

Octagla 2: Rematch

by

Donald S. Hall, PhD. and Judi Suni Hall, PhD.

Copyright Gingezel™ Inc. 2016

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. The science fiction is set centuries in the future, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Judi Suni Hall

Smashwords Edition License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

*****

Chapter 1

Red just didn't have the focus Mai decided as she saw herself take the face-off. She was intent on the teleconference replay of last night's Celebrity Octagla game between the men's defending galactic champs, Tamara, and their local Pickup team. Coach Parnthius had called her from Laurion about it.

Retired Genie racer, Jon Melcrist, was moving closer to the wall, then jetting into the Tamara end. With his lean tanned face, dark hair, and compact build Jon was a natural athlete. He gave his stick the additional twist needed to keep the ball from jarring out of the net then he started to run the wall. He only made three strides before Tamara's young star winger Ranga was on the wall too, moving in fast. Journeyman Larr wasn't far behind Ranga, and Maras on defense had shifted to cover this wall action. Perfect. Jon was setting her up the way he was supposed to.

Mai had seen this six times already this morning, but her stomach still tightened as she watched Jon risk a quick look to where she, Trevarr, her partner at the sports medicine clinic, and Joran, better known to the galaxy as pop superstar Anton, on the Gingezel Pickup team were crowded together in the middle of the Tamara end, all ready for his pass. He'd risked telegraphing what he was doing. But he'd got away with it.

The hard pass to the center of her net made it so easy! The momentum had the ball deep in the elastic polymer netting. A simple stick twist and there was no risk of losing it. She watched herself jetting in on Maras, the men's Galactic Octagla league's tough guy. Maras didn't know what to do. It showed in his eyes, in the lines of his body. She used the massive black defenseman as a screen and scored, lower right.

Coach Parnthius had not been watching the images. She had been studying the tiny oriental woman who had starred as center in the Celebrity Game last night, holding her own against the men's galactic champions and looking as good as her Hall of Fame brother, center Torin. The fire she liked to see was there, and Mai was looking a lot better than she'd expected this close after a big game.

"Are you completely sure I can't tempt you to come out of retirement?" she asked. "We're talking first string center on the Spirals." They were likely to take the women's Galactic Octagla league in the coming season.

Mai shook her head. Coach Parnthius was the highest ranking coach to call her this morning, but fourteen had been ahead of her.

"Last night was just for Daron."

"Well, if you change your mind once you've had some rest, you are on my priority access for calls. It was a great game, Mai!"

***

Mai favored her right leg as she walked slowly back out to the greenhouse, but the damned right calf throbbed with every step from a deep bruise. She still couldn't quite believe it. They'd won! She had played center and the Pickup team had beat Tamara! Sure, they'd had a stacked lineup with Tamara's top player Roban playing for them, and her brother Torin and his Hall of Fame friend roof runner Rall coming out of retirement for the night. But winning had not been a given, and they had won!

Mai wasn't even pretending to do anything. Rori had moved an old lounge chair to the strongest patch of watery sunshine in the greenhouse and she was alternating between resting there reliving last night's game, taking calls from friends on her compad, taking calls from coaches and the media in the house on the teleconferencing unit, and imagining spring would finally come to Crescent Bay. Mai eased her tiny frame onto the cushions. Damn! Her right buttock was as sore as her leg. Who had got her there with a check? She had no idea. Well, Rori would have to check out that bruise. She wasn't going to try to twist to see it in a mirror. Mai tipped her head back staring up at the first leaf buds on the tree that would later shade her garden.

Her agenda was clear. She wasn't going in to the Sports Medicine Clinic. They had done the important thing, visit Daron right after breakfast and tell him the Pickups won. That was what it had all been about, wasn't it? Getting Superstud out of his depression and convincing him that his broken neck wasn't the end of things by setting up the game and having him coach. Torin was still there with Daron, re-watching the part of the game Daron had missed by falling asleep and no doubt analyzing every play in the game ten times.

Her husband Rori, ever sensible, had known she wouldn't be moving today, so he was taking the day off work too. She could hear him now, starting to cook lunch. Their oldest girl Meku was in kindergarten. Kimi was in her sandbox at the far end of the yard, and baby Tori was blessedly asleep in his carrier on the floor beside her. He had finally fallen asleep about 4:00 AM, around the time Torin, the uncle he was named for, had staggered in.

Tori had given them all a very long night with his breathing problems. That had been a big mistake, taking him up to the space station for the game. Children under a month old travelled in space, but apparently not her little boy! Rori had ended up spending the trip on the periphery of the station in the clinic there where the rotational pseudo-gravity had calmed Tori down enough he relaxed and breathed. But they couldn't stay there forever, and the trip down ... forget it. She'd remember the game instead.

