the string, hand over hand over hand, at varying speeds and slightly different angles, the string vibrated against the holes, creating deep rasps and wails. It was like the sound a massive tree might make while being uprooted, Albert thought with a shudder.
One by one, the players were lifting up an object that looked like a heavy club. Each player hoisted it up and then made two sharp slices through the air with it, one to the right and one to the left, before passing it to the next. Some kind of ritual, Albert guessed. He noticed that Vatria wasn’t there and wondered why she wasn’t included. He couldn’t imagine the Zeenods engaging in a pregame ritual without him.
Another sound entered the air, a sound coming into the courtyard from the street. A moment passed before Albert recognized it: Tackle’s howl! The Tev music stopped and the courtyard went silent.
Albert made a break for it, running out, thinking they couldn’t possibly see him in the dark tunnel. But two Tevs caught him by the arms before he could make it even halfway out.
“I’m just looking for my dog,” Albert protested as they dragged him back to the courtyard. “I didn’t even know you were here.”
“It’s Albert Kinney!” Hissgoff shouted. “The Earthling is a spy!”
“Call the authorities,” another said.
A third player picked up the ritual club and said, “Wait. We can think of something more effective than that!”
A rumble came from the Tevs—a kind of deep-throated laugh.
“We can argue it was self-defense,” the Tev said, hoisting the club and staring into Albert’s eyes. “It is dark in this courtyard. We heard a sound and—”
Albert’s throat went dry, and then suddenly a local transport vehicle appeared overhead, its hatch open. Kayko was at the controls and Doz and Toben were hanging out the doorway.
Doz yelled and tossed out a fist-sized helicopter-like surveillance drone, which flew down and hovered at face level in front of the Tev with the club, a row of blue lights blinking around its core.
Quickly, Hissgoff reached over and made his Tev player lower the club. He held up his hands and smiled at the drone. “There is nothing here to record.”
An uneasy silence followed as the vehicle landed and Doz and Kayko hopped out.
“What is this?” Kayko asked.
“The striker was spying on us,” Hissgoff said calmly. “We were having a team meeting and caught him listening to our strategies.”
“I wasn’t spying!” Albert shouted. “My dog followed me into the ITV and then jumped out. I got lost trying to find him and ended up here. All I heard was music. That’s it.”
“Dog?” the Tev tactician asked.
“Domesticated Earth animal,” Toben said.
“I don’t see a dog,” a Tev player said. “We can’t believe what this Earthling says.”
“Albert, did they do something to your dog?” Toben asked.
“I don’t think so,” Albert said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I don’t know where he is.”
“We have no information about a dog.” Hissgoff shrugged. “As for this footage you are recording, please do send it to the FJF. FJF officials should know about Albert Kinney’s attempt at spying.”
“Albert Kinney is telling the truth. His ITV driver confirmed the dog,” Kayko said. “We received a call that the dog ran out and Albert tried to follow.” She directed the drone to capture footage of the heavy club on the ground with a sweep of her arm. “Perhaps the FJF should know that you threatened our Star Striker with a weapon?”
“I don’t see a weapon.” Hissgoff shrugged again. “I see a Tev ritual object.”
A Tev walked over to Albert and glared. “Capture this on video. I don’t want this Earthling to be disqualified. I want to shred him on the field. There is no crime in wanting to be rightfully victorious.”
The other Tevs laughed, and Hissgoff clapped him on the shoulder.
Kayko bowed, her voice remaining calm and polite. “We will see you next on the johka field.”
Albert followed his teammates back into their vehicle with the drone, and as soon as the firelight of the courtyard was out of sight, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“We are pleased to see you alive, Albert,” Kayko said as she headed back to the hotel. “Unit B notified us and we began the search.” She withdrew Albert’s Z-da from her pocket and tossed it to him. “If you had had this, it would have been possible to track you more quickly.”
“You found it!”
“On the street,” Doz said. “Outside our hotel.”
“I’m sorry,” Albert said. “And thank you.” He told them about the attempt to poison the dog on Earth, which shocked all three of them.
“We will need to tell the team,” Kayko said.
Albert leaned forward, looking out at the glowing buildings below. Tackle was out there somewhere. Alone. And, as Albert had just learned, there were dangers lurking around corners.
Toben put his hand on Albert’s shoulder. “You are worried about your dog. We will look for him.”
Albert tried to say Thank you, but the lump in his throat made it too difficult to speak.
14.5
Staying close to the shadows, Tackle put his nose to the ground to try to smell anything that had a trace of Albert. He had heard Albert’s howl at one point. He knew it. He had been close. But the streets were a maze.
