Destination Europa: Chapter 10

The Game

Jul 05, 2024

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Previously, Quill learned that Jörg wasn’t quite what he expected, and also began to wonder whether Safira was secretly working for the FSS.

A blast of conversation slammed Quill as the door to the Deck 6 Rec Room slid open. He had expected there would be something of a crowd for the Vampyre Hunter tournament — any type of social event on board was guaranteed to draw an audience eager for something to break the monotony — but he hadn’t imagined there would be that many just for the first round.

He hastily dampened his aural inputs, fending off the waves of chatter that slopped and rebounded from walls and floor and ceiling, and looked around for his team. The Deck 6 Rec Room was the biggest open space in the habitable part of the Leifr, stretching round a full half of the Green Ring, inward from the mess. It was one of the few spaces on the ship where you could fully appreciate that what kept your feet attracted to the floor was the ship’s rotation and not true gravity. From where Quill stood, others in his vicinity were upright, but where the room curved out of sight, people were standing at almost 90º to him. This evening, the middle of the floor had been roped off to form the playing area, and large interfaces had been set up around the walls to show the optical feed from each of the players when the games started. In the meantime, whoever was in charge of the screens had opted to show highlights from last year’s tournament. Quill caught a glimpse of himself out of the corner of his eye, being brought down by Doc Engebretsen, and looked away, trying not to draw attention to himself as he weaved through the crowd. A lot of people had changed their aikon settings to reflect their loyalties, so instead of the usual discreet grey names, the room was full of flashing FSS red-and-blue, mixed with glowing SymbioNor blue-and-silver. Quill saw a couple of clusters of Martian orange off to one side. I wonder if that’s a good idea. Too overtly nationalistic. Too political. No-one did that last year, as far as I remember. Did they?

Demas, Bowen and Safira were huddled near the far end of the rec room, discussing strategy. Their aikons were plain grey as usual. Quill greeted them and adjusted his aural filters enough to join the conversation. I need to talk to Demas about Safira. When? I guess now isn’t really a good time.

“Are you with us, Quill?”

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Demas snapped his fingers in Quill’s ear. “Wake up, bro!”

“Sorry. Too much noise in here.”

“I was saying, stick to the plan from practice!”

“Right,” Quill nodded. “If we’re hunters, we go for—”

“Shh!” said Safira. “Keep your voice down! You don’t want to give the game away! Anyone could be listening in here.”

“Sorry.”

Bowen gave him a wry smile. He and Safira were holding hands. I guess he doesn’t know about Alex. But maybe I’m reading too much into it. Why shouldn’t she have dinner with Alex? Doesn’t mean there’s anything going on. Quill suppressed the queasy feeling in his stomach.

“Ladies and gentlemen!”

The room quietened down. Captain Strand was standing in the middle of the room, at the centre of the temporary arena. He was in his usual navy-blue FSS overalls, incongruously matched with a formal dress uniform captain’s hat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, friends, I have again been prevailed upon to draw the teams for this year’s eagerly-awaited Vampyre Hunter tournament! I know Gary the Galley and his team here are eager to defend their crown!”

Gary, the head chef, curled a bicep and laughter rippled round the room.

“Without further ado, following time-honoured tradition, I will pick the names out of the hat!”

Strand whipped his hat off his head and held it upside-down in front of him.

“Team captains, please!”

Demas pushed forward along with representatives from each of the other nine teams, and dropped their team token into the hat.

“They should just get AiLeifr to randomly assign the teams,” commented Bowen.

“Tradition,” said Safira. “You’ve no sense of drama, Bo.”

Captain Strand shook the hat and ostentatiously looked at the ceiling while drawing the first two tokens.

“First to play tonight, we have Engie’s Angels versus, speak of the devil, the Galley Slaves!”

There was a burst of cheers. Doc Engebretsen pumped her fist, and Gary the Galley kissed his hand at the crowd as he gave a dramatic bow.

“Next up will be…” Captain Strand fumbled as he pulled another two tokens from the hat. “Next up, Flight of the Navigators, versus… Avengers of Injustice!”

Alex waved at the crowd on behalf of the Navigators, but there was already a ripple running round the room at the second team name, an unfamiliar one. To Quill’s shock, Demas stepped forward and gave a curt nod.

“Wait.. what?” Quill looked at Safira and Bowen. Safira’s eyebrows had drawn together in a scowl. “Our team name! What happened?”

Demas heard the question as he rejoined them. “We changed the name.” He looked round at the three of them, eyes narrowed, daring them to challenge him.

“• you, Demas!” hissed Safira, eyes blazing. “We talked about this and we most certainly did not agree!”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” put in Quill.

