The Derivative Saga #1: Neocopy

Chapter 5: Ziv-Ball Bonanza

In the capsule ride down to the field, Aiden would have liked to talk strategy before the match started, but his teammates had suddenly developed the attention spans of a fly, fixated on the near-miss crossfire they had just witnessed.

"I wanna shoot something like that on the range at home," said Juster, his eyes shining, no doubt replaying spectacular impact the missile had made. "I'll ask Dad if he can buy one from the dealer he gets his arms shipments from."

"Hey, no fair," complained Jukon. "I was gonna ask him first."

"I called it first. Besides, I bet we'll get all the ammo we need, not just one shot."

"But I want my own!"

"You guys seeing this footage?" said Mateo. His eyes had that faraway look that meant he was viewing something on the net via his cyberware. "The mechas are moving in — whoa, looks like they have those new personnel-level energy shields everyone's been talking about. The taggers are using plasma guns but nothing's getting through. Whoof — those fuckers are done."

Denver frowned, and his own eyes glazed over briefly as he checked the net for himself. "Where are you seeing all this? They're not letting any of the news stations past the perimeter."

"Surf the indy uploads, goon. People are recording from the office buildings."

"Are we getting ready for ziv-ball or what?" interrupted Aiden. "Just a minute ago, you goons were getting psyched up about the semifinals. I feel like I'm getting to ready to play with five-year-olds." To his right, he noticed the new girl eyeing them all disdainfully. "What? You got something to say?"

The girl shrugged. "Y'all are the ones getting googly-eyed over some street shootout. I'm only here to have fun."

Denver's faze refocused. "No, you're right, Aiden. We should sharpen up." He gestured towards the new girl. "By the way, guys this is Natalie — Natalie, the guys."

Natalie gave a little wave, and Mateo nodded back.

"Hi Natalie," said Jukon.

"Hope you don't die," said Juster.

The capsule tube slowed as it reached the final moments of its descent, and the glass screen encircling them retracted into its lid. The group stepped out onto the landing strip behind the border line of the arena.

Out before them rose the arena: a giant, plexiglass-filled dome with struts criss-crossing its surface. Its middle was ringed by spectator seats, and funneled down below that lay the actual field, which was as big as a football stadium and constructed of a translucent metal revealing the muddy outlines of cars and rotorcycles flitting back and forth underneath. Despite playing here many times, Aiden couldn't help feeling like an ant at the bottom of one of those ancient 20th-century light bulbs.

The arena lights were on, dimming the natural sunlight slanting in, but Aiden could tell it was sunnier than usual outside. A strong wind was blowing in from the coast, and the ever-present smog that hung around the skyscrapers of Neocopy had cleared to reveal an uncharacteristically blue sky, if tinted somewhat gray by residual pollutants.

Natalie pointed. "Who's that?"

Aiden followed her gaze. A member of the Huang's security detail, a stoic man named Burt, was watching from high above in the stands. Aiden waved to him. Burt nodded but did not wave back.

"Someone from my family's security detail," he said.

"If he's your bodyguard, why wasn't he with you in the waiting room?"