Game Over

Chapter 16





I WANTED TO run and hide. I wanted to teleport myself to another continent or, heck, another planet. But this was Number 1. I couldn’t afford to be scared. I couldn’t afford to get distracted. And, most of all, I couldn’t afford to miss this chance to find out what he was doing here.

And that was a problem, because he was a street-width away from me behind a wall of insulated glass. Unless I wanted to get closer and run the risk of being seen, it was going to be hard to find out what they were saying.

Hard, but not impossible… especially for a kid who’d recently downloaded the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s Acoustical Engineering PhD curriculum into his cerebellum. I zoomed in my eyes on the glass of the floor-to-ceiling penthouse windows to the point at which I could see the vibrations caused by my enemies’ words. And from there, it was a simple matter of translating the vibrations back into sounds and…

“That poor, poor kitty cat. What is wrong with you two?!” asked Number 1, swiveling his head back and forth in his creepy rendition of a disapproving head shake. His voice carried a note of amusement, but Number 7 and Number 8’s obvious nervousness made it clear he wasn’t totally joking.

“I have told you before,” he said, his eyes flashing (only that’s not really the right word because it wasn’t light coming out of them—it was darkness). “And I’ll tell you again—there is only one creature I need you to hunt to extinction, and that’s Graff and Atrelda’s unfortunate leave-behind. Little whatever-his-name-is.”

“He calls himself Daniel,” replied Number 8, timidly.

“What day of the week is it?” said Number 1, rising up on his hind legs and glowering at her.

“Tuesday.”

“Then I want you to call him Thursday Night Soup.”

“But what if he time-travels back to Monday?” asked Number 7.

“I’ve seen to it that he can’t do any more of his time-travel tricks,” Number 1 said, annoyed. “Now do your job and hunt him down.”

“Yes, sensei,” said Number 7 and Number 8 in unison, bowing and backing away from him.

“And stop acting like humans!” screamed Number 1. “You two are taking this playacting too far. Between your tabloid antics and the way your so-called son’s been behaving lately, you’ll probably end up going native on me.”

“Of course, master,” said Number 7 and Number 8, like they shared voice. It was a little creepy how they did that, actually. Maybe it was a talent that came with being married a really long time…

“Listen to me!” Number 1 barked. “I cannot afford any more screw-ups. I’m having to spend enough time recruiting and training replacements for Numbers 6, 5, and 3 without worrying about two more openings to fill.”

“Don’t worry, master. We’re on schedule.”

“I need you to be more than on schedule. You need to be ahead of schedule,” said Number 1, straightening up to his full height and glaring down at the human-looking couple. “We’ve had an unfortunate setback,” he said. “A Pleionid has landed here on Earth.”

“A Pleionid?” asked Number 7.

I was familiar with the name. Pleionids were a species of legendary genius and unique telepathic abilities. Unfortunately, they were also complete pacifists and had offered next to no resistance when Outer One poachers had invaded their world. Theirs was one of those legendary extinctions, much like the dodo bird or the passenger pigeon here on Earth.

“But they’re extinct!!” blurted Number 8.

The impatient look Number 1 gave her was enough to remove any doubt. “I don’t care whether you kill it, or him, first—but by no means may you let them make contact with each other… unless it’s as ingredients in one of your meals. Do you understand me?”

Number 7 and Number 8’s ravenous, drooling expressions made it clear that there was no mission they’d have more willingly undertaken. For these two hunters of endangered species to receive a shot at one the most legendary of all interstellar creatures—

Number 1 backed in to the open elevator, his insect eyes now glowing red.

“Don’t even think of failing me.”

“Oh, no, master. We won’t!” they yelled as the polished stainless steel doors slid closed.

I gripped the railing of the window-cleaning gondola with both hands. My head was spinning. Number 1 here in Tokyo? The monster that had killed my parents and probably orchestrated the near genocide of my race?

Had I really just seen him with my own eyes? Had I really just overheard his plans?

Or was it all a trick? Had Number 7 and Number 8 known I’d be watching? Was it just a red herring to throw me off? Was I really supposed to believe there was a living Pleionid somewhere in this city? And what was that part about how Number 1 had seen to it that I could no longer time-travel? I’d never doubted myself this much before. I didn’t know what to believe…

But I didn’t have any more time to ponder it right then. The elevator doors opened again and disgorged a figure far less intimidating yet in some ways more disturbing than Number 1.