CHPT29

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Micro-Ice shuffled along the corridor, looking at the ground as he walked.

You were stupid to think they wouldn't find out. Stupid.

Six pairs of eyes looked at him as he entered the room. The youngest striker slipped his hands in to his pockets and nervously looked at his teammates.

'I guess I owe you an explanation?'

'What do you mean?' Thran asked his little friend.

'I should have told you guys that he was my father,' Micro-Ice answered as he clicked his feet together, looking at them like they were part of an interesting TV show.

'Hey, it was your choice whether to tell us or not,' Rocket said as he walked over to the upset striker and laid a hand on his shoulder, 'all that matters now is that we can help you out if it gets hard.'

'Don't be afraid to come to us if there's a problem,' Tia smiled.

'And if you're going back to that house, we'll gladly tag along,' Thran laughed, as did the six others.

'Don't worry, we can go back right after we win the cup, apparently you lot aren't the worst house guests he's ever had.'

'We're too charming to be a burden,' D'Jok winked.


Mana-Ice and Shiloh watched the team joke around with the teenager who, just an hour ago, refused to come out of his room out of fear of being judged by his teammates.

'See Shiloh? I told you I could get him to come out.'

'You're his mother, of course he would listen to you.'

'I'll teach you how to make him do whatever you want with one look, it's a life-saver when you come home from work and don't feel like cleaning the house,' the older woman smirked.

'Oh, please do. That boy is a lost cause when it comes to following instructions.'

'You're telling me; once, I asked him to run to the shop and pick up some milk, he came back three hours later after playing football with D'Jok. He didn't even buy the milk.'

'That's nothing; one time, Mr. Quinn asked him to print something from his computer while he went to help Mark with saving something, and he managed to short-circuit every computer in the IT suite.'

'Ah yes, I remember getting a phone call telling me about that. What was he suspended for, a week?'

'Ten days.'

'Oh yes, thank you, dear.'

'You must be thinking of the time he lost every dictionary in the English department.'

'I still don't understand how he did that.'

'No one does, to this day, they're still missing.'

'Didn't he give one teacher chest pains?'

'Yep, Mrs. Devon. She was out for weeks.'

'Well, it's a good thing he's out of education now, who knows what he would have done?'

'I think it's best for everyone that we don't think about it.'


Micro-Ice smacked his head against the bed frame; these sleepless nights were becoming increasingly irritating, especially with the GFC final fast approaching. He reached in to his drawer in hope of finding something that would send him to sleep. Cheese puffs, no… Hair gel, no… Envelope, n- wait, an envelope?

The teenager turned on the bedside lamp and looked at the small, white pocket addressed to him. He opened swiftly and pulled out a typed letter and began to read.

At this point, we are aware of the entire Zaelion Galaxy's knowledge about your father; obviously, this puts you in tremendous risk. You may remember being injected with a purple liquid during your captivity, you will have heard of this substance; which is potentially fatal, especially considering it had been mixed with growth hormones. In a matter of weeks, this substance will have taken over most, if not all, cells in your body. If you wish to live, you must convince your father to hand control of Technoid back to Duke Maddox. You know yourself about the dangers of Metaflux. We will be watching you, Micro-Ice, so I wouldn't advise doing anything stupid.

Tick Tock.

Micro-Ice read the letter again and again, trying to convince himself that this was just another joke that D'Jok would pull to push his buttons.

That's stupid; they got rid of the Metaflux.

I've been a little sick, but it's nothing serious; I'm not dying.

Simbai would have told me if there was something wrong… Oh yeah, it's undetectable.

Micro-Ice wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as it all started to make sense; the syringe, the collapsing, the weakness after using the Breath, the inability to run too far without feeling an overwhelming sense of tiredness.

Oh holy flux.

He threw the letter back in the drawer and shut it tight, almost as if that was going to change the outcome. It was almost like sharing the DNA with the president put you in charge of the galaxy's fate. Here he was, again faced with the choice between the ending of his own life, and sacrificing the lives of many others. Why did these things always happen to him?

Well, if he wasn't getting to sleep before, he certainly wasn't now.


Clamp made his way to the infirmary; apparently there was something important that he and Sonny had to look at. When he walked inside, his old lab partner was already standing in the middle of the room clutching a note while Simbai took a thermometer out of Micro-Ice's mouth and wrote the result down on her clipboard.

'What's going on?' the old man asked.

'Metaflux,' Sonny answered while handing the note to the grey-haired man, his expression was a mixture between worry and anger.

Clamp scanned over the note, becoming paler and paler as he read. Once he finished, he looked up at the teenager sitting on the bed and shot him a look of panic.

'Don't do that, Clamp. You're freaking me out!' Micro-Ice scolded.

'You have to understand how great a risk this is to your health, Micro-Ice,' Sonny said to the boy, 'you should be freaked out.'

Micro-Ice looked at Simbai's screen when a large beep sounded; another test was complete. He watched as the medic lifted the sheet from her printer and read carefully. The woman looked up at the three others who were eager to know the result, hoping that it wasn't as serious as the note made it out to be. Unfortunately, she couldn't give them that news.

'I'm afraid this is bad, Micro-Ice.'

Sonny took the sheet from the medic and scrutinised it carefully, taking in every detail.

'It's already dominated your flux cells, it certainly explains the problems you've been experiencing,' the blonde haired man said to his son's best friend.

'Well, can't you just remove it like last time? You know, when you used that big tunnel-looking machine thing?' the striker pleaded.

'I'm afraid it's not that simple; you see, with the amount of this synthetic flux in your body, it requires a very delicate procedure. If we carry it out now, chances are that you won't recover for the final.'

'The cliché is getting a bit ridiculous,' Micro-Ice muttered under his breath. How was he supposed to tell D'Jok he might not be able to play in the final?

'Can I get back to you on the whole operation thing?'

The Pirate chief nodded, 'of course. Just remember though, time is short.'

Sonny and Clamp then left the room to work on finding a lead on the one who wrote this letter. Simbai turned to the distraught teenager and felt a pain in her chest; these kids were like children to her, each of them. Seeing one of them sick or injured and not being able to do anything broke her heart. She knew what he was thinking; anyone who knew him could see it.

Micro-Ice was going to play in the final, whether it killed him or not.