Game Over

Chapter 17





I’D SEEN A lot of aliens in my day, but until that moment I’d never seen one wearing Adidas.

The boy who’d just entered the apartment of Number 7 and Number 8 looked to be about my age, with jet-black hair and piercing dark eyes, and wearing a tattered wool sweater and blue jeans. There was something deeply sad about him, like somebody close to him had died and he didn’t want to talk about it. He looked like a decent kid. Which was bizarre considering this was apparently Number 7 and Number 8’s son.

“Kildare, my boy,” said Number 7, turning away from his computer screen, which right then was filled with engineering schematics of some antennas located on the second-tallest structure in Tokyo, the famed Tokyo Tower. “You’ll never guess who was just here.”

“The Supernanny,” replied Kildare, “come to give you two some parenting pointers.”

“What is he talking about, Colin?” asked Number 8.

“As usual, Ellie,” said Number 7, “I have no idea.” He turned back to his son with a stern expression. “We were just called on by none other than The Prayer.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Kildare’s face, quickly masked by a shrug.

“Do you even know who that is?” Number 8 prodded, disgust creeping into her tone.

The boy had looked ready to fire a sarcastic retort but thought better of it. Instead, he turned and headed toward the kitchen.

“I thought not. He’s Number 1, my dear, ignorant child. On The List.” No response from Kiladare. “And there’s something else you should know,” continued his mother.

Kildare paused as he reached the kitchen door.

“There’s a Pleionid here in Tokyo.”

The boy spun around, a look approaching panic on his face.

“What!? They’re extinct!”

“All but one. One that came here to interfere with our plans.”

“But aren’t they pacifists?”

“That may be, but we think it’s intending to pass on information that our nonpacifist enemies might use,” explained his mother.

“All of that is immaterial,” Number 7 jumped in. “The fact is that the hunt for the last Pleionid will be the stuff of legend, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for any hunter.”

“In fact,” said Number 8, “your father and I have been talking, and, since your sixteenth colony cycle is approaching, we think you should be hunt leader on this one.”

“What a glorious first kill it could be for you!” said Number 7. “Much like my own, when I caught and killed the last Reticulated Shandlerite on Guldbrekker 11.”

It looked to me like all the blood had drained from Kildare’s face. “Sure, Dad. Say, I just remembered…” He hesitated, turning back to the private elevator. “I left some equipment at school. I have to go.”

“Kildare! We’ve already talked about your forgetting things all of the time. We are not a family—much less a species—that forgets things.”

“But I have to go get it or I won’t be able to finish my science project.”

“And then what?” asked his father. “I know we asked you to blend in and learn their ways; but this interest of yours in school—it’s unseemly, Kildare.”

“I can’t blend in if I fail out.”

“Well,” said Number 8, looking quite human in her motherly disapproval, “make sure you’re back in time for dinner. The hunt starts in two days, and you’ll need extra rest so you’ll be ready.”

“Your first hunt! Ah, that’ll get you past this school bug!” said Number 7, rubbing his hands together and leaning back in his computer chair.

Kildare grimaced and disappeared into the elevator.

“This will be just the thing to get him back on track,” declared Number 7. “There’s no way he’ll be able to deny his heritage after tasting the thrill of the hunt.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Number 8. “Should we put up some fail-safes so he doesn’t get hurt?”

“No, let him prove himself. If he doesn’t rise to the challenge…”

“Of course, you’re right, dear,” said Number 8, coming up behind her husband and rubbing his shoulders. “We can always make another.”

As Number 7 stood and began returning her affections, I quickly turned off my “hearing” and looked away from their window. Not only am I really not into watching aliens smooch, but I didn’t have much time to figure out where their son was going. He was definitely up to something.

Fortunately, one thing faster than high-speed elevators is instantaneous teleportation. Of course, you have to know exactly where it is you’re teleporting to or you can find yourself lodged in a solid object, with some pretty unpleasant results. But by now, I’d made a thorough study of the GC building’s layout and knew exactly where the penthouse elevator stopped. In the blink of an eye, I disguised myself as a security guard and teleported myself to the lobby.

Only problem was, when the elevator doors opened up, Kildare wasn’t there.