The call tone on her compad interrupted Mai from remembering that one pass from Roban where she would have sworn he was totally blocked. Mai frowned. It was a local call tone. If Trevarr had changed his mind and wanted her to come in to the clinic to help out with the soccer team, he was out of luck! When he had stuck his head in at breakfast this morning, he'd looked tired, but he was moving. She realized her business partner Trevarr had played a lot more of the game as a utility player than she had as center, but he wasn't out of shape from just having a baby.

Mai squinted against temporarily brighter sun to read the identifier. Maras? What was he doing calling? Was he still mad at her from the game? She had scored almost all of her goals against him, the league's biggest, meanest, toughest defenseman. When it came right down to it he didn't have the heart to really belt a woman.

"Good morning, Maras." Mai gave him a beaming smile. "That was a great game!"

"You played good," Maras agreed.

Now that the game was history and he had spent the night partying with his heroes Torin and Rall, Maras was feeling more mellow. But the game weren't why he called.

"Mai..."

Maras came to a full stop. Why were he calling her? No, he knew why he were calling her. What did he say to Mai were the problem. Maras scowled, his black ugly face anguished. He had worked out real good words but words was slippery things. They was gone.

"Been thinkin' ..."

Mai shifted which hand was holding her compad. Yes, that hand was less stiff. This could take a while. Maras had a slow thought process.

"Yes?" she said encouragingly.

"Thinkin' about you, and little Tori, and Kimi, and Meku."

There. It were out. Now they could relax and he could ask how Torin was this morning. Hung over real good were his bet.

"And?" Mai prompted. She had expected a rehash of the game.

She didn't understand. Damn! Maras squared his shoulders and tried again.

"Time for me to get myself a family, Mai."

"That's great, Maras!" Mai loved espousals or weddings. "Anyone I know?"

"Don't got anyone yet." Maras swallowed hard, then forced the words out. "Thought maybe you got a cousin?"

Mai's thought processes were fast enough. Somehow Maras had got it into his thick head he wanted a family like hers. Not just similar to hers but just like hers, with a cousin instead of her. And he wanted her help. The man was insane. Mai studied the embarrassment, and the pleading expression.

"Maras," she said gently, "it works better if you find someone yourself."

"Don't got nobody," Maras repeated.

Weren't likely to either. He weren't good with nice women. "Mai, I want a nice woman. Not the kind I meet. I want a house like you got. Cute kids." He dried up. That was the longest speech he had made in years.

Mai sighed. "I'll think about it, Maras. That is real good if you want to settle down." Mai was not going to discourage any kind impulses the man had.

"Thanks, Mai."

Maras disconnected before she could say anything else. He could ask about Torin later.

***

"Well, Tori", Mai asked the sleeping infant at her feet, "what do you make of that?!"

Maras seemed serious that he wanted to get married and wanted her as matchmaker. After all, he had actually opened his mouth to say so, and the whole call had obviously mortified him. Mai wasn't sure she thought much of being a matchmaker though. She knew it was the norm in several cultures, but it went against her grain. Still, she had to admit the idea showed a certain realistic grasp of the situation on Maras's part. Without someone to represent him, Mai doubted Maras would get far.

Mai was not silly enough to think that Maras had a shortage of women available to him if he wanted them. Not with his income and celebrity status. But what he probably got were Daron or someone else's castoffs, girls who were willing to put up with a glowering graceless type as long as he spent enough money on them and took them to places where they could be seen with a celebrity, any celebrity. He might possibly even find one who would consider marrying him a reasonable price for being a celebrity wife, for a while anyways, as long as he didn't push the situation and just let her spend his money and avoid him.

But that was exactly what he obviously did not want. He wanted a nice girl and a nice little suburban house, not the mansion he could certainly afford. And Maras wanted babies, lots of babies. He probably wanted dogs too. Mai made a face; she was a cat person. And he would have the guys over for beer to watch every game in the Galactic Men's Octagla league and a lot of the planetary games, even on their anniversary. Maras was no mystery to her. She had spent her life with his type under foot.

Perhaps most importantly though, since he was going to all of this trouble, he would want the efforts to last for life. That was a rather chilling thought. It would be one thing to get yourself involved with Maras. It would be a very, very different thing to try to walk out on him. Sighing, Mai picked up her glass of herbal tea. Damn! That hurt! She repositioned the little side table and told herself to do the exercises she would advise one of the jocks to do. She didn't do a single one.

