18

Ultrabowl XI

NEUTRON NATION WAS out in full force, on their feet, swearing, stomping, and screaming at a deafening pitch. Strike could barely hear himself think, much less make out what his players were saying through his headset. With helmet comms unreliable due to the earsplitting noise, his Miners would have to rely on hand signals and reading each other’s lips during huddles.

Every cell in his body screamed at Strike to leap out on the field and demand his number 8 Ultrabot suit back. It was pure agony to no longer be one of the ten machines of war battling it out in the arena. But there was no doubt that he had made the right decision. Rock had even admitted he had suspected Strike’s secret all along, having compiled a list titled “Evidence That Strike Might Be Outgrowing His Ultrabot Suit.”

There was nothing Strike could do now except sit back and watch, hoping that he had done everything he possibly could to prepare his team for this do-or-die game. Strike prayed that the team’s intense week of practice with the new lineup would pay off, and that Fusion’s drills had set in for good. Nitro had been carrying an Ultraball cradled away in her arm every moment she was suited up, the other Miners trying to knock it out at any opportunity. After hundreds of hours of learning and drilling to protect the ball, today would be her ultimate test.

As the pregame players’ meeting took place on the field, Strike looked nervously to the domed ceiling of the massive cavern, where all eight teams’ logos had been etched for today’s big game, and then to the luxury boxes high in the stands, where Zuna was sure to be sitting. He had already used a deadly weapon from a similar spot last year. If it looked like his Neutrons might lose, what would Zuna do this time to stop the Miners? Strike forced his gaze back to the field, but he couldn’t shake the knowledge that Zuna would go to any length to win the massive bets he had placed upon his Neutrons.

Strike jolted back to the game when a chorus of boos erupted through the crowd. The small pocket of Miners fans dotted around the stands were chanting Nitro’s name as the girl in the blue number 8 Ultrabot suit caught the opening kickoff.

“Torch!” she screamed into the helmet comm.

What with the stadium noise, it took a moment for Strike to figure out what Nitro had said. Then he grinned. Maybe Nitro had finally forgiven Torch. As if she didn’t have enough motivation to win this game, doing it for her brother was going to fire her up even more.

Nitro juked a fast-approaching Neutron hard, making him fall over. She grabbed another defender’s arm and threw him toward one of Saladin Stadium’s all-new magnetic tornado zones. The Neutron bounced off the turf and then drove his boots into the ground, struggling in a desperate attempt to escape the zone’s pull. But it yanked him backward off his feet and sucked him into its center. Accelerating quickly, the Neutron slammed into the turf at the center of the tornado zone, locked out of the rest of the play by an invisible force field.

In the meantime, Nitro had taken off running, the steel Ultraball safely tucked under her arm. She hurdled over another Neutron who had punched through the wedge of Miners blocking for her. She cut toward another tornado zone in the middle of the field. A Neutron defender had the angle on her and came in hot, flinging himself at her. But at the last second, Nitro cut back and leapt high into the air, throwing herself forward into a spin, just clearing the edge of the tornado zone. The incoming defender still managed to crack a fist into her, but she grabbed his glove and flung him toward the tornado zone. His eyes widened as he strained against the pull, his limbs wildly flailing as he got sucked into the electromagnetic black hole.

One last Neutron threw himself at Nitro, but she lowered her shoulder, curling both arms around the Ultraball. The Neutron slammed into her like a cannonball, both of them rolling toward the end zone. Although her arms were busy protecting the Ultraball, she bull-rushed her way across the goal line with the defender hanging all over her.

She thundered out a victorious bellow before rearing her arm back and hurling the Ultraball skyward. The missile of a throw sliced through the air and cracked into the exact center of the Neutrons’ logo etched into the high ceiling, sending down a mist of gray moon dust. “No such thing as a curse!” she yelled, jabbing a finger toward the roof. “This one’s for Torch!”

The rest of the Miners came in, chest-bumping and turbo butt-slapping Nitro. “Torch!” they screamed back.

The boos and swearing came raining down out of the Neutron Nation fans, Nitro’s throw riling them up. But the contingent of Miners fans around Strike went wild, eating up her show of bravado. A radiant glow filled Strike’s chest. After just twenty seconds, the Miners were up 7–0, and Nitro was on fire. Strike pumped a fist, saying a silent word of thanks to Fusion. The former quarterback’s fumble drills had cured Nitro of her one glaring problem spot, turning her into a true superstar who would lead them to a title.

Then sharp pangs of guilt stabbed at Strike, his stomach churning. Nightmare images filled his head, of Fusion rotting away in jail, maybe even being tortured. There was nothing Strike could do about it right now. But winning this game would mean that Zuna would lose his fortune, and thus his power. Maybe then Strike could figure out a way to free Fusion.

There was no doubt that the Neutrons were talented, well deserving of the first seed in the playoffs. During the first half, White Lightning scored two rushing touchdowns and threw for two more. He danced around the edges of the tornado zones, elbowing Miners into them, once even knocking both Nugget and Pickaxe into a tornado zone one after the other. Defensively, he almost single-handedly broke up two touchdown passes, when he read the Miners’ plays perfectly. If it hadn’t been for Nitro’s incredible accuracy, hitting TNT on full-field passes that locked right into the tips of his gloves, White Lightning would have had pick-sevens both times.

But White Lightning also took a few too many chances, slinging one pass to what looked like a wide-open Meltdown streaking toward the end zone, only to have TNT outleap Meltdown and return it for a touchdown. White Lightning also fumbled once when Nitro tackled him, throwing both of them into a tornado zone, her fist slamming into his arm as they whipped into the eye of the hurricane. The costly turnover allowed the Miners to pull ahead to a 49–35 lead.

