5

The Offer

STRIKE FOLLOWED BEHIND the bodyguard in red, walking up a long set of stairs leading to the North Pole Stadium skyboxes. The other Miners had pleaded for him to not go, but there was no way he could miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to extend his playing career. Making some sort of deal with Zuna was making a deal with the devil. This was the man who had nearly taken over Taiko Colony last year, with every intention of cratering it. But Strike would do anything to win an Ultrabowl title for his teammates.

They stopped at a pitch-black door recessed into the wall. The bodyguard pressed a button on a control panel, and the door clicked open. “Mr. Zuna will see you now,” he said. “I’ll escort you back down after your meeting.”

Strike edged toward the door. His breath caught. He’d heard about places like this back on Earth, throne rooms adorned in gold and silver, crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, catching the light and throwing rainbow patterns across the room.

“Hello, Strike,” Zuna said. He stood up from behind a wood desk, its surface polished to an oily finish, representations of wild animals carved into the legs. “What do you think?” He waved a hand across his surroundings. “It’s not my best suite, but it’s hard to beat the view.”

Strike stepped forward toward the panoramic window separating them from the stands. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of North Pole Stadium. He could see everything from here. There were even displays mounted near the ceiling that projected zoomed-in close-ups.

“Nothing but the best for the North Pole Neutrons,” Zuna said. “This is all due to our Ultrabowl wins. Every one of the Neutrons is set for life.” He shook his head. “No one remembers the losers.”

“Like your Neutrons?” Strike said. “Remind me, who just won this game?”

“Ultraball is a war,” Zuna said. “This is only one battle. We’ll end this season with a title. Just like last year.”

Heat rose through Strike’s head as something clicked into place. This might have been the exact spot where Zuna had aimed his Meltdown Gun at Boom last year and pulled the trigger. And now Zuna was taunting him about it?

He spun on his heels and stormed toward the door, but Zuna called out. “Sit, Strike. Your Ultrabot suit is getting tight. You panic when you think about outgrowing it, about your Ultraball career being over. And for good reason. It won’t be long before the suit won’t seal up around you anymore. Maybe you have months. But it might only be weeks.”

Strike started to deny it all, but it was useless. “How did you know?” he asked.

“Because it’s what happened to Chain Reaction,” Zuna said.

Strike took a step back, trying to process the information. Slowly, the pieces were starting to come together. “So that’s why you replaced him,” he said. “Chain Reaction outgrew his suit over the off-season.”

“Always one step behind,” Zuna said. “Chain Reaction started to outgrow his suit two years ago. Think, Strike. Why would I ask you here?”

Strike’s head felt like it was overheating, shorting out. Why had Zuna asked him here? It had to do with the Ultrabot suit tightening around Strike, just as it had around Chain Reaction—

Strike jolted, the realization smashing into him like a blitzing crackback. He hardly dared to ask the question. “You have a way to enlarge a suit?” That was impossible, given how technologically advanced the Ultrabot suits were. They were so complicated that no one on the moon fully understood how they worked. But Strike held his breath. Maybe Zuna, with all his money, had found a way to make the impossible happen.

“Lucky for Chain Reaction, he was a North Pole Neutron,” Zuna said. “Neutron Nation is unstoppable. North Pole Colony’s technology is unparalleled.”

Without thinking, Strike blurted out, “What do you want in return for enlarging my suit?”

Zuna smiled. “I’m glad we understand each other. I give you something, you give me something. I’m not even asking for much.” He raised a shoulder in a casual shrug. “All I want is Boom’s location.”

Caught off guard by the mention of his former star rocketback, Strike struggled to remain stoic. He shrugged back. “She’s dead.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” Zuna said. “You didn’t fool me one bit with all that talk last year about her dying somewhere on the Dark Side, back among her filthy people. Of course that’s what you’d do, telling the world of her death so that I wouldn’t come after her. No, she’s still alive.” He pointed to a plush padded chair. “Sit.”

“No thanks.” Strike stood rigidly, trying not to give anything away. Wraith’s words echoed through his head: Boom needs you. She’s safely hidden away, gathering an army.

“Boom is working behind the scenes with Wraith,” Zuna said. “They’re the ones who stole nuclear weapon components from North Pole Colony. I’m sure of it. Eliminating Boom is a matter of national security. It’s your duty to turn her in.”

Strike remained silent, his fingers fidgeting. That’s kind of what Governor Katana said, he thought.

“You might not know exactly where she is,” Zuna said. “But you do know how to get in contact with her. Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering how guilty you’d feel, trading Boom’s life so that you can play another Ultraball season or two. But that’s not the right way to think about it. Choosing the right course of action would save lives. You’d be brave. Heroic. Helping to keep the moon safe from anarchists—anarchists who are looking to build nuclear weapons. Being able to extend your Ultraball career? That’s simply a bonus.”

“She didn’t steal those nuclear components. She’s dead.”

Zuna leaned forward, locking eyes with Strike. He pressed his palms into the desk as if he was preparing to crush it. “It’s your patriotic duty to turn her in. The Dark Siders are the biggest threat humanity has ever faced. Even more dangerous than the terrorists who caused Earthfall.”

“Terrorists?” Strike blinked in confusion. “You mean the Earthfall Eight?”

“What do they teach you these days?” Zuna asked, shaking his head. “The Earthfall Eight may have been the ones to push the nuclear launch buttons. But Earthfall would never have happened if the radical insurgents behind the scenes had been stopped.” He raised his right hand with a firm solemnity. “I’m offering you the chance to be a hero for the United Moon Colonies, as well as to extend your Ultraball career. It’s a no-brainer. Turn in the terrorists.”

Although Zuna seemed to honestly believe what he was saying, this business about the Dark Siders being terrorists was ridiculous. All they wanted was to be left alone. But one thing was true: the man wearing the Governor’s Star of North Pole Colony was offering Strike a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This wasn’t just about Strike extending his Ultraball career. The futures of all his teammates depended on him leading the Miners to an Ultrabowl title. He thought about the phone Boom had put in Rock’s pocket, with instructions to only use it in a dire emergency.

Was it time to make the call?

But then, Strike thought about what Rock would say to all of this. So many things didn’t make sense. Why would Zuna help Strike, if that meant strengthening the Neutrons’ biggest rival? Something wasn’t right.

Strike shook his head.

“You disappoint me, Strike,” Zuna said. He stood up, motioning toward the door. “I expected more out of you. Get out.”

“With pleasure,” Strike said. He stormed out, swearing at himself under his breath. He couldn’t believe he’d even agreed to listen to the most evil man on the moon.

As Strike reached the door, Zuna called out, “Remember, Strike. There is nothing more important than national security. Boom is an enemy of the state. Aiding and abetting an enemy of the state is an act of treason.” When Strike turned to look back, Zuna’s fiery gaze burned holes into him. “The penalty for treason is death.”

The bodyguard yanked Strike out the door and manhandled him toward the stairs.