CARNIVAL (The Spark Form Chronicles Book 2) (15 page)

              She nods and turns her head, staring blankly at the wall across from us.

              "You need to do what's best for you and Fahrn, I get that. But
is
this what's best, or is it just your body reacting to the shock? I'm guessing that you won't actually want to tackle this with Fahrn until you're sure that her Surge has died down, right? That way you know that she'll have a far better chance of dealing with it appropriately. Knowing that gives you some time. Try to think things through. Consider what's more important right now. Does telling her the truth risk ruining the progress that she's made? How will you deal with that? Will she recover from that or will it make things worse in the long run? How important
is
the truth right now?"

              I stand up and Maria turns her head to face me. Judging by her face, I may yet win this round.

              "Don't make a rash decision that you live to regret Maria. Think it through. If after that you honestly believe that telling Fahrn is the
best
thing to do, then come to me and I will personally explain everything to her, you have my word on that." That was close, I almost used the word 'right' instead of 'best'. Good save Lana.

              I walk calmly past her and signal Hong Chan to follow as I unlock the door, intentionally making sure the clunk of the lock sliding open is audible. "Let me know, OK?"

              Maria looks over her shoulder to me and gives a slight nod, completely ignoring Hong Chan. I nod back, and we leave her to her thoughts.

             
Tap. Tap-Tap.
Drum fingers. Sigh.
Tap.

              It took me a while to pick up on the pattern, but I'm pretty sure that Carnival's checking her inbox every minute now. Or around that. Even with my back to her while I work on my sandwich-based-masterpiece-of-non-animal-goodness, I can hear it clearly enough, mostly because the longer she waits, the harder she seems to be hitting the screen.

              Will she break it or will something in her Wick prevent her from doing that much damage I wonder? Either way, she's been doing it since Meera was ... whatever happened to her. Is she a
her
though? I mean, if I hadn't touched her, I would never have known that she
wasn't
a scared first timer. Sure, she was awkward, but it was an authentic awkwardness. Lana views her as a tool though, like Finn.

              No actually, that's not right. She has an affection for Finn, I could tell. She created him, he views himself as artificial, but the way she interacts with him isn't the same as when she spoke about Meera. She was near enough dismissive with Meera.

             
Tap. Tap-Tap.
Drum fingers. Sigh.
Tap.

             
But I didn't see Lana and Meera interact directly. Maybe she behaves differently when she's in the same room as her? If she does, then that may be a problem. Carnival's anxious because she knows that Lana created Meera, and seeing her collapse opens the possibility that Lana orchestrated it. If she did, then that could be an indication that she'll back out on the deal. I'm pretty certain that's what's eating her anyway. Why else would she be checking for messages so often?

              Paranoia isn't one of her usual traits, or not one that she shows me anyway, but I can understand it well enough. If Lana did set this up as a way to finish up Meera's work, then it could be that she's completely detached from most SSFs. All of them if I've misread her and Finn. Which would mean that she may just spring something on us instead of going through with whatever she agreed with Carnival this morning.

              But then, that theory hinges on two things. The first being that Meera was shut down and the second being that it was done with malicious intent. Or a lack of emotion. It could be a built in failsafe that just activated due to ... I dunno ... a problem with the Spinal Implant Cables. It could be part of the overall plan, modified as a result of Carnival and Lana's chat. Or it could have been part of the plan from the get-go.

              Assuming that it does hit both those things, that's still not necessarily a reason to panic.

             
Tap. Tap-Tap.
Drum fingers. Sigh.
Tap.

             
Even if Lana is completely detached from Meera, she would need to have the same lack of feeling for Carnival to place her in a similar situation. She at least seemed open to the possibility of Carnival being alive when I was with her last night. Providing she doesn't think that I put her up to the late night visit, having Carnival drop by like she did may even push her more towards believing us too. Plus, if she didn't think there was any chance of Carnival being what she's looking for, she wouldn't have agreed to a deal in the first place.