Well, Maras had asked if she had any suitable cousins. That too had been good sense on his part. They all knew the Octagla business as well as she did, and if they bought in they wouldn't be getting any surprises in the bargain. As far as it went, Mai had four unattached cousins a reasonable age to marry Maras. She was very fond of three of them. The fourth she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. But at a gut level she did not want to give Maras the names of any of the cousins she liked. They were all happy-go-lucky, fun-loving girls, playful, teasing, and very much inclined to stand up for themselves. In fact, they were a lot like herself except that they didn't have the responsibility of children to settle them down. Maras put up with a lot of teasing and back talk from her and Mai knew he liked it. But she also knew that he only liked the teasing because he got it in small doses. She suspected daily doses would sour on him pretty fast, possibly within weeks, and living in a house with Maras in a foul mood would be horrific.

Then too, there was the little matter of fights. Mai believed what Maras had said up there in the court, that he did not intend to ever really hit a woman. But intent could get lost in a good fight. She did not want to lay odds on how he would react to the hands on your hips, yell back as loudly as you were yelled at approach that she used. Rori got a real kick out of it. He tended to just stand there and watch her, then burst out laughing and ask what she intended to do at her size. Throw pillows? Then she'd get the giggles, and then... well that was a digression. Maras would not laugh. You'd be damned lucky if he just walked out and stayed away sulking for a few weeks. Otherwise you'd be in the hospital.

So her cousins were not a great idea at all. But who else was there? The sort of really nice girl he meant was likely to either be scared off by the celebrity status or by Maras himself. Also, you had to be a pro athlete yourself to be totally at ease with a guy who had started out that big then had deliberately built himself up to the extent that Maras had. That took commitment and a lot of maintenance time. A pro athlete ... an idea slowly started forming in Mai's mind. Just what exactly were her old teammates doing? What about Urrda? She played defense.

*****

Chapter 2

"Mai. Look!" Kimi raised her voice. Her mother hadn't even heard her the first time.

"What is it, Kimi?"

Urrda was a real possibility. She played defense herself and was a fair match to Maras in size. Think of the kids that pair could produce.

Kimi held up what had been a beetle prior to being caught by a three-year-old, jammed in a pocket, forgotten while a sand castle was built, and now extracted from the pocket. The treasure was clenched tightly in a very grubby fist.

"Here!"

Mai automatically held out her hand as a memory surfaced, not of attending a wedding but of buying two very nice raku serving platters as presents. Surely they were for Urrda?

Kimi deposited the remains of the beetle in her mother's hand.

"Oh, that's very nice," Mai said with automatic enthusiasm. "Is it for me?"

"No. It's mine."

Kimi retrieved the beetle. It was the biggest bug she has seen this spring.

"All right." Mai returned to her thoughts, then as her daughter went out the door to the sandbox added, "but don't eat it. They only taste good to birds." Really, Kimi shouldn't still be shoving things into her mouth, but you just couldn't trust her.

"Oh."

Kimi looked out the beetle with less enthusiasm. Oh well, it could live in the house. She gave her sand house another loving pat. When first turned out of her bucket there had been four turrets but now it was just a shapeless lump. Kimi was very pleased with the house, but it needed a road, flowers, and trees. She returned to the greenhouse in search of a really pretty flower. That one up by the window was pretty, and she could just reach it. Kimi pulled the flower off, and took it out to the sand house. Now for a tree ...

"Mai, come look!"

Everything was finished, perfect.

"I'm busy, Kimi."

This matchmaking was going nowhere.

"How?"

Kimi came into the greenhouse. Her mother was obviously just laying there. She wasn't even holding her little brother. Tori was asleep in his carrier beside the lounge chair.

"I'm thinking about Maras."

"Maras?"

Kimi looked out around the yard, but she didn't see him and she couldn't have missed him. He was really, really big. Maras was her most favorite person. Having convinced herself he wasn't there, Kimi started towards the kitchen door at a trot.

"Maras with Rori?"

That got Mai moving, and she caught Kimi just as she was stretching for the door contact. That was a firm rule she and Rori had. Whoever was cooking did not need to have the kids underfoot, and he was cook.

"No, Maras isn't here. I said thinking, not visiting." Mai picked up her daughter and walked out to the sandbox. "Show me your nice house."

"No. I want to see Maras." Kimi squirmed. She loved playing with Maras. When he lifted you 'way up' it was better than the swing in the park.

"You can't see Maras. He isn't here."

"Call Maras."

If she couldn't see him, she'd call him. That was fun too. He had all that hair, and he made really good faces.

"And I say no."

It was too bad Kimi wasn't in her teens. Maras would have to fight her off. Maybe he could wait fifteen years or so and they could skip this matchmaking stuff. She wasn't getting anywhere. Mai put her daughter down beside the sandbox and pointed.

