Chapter Seven
RIGHT UP UNTIL IT HAPPENED, Luciana was thoroughly enjoying herself.
She and Brice had the box to themselves tonight.
The game meant nothing to most people because neither team would qualify for the finals, even if they won the game.
Luciana guessed that the Association staff had better things to do.
Yet the stall seats below and around them were all full, and the fans cheerful, despite the lame duck status of the game.
The Void Hounds were giving it their all, too.
When she commented on it, Brice said, “That’s the team philosophy, right there.
They started out as a no-name team, with no uniform or colors or even a coach.
They got in the tank and played their hearts out, and the fans loved them for it.
That’s where their original name came from.
Mongrels United. They were a scrappy bunch of misfits who won the final, their first season out, because they never gave up, even though most of the ship thought they were laughable. ”
“Is that why their uniforms are almost all white, now?” Luciana asked.
“They used the basic exercise clothing that the printers will print for free, to start,” Brice said in agreement. “They’ve kept that pared down look ever since.”
The Panthers, a Palatine team, didn’t look nearly as enthusiastic. Then the Hounds scored a goal, and the mood of the game shifted. It was as though the Panthers had rolled up their sleeves.
The game felt real, now. Luciana laughed as the groundsmen fought it out in the bottom zone, each trying to reach the ball, which was a deadweight right then, sitting at the bottom of the tank, the electronics blinking to show that it was still responsive.
The white uniform on the Hounds’ groundsmen made them seem even larger than their well-muscled bodies were. Luciana wondered what Brice had looked like in the uniform. When she had a moment, she would dig through the archives on the Forum and see if she could find images of him from those days.
The Panthers groundsman broke free of the Hound groundsman, lunged for the ball with the slow, wading movement players used in the heavy zone, gripped the ball, and spun in a slow circle, bringing the ball with him.
He released the ball, which flew in a high arc toward the waiting players floating in the zero-gee zone.
They stretched out their arms to catch the ball…and it zigged away from them.
Luciana laughed. She hadn’t known the ball could do that.
“What the hell?” Brice said.
The ball’s new trajectory was directly toward the back wall of the tank, between the two goal mouths.
The wall was transparent there, too, as it was all around the tank.
On that side of the tank, girders and platforms had been built all the way up to the top of the tank.
Players and other game officials used the platforms to access the tank.
There were two access panels. One at the bottom of the tank, the other right at the top.
At the start of the first game she had seen, Luciana had watched in horror as team members had dived from the platform, through the top hatch, their arms out wide, to float through the zero-gee level and wave at the fans.
She fully expected that this time, the ball would bounce harmlessly off the walls as it always did, even though it seemed to be going very fast.
“Too fast,” Brice muttered, and she glanced at him. He was sitting up, his expression tense.
The ball didn’t bounce off the wall. It smashed right through it. It cannoned into the girders behind the wall and the girder bent with a deep, vibrating groan. The platform above it sagged.
Brice lurched to his feet.
The ball hadn’t stopped. It bounced off the first girder and rammed into a second, that made an equally terrible sound.
Play had stopped. The players all hung in mid-air, staring at the cracked wall with the gaping hole, and the ball behind it. The ball was still whizzing with ferocious energy, hitting girders, walls, the back of the tank, more girders.
“Hit the kill switch!” Brice shouted, making Luciana jump. She tore her gaze away from the back of the tank and saw that he wasn’t shouting at her, or at the players in the tank. He was speaking into the terminal on the wall.
Someone jumped to obey, for the ball abruptly stopped its mad progress, all the electronics on its surface switched off, and it dropped to the floor.
Brice came back to his seat, his gaze on the players.
“The wall, Brice?” Luciana murmured.
“It won’t shatter. It can’t. That happened once, a long time ago, and they build the walls differently now.”
She relaxed.
“I told them to get the players out of there, anyway,” Brice said. “This game is over.”
She didn’t move. She knew that Brice would make sure that the situation was under control first.
The tankball players were leaving. They were swimming through the zero-gee zone, tugging each other over to the ladders on either side, and pulling themselves down to the middle zone.
Luciana guessed that once every player was on the ladders, the gravity would be switched to normal, so they could all descend to the bottom.
The groundsmen were striding, their arms swinging, heading for the hatch, which was open now.
