Page 152 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

152

Facing Elimination

W illow

It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the failing sunlight when we finally emerge from the grease pit. The other teams have broken off into groups, chatting and playing the intergalactic version of hacky sack with a small round rock.

They must wonder what we’ve been doing down there all day. I give them something to talk about as I blatantly hit the autozip to close my open coveralls. I’d rather they think the three of us were fucking under there than what we were really doing.

“Dinner will be served in five minutes,” our drones announce.

Zedd appears on the screens a few moments after we sit down to dinner at the long table set up in the open space in front of the building.

“Welcome viewers,” she says as I dig into the mystery food they served us. I think they diabolically found a way to make the viewers at home think we’re eating delicious-looking food while they discovered a way to strip it of taste. Petty, I know, but I think Zedd relishes these little efforts to remind us how despicable and expendable we are.

“I must apologize. I imagined it would be much more exciting watching our teams prepare for the big finish tomorrow. Let me assure you, anything today lacked will be more than made up for tomorrow.”

It’s almost fully dark, so it’s not startling when the area lights up with artificial lights which have been installed for this purpose.

The invisible, nonexistent audience begins applauding wildly for what appears to be no reason. Suddenly, Zedd appears as the applause crescendos. Here she is in the flesh on Blanterra. Her red skin is appealing, especially with her body sheathed in a black, floor-length, body-hugging dress. Her nails match her dress, something she’s known for.

She lifts her arms to accept the computer-generated adulation as she widens her contrived smile.

“Tomorrow’s race is going to be so amazing, so spectacular, that I’ve traveled across the galaxy to watch it in person. I’m sure each and every one of you would be here if you could.

“Although today’s viewing was about as exciting as watching paint dry, tonight, we have an entirely new type of challenge to entertain you with.”

Fuck! I say. I’d wanted nothing more than to get some sleep in the car stall so we could be in peak shape tomorrow.

The guys don’t respond with words, although they both send me a gust of support.

“There will be three rounds of competition. The first two will involve one male from each team, the final round will involve the females. Winner of each competition will be awarded ten points and down the line with the final contestant receiving one point. The team with the most points at the end of all three rounds will win. A perfect score will be thirty. The winning team gets to eliminate their choice of team.”

Eliminate, I echo numbly. We all know elimination means death.

I order my eyes not to look in Gronk’s direction, but they do not obey. He not only eyefucks me—and not in a good way—but he does that obscene tongue wag that the lewdest humans do back on Earth. Gross. It gives me the shivers.

Gronk may be a fucker, Braveheart says, having seen the exchange, but look at everyone else.

At least one member of every team is eyeing us, telegraphing with their stares that we’re their prime choice for elimination. At first, I’m wondering if this has something to do with prejudice against Earth girls, then I realize they must have been checking us out all day.

They had to have noticed I’m the only person who didn’t need a tutorial to drive their car into the garage. I guess it also didn’t escape their notice that we’ve been busy all day while they’ve basically been graffitiing their cars with spray paint.

If I were them, I’d eliminate our team, too.

We’re going to have to win, I say, my voice laced with defeat. Second best means death.

Aye. Braveheart agrees. Otherwise, I think we face certain elimination.