              Or would she? She was pretty freaked out while I was there to play master of ceremonies. With Carnival busting in on her own, she may have been receptive because she thought that she needed to save herself.

              No, Carnival would have picked up on that. She can tell when someone's lying. Most of the time. It's harder when she's panicked though. Which I guess she probably was last night.

             
Tap. Tap-Tap.
Drum fingers. Sigh.
Tap.

              So what do we need to know? Let's make a list.

              How does Lana view Meera?

              How does this compare to how she views Finn?             

              What has happened to Meera exactly?

              Why did it happen?

              How long ago was it planned?

              How does Lana view Carnival?

              Was she sincere in her agreement to cutting a deal?

              Is she likely to stick to the deal?

              That's a lot of questions. None of them have simple answers either. Plus, we'd be basing any answers on guesswork right now. Which is why, as much as I'd like to put her mind at rest, I can't discuss it with Carnival. It's all gotten me a little paranoid too.

             
Tap. Tap-Tap.
Drum fingers. Grunt loudly.

              No, she'd know how I'm feeling. Which wouldn't help either of us. Stupid paranoia.

             
Knock on the table.
Another grunt

              And so we play the waiting game. Which is both dull and conducive to the growth of the aforementioned and potentially unfounded worries. Is it dull though? There is the anticipation which is kinda cool and excited-jittery-making-me. Usually anyway. I'm not sure excited would be the right word this time.

              "Ow." My response is slightly belated because, while thrown with enough force to get my attention, a mystery loo roll was never going to be hard enough to do any major damage. Turning, I can see that Carnival is pointing at her tablet and scowling at me. Oh yeah, she grunted. I was so wrapped up in trying to get my head back on track that I missed the change in routine. Whoops.

              I pick up my sandwich, the towering mass of veggie goodness that it is, and walk over to sit beside my fuzzy companion. The first thing I notice is that Lana has chosen the username 'Cruz_Control'. I'm not sure if that's imaginative or not. Personally, I prefer Carnival's handle, 'ImLopineIt'. The second thing I notice, which should probably have been the first thing I noticed, is that the message is actually pretty short and to the point.

              'Sorry for the delay. We're working on the paperwork and will have it with you soon. If you're still happy to go ahead, we'll pick you up straight after the final for a battle test. If there are any issues, let me know.'

              "I'm guessing she kept it short in case anyone else gets in and sees the message," I say. "So. Do you feel ready to talk about that last condition?"

              Carnival shakes her head quickly and makes a sound that sits somewhere between a whine and a nervous growl.

              "Not a problem," I reply with a smile and a playful rub of her hand. "Beer?"

              She nods and lets her head collapse into her hands with a relieved sigh.

              Silence. Or it would be were it not for Jenkins and his infernal bloody tapping. At least he paid attention when I pointed out that I could not give less of a shit about the message boards and their reaction to Laqueta being carried out of the Battle Zone.

              "I am not completely heartless," I harrumph at last.

              "I'm sorry?" Jenkins replies, looking up from his laptop.

              "I just don't give a damn what other people make of it all. The girl. The thing with the girl."

              "Laqueta?" he asks, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead and rubbing his eyes.

              "Yes, yes, Laqueta," I reply, dismissing the name with my hand. "Tell me Jenkins, did Carlston tell you what it is I wish to achieve here?"

              He cocks his head slightly. "You want to win? Or finish highly at least."

              I smile. At least the bastard hasn't spread my business all over the bloody arena. "I may take great pleasure in torturing those who stand between me and my goals, but anyone stupid enough to go through this," I say, tapping my spinal implant. "They have their purpose, their role. Laqueta had hers the same as everybody else, and this whole mess puts that in jeopardy. And not just for her, but for me. It would suit me better to be angry Jenkins, but I am not so blood heartless that I feel nothing for a fellow competitor."

              "I know Sir," he replies with a gentle smile.

              "Oh, go back to your sodding gossip hunting," I growl at the patronising arse. "I didn't ask you for sympathy."