“Chill,” said Demas. “And keep your voices down. We need to be working on a longer-term plan in case the letter doesn’t work out. A protest movement, if we need it. This is just laying groundwork.”

“This is foolish,” said Safira. “I told you that! We need to be careful, not blasting things for the whole ship to see.”

“I am being • careful. Nobody knows about the letter yet, and this name is ambiguous enough to be deniable. I thought about calling it Fight the SymbioNor Fatcats for Fair • Wages, but I didn’t make it that explicit, did I?”

There was a painful silence. In the middle of the room, the last teams were being drawn.

“I liked Legends of Olympus,” said Bowen. “That was a good name.”

Scattered cheers bounced around the room as one of the Galley Slaves team, playing as vampires, brought down Nurse Magnusson. Only one of the hunters was left; the first game would soon be over. Quill bounced on the balls of his feet, glancing back and forth between the wall screens and Demas, who was standing next to him. Their team had spent the first half of the game going over what they knew about the Navigators team and how they might modify their strategy. Now, Demas was focused on the screens, his mouth set stubbornly, avoiding eye contact. Safira and Bowen had gone to the mess to get drinks before the rush there would be at the end of the first game. This is my chance. I need to speak to him. But is this the best time? Not really, but…

“Quit looking at me like that, Quill. I’m not sorry, and I’m not changing the name.”

Quill froze and glanced up at Demas. “I wasn’t looking at you.”

“Yeah you were. Cut it out.”

Quill ran a hand through his hair and let out a puff of breath. This is it.

“Demas, I need to talk to you. But it’s not about that.”

Demas turned his head and glared at Quill. “What are you havering about, Aquilla?”

“Nothing to do with the game.” Quill looked around the room, trying not to look furtive. No sign of Safira and Bowen coming back. No-one too close. “It’s about Safira,” he said in a low voice.

“What about her?”

Quill glanced from left to right again. “Maybe this isn’t the best time. But uh, how well do you know her?”

Demas shrugged. “As well as I know anyone after two years on this tin can.”

“You didn’t know her before?”

“Nah. She’s terraforming, innit? Paths didn’t cross.” Demas looked him in the eye. Quill flushed and looked away. “What’s eating you, bro?”

Quill dropped his voice even lower. “Do you think she’s been acting.. strange?”

“Strange how?” Demas had dropped his voice to match.

“This is going to sound crazy.” Quill ran his hand through his hair again. I need to get a haircut. “I’ve seen her hanging around FSS quarters. Demas, the letter.. what if she’s ratting on you?”

Demas straightened up, hands on hips, and looked at the screens as if he were following the game. The cheers and whistles around them suggested it was coming to a climax. He shook his head, then turned back to Quill.

“Nah,” he said. “Nah, I don’t buy that.” There was a whisper of uncertainty in his voice. “I don’t buy that,” he repeated.

“Just be careful,” said Quill.

Demas nodded. A roar ran around the room, and Quill looked at the nearest screen to see Nurse Magnusson, now a vampire, drain Doc Engebretsen’s character. The screens switched to background as the players, one after another, came out of the game and the teams shook hands.

Safira and Bowen came through the crowd with four beakers of coffee.

“What did we miss?” asked Safira.

A desert wind howled across a sullen sky. Quill crouched beneath the lee of a dune and tried to make out the terrain ahead, but the dust and sand whipped up by the wind had reduced visibility to less than a couple of metres. He had no idea where the others were. He felt a terrible thirst. Fly. He hadn’t unlocked true flight yet — they all started the game at the same level — but he could take advantage of the low gravity to get a bat’s eye view. He spotted a fennec fox and swooped down on it, squeezing the animal around the throat until it went limp in his hands. It reminded him of the pet hamsters his nephews had. He sank his fangs into its throat and his Energy bar sparkled and grew. I hate playing vampire. 1910 days until I go home. I guess Horatio and Henry Hamster will be long dead by then. The fox’s corpse disappeared in a puff of smoke. A shout echoed from some distance away. Vampire or hunter? He flattened himself against the dune and tried to listen. That way.

The sandstorm darkened into night, then the wind dropped. A sickly moon came up behind the dunes, ghostly pale and bright. Quill’s Dark Force bar rose. He ran towards the gully he could now see in the middle distance, pausing to grab a passing rattlesnake and drain its blood like an ice-pop. The clash of metal on metal ahead. The edge of the gully. Bowen’s character grappling with one of the hunters. The hunter tripped Bowen’s vampire and got him on his back with a sword to his throat. Jump. Get him. You can save Bowen. But Quill crouched frozen on the edge while the hunter pulled out a silver cross, glowing and crackling with energy, and pressed it to Bowen’s chest. Bowen’s character collapsed, then vanished in purple sparkles. The hunter’s Light Force bar shot up a level. Demas is going to kill me for this.