With a minute to go in the first half, the Neutrons had the ball at the Miners’ forty-meter line, fourth down and a long way to go. If the Miners could stop the Neutrons on this play, they could simply run out the clock and go into halftime with a fourteen-point lead. Or the Miners could then take a shot for another touchdown. Strike rubbed his hands together, knowing exactly what he’d do if the Miners got the ball back: he’d stick the dagger into the heart of Neutron Nation, with a highball bounce off a slingshot V. The entire game, Nitro had thrown with uncanny precision. Even with TNT ricocheting crazily off the high ceiling, she’d sling a perfect full-field pass to him, the Ultraball lasering right into his outstretched gloves. A twenty-one-point lead at halftime would be devastating.

As the Miners huddled up, Strike squinted. He threw on his headset, yelling, “Rock, concentrate on the play!” Just like earlier in the season, Rock wasn’t paying attention to the huddle. He was staring at the bottom of the scoreboard, trying to figure out an encoded message that started with three dots, then three dashes, then three dots. Strike jumped up and down, waving his hands in the air, trying to catch Rock’s attention, but his rocketback 2’s gaze was laser-locked onto the scoreboard.

Luckily, TNT noticed what was going on as they broke the huddle. He smacked Rock’s helmet, pointing to where he was supposed to go. Rock flinched, seeming to come out of a trance. He looked around as if he was surprised to see himself on the field. TNT yanked at Rock to get him into the right position.

But the Neutrons took full advantage of the Miners’ confusion. White Lightning quick-hiked the ball before TNT and Rock could get into place. He took off scrambling to his left, two blockers clearing the way for him. Tucking in the ball, he headed toward the edge of a tornado zone.

Hot in pursuit, Nitro vaulted over Nugget’s back, leaping clear over a surprised Neutron blocker. The other one wasn’t as easily fooled, though, timing his jump to smash a shoulder into Nitro, slamming her backward.

White Lightning was still heading toward the tornado zone, but he had no blockers now. Pickaxe raced forward, gaining speed as he lowered his shoulder to deliver a crushing blow.

Strike cupped his hands to his mouth, screaming to Pickaxe that it was a fake. They had prepared for all the Neutrons’ trick plays, and this one was easily countered—as long as the defender didn’t over-pursue in hopes of making a killing tackle. But Pickaxe fell for it, leaving his feet in an attempt to spear White Lightning in the middle of his chest plate.

White Lightning slid to the ground, ducking under Pickaxe’s outstretched arms before catching one of Pickaxe’s gloves to heave him straight into the tornado zone. Pickaxe roared as the electromagnetic forces sucked him in and slammed him to the ground. A split second later, White Lightning popped up and reversed course, scurrying along the edge of the zone. He cocked back the Ultraball as he ran, looking for Meltdown, who was streaking down the other sideline.

The Miners had one chance to break up this play. If Rock could rush at White Lightning fast enough and time his jump just right, he could force White Lightning into a tough pass. Rock might even bat down the Ultraball if he was lucky.

But Rock still seemed disoriented. He jumped at White Lightning well after the Neutrons’ quarterback released the ball. Rock’s outstretched arms weren’t anywhere close enough to affect the throw.

Strike groaned, dropping his head into his hands. White Lightning’s pass wasn’t perfect, but Meltdown was a great rocketback. Strike had seen Meltdown make much harder catches than this. The entire stadium seemed to belong to Neutron Nation, a tremendous roar going up in anticipation of the big touchdown catch.

Suddenly, a collective gasp went up through the stands. Nitro had slung TNT high and hard, the Miners’ rocketback 1 soaring in toward Meltdown. Just as Meltdown made an amazing one-handed grab, TNT cracked in with a wild barrage of punches and kicks.

A swarm of other players charged toward the spot where Meltdown and TNT were coming down, near the back right corner of the end zone. Meltdown was still trying to secure his grip on the ball when TNT landed a huge roundhouse punch, knocking it loose.

All eight other players jumped for it at the same time, a tangle of blue and red limbs mixed up, flailing, kicking, swatting at each other as they jockeyed for position. Time after time, the ball snapped into someone’s glove electromagnet, only to be jarred loose by a punch or a swat. As the Ultraball fell and bounced off the turf, everyone dove for it, forming a writhing pileup near the goal line.

Three armored refs came running in, whistles blowing. One by one, they pulled players off the scrum, a Miner first, then a Neutron, then back and forth. Groans went up through the stands when the refs pulled away the last player, revealing that Rock had the ball. A ref signaled that the Miners had recovered, and a chorus of boos erupted through the stands.

As Rock got to his feet, Ion Storm, the Neutron’s crackback 2, got right in his face. He flipped his visor to clear and shouted something at Rock that froze him in place for several seconds. A whistle blew to signify the end of the first half, but Rock still didn’t move.

Strike jumped to his feet in alarm. Even with the Ultrabot suit on, Rock’s body language was crystal clear. Whatever Ion Storm had said to him had badly shaken him. Strike tried to yell to Rock over the helmet comm, to tell him to not let the Neutrons get in his head, but he wasn’t sure if Rock could hear him over the background roar of the crowd.

Then Rock popped to his feet and sprinted in a frenzy toward the locker rooms, well ahead of the other Miners. His helmet was in the process of rotating back over his head when Strike caught sight of his panicked face.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Strike tore down the steps toward the tunnel entrance leading into their locker room. He leaned over the railing, screaming at Rock as he passed by. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

Rock barely paused as he sprinted by. “Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot,” he shouted.

“You’re not making sense. What does that—”

“Boom’s life is in danger!”