That was when the low, long metallic groan sounded. Luciana would never forget that sound.
Everyone froze. Everyone. The fans who had got to their feet, preparing to leave, all stopped and looked at each other, and around the arena.
It came again. This time, it was accompanied by a deep grinding sound.
Someone screamed. Others pointed toward the tank.
Luciana whirled, to see what they had spotted.
The girder-built structure that held up the platforms was falling forward. No room existed between the structure and the tank wall, and it fell against the wall, bringing all that weight to bear on the wall.
The players scrambled down the ladders, yelling at each other.
Fans screamed and tripped over each other, scrambling over the chairs and along the rows. A thick river of them was crammed into the aisles, as they tried to climb up to the stairs to the exits.
Then the tank wall itself gave way. The weight against it was too much.
Brice was right. The wall did not shatter. It instead cracked at the base. An enormous thick slab of it, most of the back section, toppled forward in the same horrible slow-motion way that the platforms had.
“Out,” Brice said grabbing her hand. “Get out.” He pulled her toward the narrow door at the back of the box and opened the door. People were jammed in the hallway, not moving, screaming at each other and trying to pummel and push their way forward.
Brice didn’t shut the door. He turned, instead, dropped his cane, and wrapped his arms around Luciana. “Get down!” he shouted.
She would have dropped to the floor immediately, only he was already lowering her down behind the second row of four chairs. As she dropped she saw the broken off slab of wall fall against the wall directly in front of the box.
She screamed, ducked and closed her eyes.
Brice pushed her head against his chest, and his arm came over her head.
It muffled the sound of the front wall cracking, yet she still heard it, despite the overwhelming noise everywhere around them.
People screaming and shouting, the rending of metal, a rumbling that sounded like enormous boulders grinding together.
The floor shuddered, throwing them against the chairs, then tossing them against the back wall of the box.
Something large fell against the wall, just over their heads and Luciana cringed.
She turned her head enough to peer over Brice’s arm.
A huge girder—much larger than she had realized, now it was so close—had fallen into the box and the end was buried in the wall, which was groaning.
Then the shuddering began again. This time, it didn’t stop.
“Hold on!” Brice cried. She only knew what he had said because she could feel what he was saying through his chest. His arms tightened.
The floor tilted. She felt herself sliding and gripped Brice, smothering her scream against his chest.
Then, abruptly, they were falling.
Luciana closed her eyes, knowing that this was the end. They were two vulnerable humans with soft bodies. They would be crushed as the building fell on them.
They landed heavily and not onto something soft. Brice cried out, then immediately tightened his arms around her again, protecting her head. Luciana groaned, as her hip seemed to shoot fire through her leg and up her back.
Slowly, the horrible sounds faded. Then they stopped.
Luciana realized that she was still alive. Still breathing. And so was Brice.
A little light came from somewhere. So much dust was in the air that the light was nearly smothered. It was enough, though, for Luciana to see. She tried to lift herself and cried out as her hip flared with sharp pain.
“Stay still.” Brice’s voice was hoarse.
“I want to make sure you’re alright.” Her voice was no less strained than his.
“I think I broke my other leg.” And astonishingly, he laughed. It was a low series of chuckles that made his chest vibrate.
“You’re hysterical,” she whispered, trying to pull herself along whatever they were lying on so she could see his face.
It hurt like hell to move, and she hit her head on something over them.
The space they were in was built of crazy angles, with barely enough room for them.
If whatever was over them shifted again, there wouldn’t be enough room… .
She brushed the dust and dirt off Brice’s face. More fell on it. “Why are you laughing?” It hurt to talk. Everything hurt.
“Because we’re alive.” His gaze met hers. “We’re alive.”
Her chest tightened. Warmth grew there. “Yes,” she breathed.
The look in his eyes. Luciana had not seen it before, yet she recognized it all the same. Something had just changed. Something fundamental had shifted. She could feel it, too.
“I would kiss you, but I can’t move,” Brice said.
She stroked his cheek. “I can’t reach any farther than this, either.”
He turned his head, wincing, and pressed his lips to her fingertips.
The building had stopped moving and shrieking. Instead, they could hear the cries of others. Calls for help. Screams of pain, of fear, of helplessness.
Luciana rested her forehead against his arm, trembling.
They were alive.