A blade at his throat and a hand over his mouth. Quill kicked, but was unable to shake his assailant off.

“The big guy, northwest, go!” a voice called behind his ear, speaking to the hunter in the gully. “I’ll be with you in a sec.” Alex’s voice.

Alex flipped Quill onto his back and knelt on his chest. His character was dressed in clerical robes, a dark cassock with a white dog collar and a huge wooden cross on a string of beads around his neck.

“Nice outfit,” gasped Quill. He gave a wriggle to one side, but Alex’s priest had him tightly pinioned. Quill gave up and prepared to die. Demas is going to have my guts for garters.

“You like this kind of style, huh?” grinned Alex. He leaned a little closer, almost within range of Quill’s fangs, almost taunting him. “I guess you’re pissed we won the toss.”

“You could say that.” Keep him talking, someone might rescue me.

Alex took hold of his cross with one hand and brought it towards Quill’s chest. Quill’s Life bar began to blink. “I’m actually surprised someone like you likes this game,” Alex went on.

“Got to take one for the team.” What? What exactly does he mean, someone like me?

The cross came a little closer, and a bluish flame curled around it. Quill’s Life bar began to reduce slowly.

“And a very interesting change of name,” said Alex. He was almost whispering now. “You guys should be careful.”

He pressed the cross into Quill’s chest, and Quill saw his Life bar drain to zero before everything went black.

The hubbub of the Rec Room faded as the door slipped shut behind him. The next game was already underway. Quill slid down the ladder to the Blue Ring and pushed through the mess. His cheeks were burning, and he briefly considered switching into a sim so that he could avoid interacting with anyone on the way back to his cabin. Demas’ anger stormed and echoed in his ears. The others had been more relaxed about it, and Quill thought Safira had actually seemed pleased with the outcome, though she’d tried to hide it. Pleased for Alex? And what did Alex mean, about me playing? I’ve never really talked with him about my faith. Did Safira tell him? Or was he talking about something completely different?

A ping. Tark. Heard about your game. Rough luck, Dr. O.

The Blue Ring corridor was quiet. Quill decided to walk forward to Deck 1 and back, and settled into a quick rhythm, feet soft on the dark blue floor. The ceiling lights stretched into the distance like pearls on a necklace. Quill knew there were twenty-four between him and the end of the corridor. Twenty-three. Twenty-two. Three lights ahead, there was Olga Samson, the Queen Bee, walking and knitting with her yarn under her arm. They greeted each other with silent nods as they passed. Nineteen. Nineteen hundred and ten days left, and then I’m done. Take me home, country roads. Eighteen. Lord, from the depths. Avengers of Injustice… What is Demas playing at?

A street in Aberdeen. Four in the afternoon, winter dark. Priska walking by his side, her hand warm in his. An early escape from the SymbioNor Research All-Hands Conference. They walked through storm-soaked streets towards the sea. Her first year working for SymbioNor, her second year in Tromsø.

“But how do you reconcile it?” she asked, gesturing with her free hand. It was a good question. Quill had grappled with it more than once since joining the Alliance. “How do you square working for this behemoth, this Babylon, with God’s desire for justice? With care for the poor? The oppressed?”

They were both thinking about the plenary session they’d just left, and the throwaway comment the speaker had made about the effects of ytterbium mining. The only lives lost have been disposable, he’d said, and most of the audience had laughed.

They reached the beach, the North Sea pounding cold on the dark shore, the massive lights of the harbour dazzling to the south.

“I struggle with it too,” said Quill. “I guess we just have to put it in God’s hands. Like, trust that he’ll use us as lights in the darkness.” He looked at her face, pale like a lily, and leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away.

“But how are we lights? We should do something, Quill. Not just sit on our bums pretending not to hear things like that.”

“What can we do?”

“I don’t know, but something. Like, say something, instead of letting a comment like that pass. Like maybe campaign for the miners. Raise awareness.”

“I wish we could. But you know, the Alliance doesn’t allow political stuff.”

“Then maybe we should do something about the Alliance’s conscience.” Her eyes were full and furious, searching him. “I’m going to talk to Rob when we get back.”

“OK.. Sure.. But maybe let’s take a breath first..”

She pulled her hand out of his and took a step away. “What the hell is the matter with you, Quill? Are you blind?”

She pulled her hood up and walked away from him along the night-grey strand.

Quill reached the end of the corridor and turned around. I was blind. And I lost you.

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