              He opens his mouth to respond but stops and looks past me to the changing room door.

              "Jenkins," comes an all too bloody familiar voice. "Do you think that I could have a private word with Mr Ford please?"

              "Of course," he says, shutting his laptop lid and shuffling quickly past me. "I'll just go grab us some coffee."

              I can feel my mouth form a sneer as the door shuts and Sean Carlston's measured footfalls move around the chair to the seat opposite me. "I don't recall uttering the Devil's name Carlston. Have you not toyed with me enough today?"

              "Did you watch the last match?" he asks, ignoring my jibe.

              "Of course I bloody did. Why?"

              "And the second half? With Fahrn and Dorian?"

              "Second half? Is that what you call it? I call it a man punching a woman on Colonial television. What of it?"

              "So you heard that Laqueta was taken to hospital?"

              I give an angry roll of my eyes. "Yes, I heard that she was taken to hospital. And you're here to tell me that my next match is delayed. I am not a bloody idiot Carlston."

              "No Connor, you're not an idiot," he replies with a tired sigh. "Which is why you know that I would have sent someone else to tell you if your match had been delayed."

              "Well spit it out then," I snap.

              "I have received word that Laqueta ... Meera Thorne ... died before the ambulance could reach the hospital."

              I knew what was coming before the words left his mouth, but even that is not enough to stop my body reacting on instinct and forcing its way to its feet while I roar, "She's dead? You let a child, my bloody opponent, go out there and ... and ..."

              My legs shake and give out from under me, dropping me to the floor. I see Carlston move from his chair just before I hunch into a ball and scream. Tears? Bloody tears as well? Were I twenty years younger I'd kill the bastard for forcing me into this state. "Must everything be taken from me?" I growl. "Illness took my wife. This miserable fucking life took my health. And now even my death is to be taken from me. Have I not suffered enough?"

              I feel Carlston's arm go around me, fumbling for a way to help me up, and I bat it away. "I don't need your pity," I groan, slowly pushing myself back onto my seat. "Nor will I be defeated so bloody easily. I will compete in the post tournament tour."

              "Connor," Carlston replies, "think about this. Maybe this is a second chance for you. We're not powerless here, we can help you. Sure, Emblem care more about money than they do about you, but we can work around that. If you really want to continue competing, then maybe we can run a documentary. We could go public about your health, hire the best doctors out there, on Emblem's tab of course, and follow your road to recovery, at least as far we can. Then, you'll either return to active competition or have one last big match, with an opponent of
your
choosing."

              I laugh. It hurts, but the fool deserves to see that he has amused me if nothing else. "I have tried many doctors. Trying more will not change ..." The coughing fit takes me by surprise. A nice reminder for both him and me that I am right. "I will say this once only Carlston. You are a smart boy. The documentary idea plays into Emblem's goals and saves you from having to sanction a suicide without first doing everything in your power to prevent it. The only problem is that I don't
want
to recover. I will compete in the tour. Try to stop me and I will drag Emblem through the courts for breach of contract."

              He's unphased. He expected this.

              "OK," he nods, then gets to his feet. "At least think about it though. If you change your mind at any point, the offer will still be on the table."

              I nod, and he starts to walk back towards the door. "Carlston?"

              "Yes?"

              "Find a cameraman. I would like to be the one to announce Laqueta's death." I say, turning to face him.

              "Why?" he asks, suspicion dripping from his voice.

              "You saw her play in the qualifiers, Carlston. She didn't stand a chance here. We can at least give her something positive to be remembered for. If you let me announce her death, I will forfeit the play-off to her. She can be the girl that didn't finish a match but still came third."

              He goes quiet for a moment and I fight to hold back the smile. Got you, you bastard. "OK," he says, finally, "I'll send someone over shortly. Or call you to an interview room."

              "Either way," I reply. "If need be, I'll do it live."

              He nods and leaves.

              I let the smile wash over me.