"What's this?"

Kimi's answer was loud and animated. With the door to the green house ajar, it woke Tori up. He opened his eyes and did not see his mother where he expected her, but he could hear her so the universe was probably fine.

Really, parents could be stupid. Kimi pointed at another lump of sand and continued explaining the obvious to her mother.

Mai wasn't listening. She was looking resignedly at the lily blossom stuck in sand. The remains of the beetle were carefully placed in the middle of it, and the lily was not in much better shape than the beetle. It was the first blossom this year on that plant, and she had intended it as a centerpiece for the supper table. Well, that would teach her to get there first. She looked back at the castle.

"Kimi, why is there a tree in the middle of the road?"

She assumed the piece of bush was meant to be a tree. Curious, Mai honestly tried to follow the complicated answer but the mix of misused Comlan, residual baby talk, and the private language Meku and Kimi were developing defeated her. Her eyes strayed back to the lily. It really was a lovely color, a rich creamy white with just a blush of pink at the tips and the throat. Just the color Cailla would love.

Cailla? Mai rocked back on her heels. Cailla?

Little Tori, having waited as long as he waited, decided lunch would be a good next move. He started making the noise that usually attracted his mother.

At the far end of the yard lost in her inspiration and with the background noise of Kimi explaining the sand castle, Mai didn't hear him. As Kimi kept talking. Mai kept thinking. What about Cailla and Maras? The Octagla side would work. Cailla was planetary pro, playing outer right-wing for the Pendrae Nebula. But would she like Maras? Cailla had seen her share of grief from men in her life. It seemed to have taken her a couple of tries to recognize the Superstud type on sight. But Maras wasn't that type, was he?

Tori decided he was being ignored. He changed to full volume crying, the heartbroken kind.

Tori! She couldn't let him get breathing problems again. And she should never have crouched down on her knees! Mai forced herself up through overall pain and went to investigate. Not that it would take much investigating. It would be one end or the other he wanted seeing to.

Kimi watched her mother's retreating back with resentment. She wasn't through telling her mother about the tree. Oh well, if Mai was busy, maybe it was a good time to call Maras. She started running to the house.

"Oh no you don't!"

Mai caught her halfway to the door. This running and lunging was loosening her up. Kimi firmly on her hip, Mai went to where Tori was turning purple again. There had been spells like this all night. They should have never taken him up to the space station. But how did she calm Tori down? Sitting down, Mai wedged Kimi firmly between her knees and put a hand down to her son to check the diaper.

"Have you got yourself all wet?"

Tori was not wet. He wanted to eat. Now! The volume rose.

"Problems out here?"

Rori wiped his hands on the bright red chef's apron. He was equally worried. He was the one who had spent the night at the clinic on the space station trying to keep Tori calm enough to breathe while Mai played Octagla.

"I should have been born with four hands, that's all." Mai doubted that she was managing to sound convincing.

In her eyes Rori was still the young man she had seen at the marina and fallen for on sight. Medium height, square shoulders, a narrow waist for a man. Curly light brown hair, a face permanently tanned from hours on the water, and a smile that still made her melt. He was a partner at a yacht charter service, which sounded a lot more glamorous than it was. The first time Mai had seen him Rori was washing down the deck of a motor launch that was chartered for later in the day. His eyes were a bit of a lot of colors, but right now they looked green, the color they were when he was worried.

"Things are under control in the kitchen. I'll take Kimi."

Mai released Kimi and picked up her son.

Tori decided that this offhand treatment deserved a more serious protest. He kept on crying.

Kimi made a beeline for her father. He'd let her call Maras.

"And how is my Kimi?" He picked Kimi up, gave her a kiss, then swung her up in an arc. Putting her down, Rori looked around the yard. "Is Meku back yet? The chicken will be done in fifteen minutes."

"No sign of her yet. She's probably finishing a drawing. You'd better call her." Mai turned her attention to Tori. "Do calm down. Will you be happier if I feed you?" Stroking him with one hand, she undid the closure of her blouse with the other.

That was better. Tori sucked greedily at the tiny breast.

It was fun when Rori swung her around, but it just wasn't as good as Maras. Kimi said firmly, " I want to call Maras!"

"Later."

Uh huh. Kimi and Meku had talked about that word 'later'. It had a really nasty habit of morphing into 'no' if you didn't tie it down real fast.

"When?" she demanded.

"After lunch, if you eat your salad."

See. It had morphed again. Kimi had no intentions of eating her salad. She had eaten lots of green things in the greenhouse. She liked doing that. You knew where something came from if you picked it, and if the bugs liked it it was probably good. You never knew what was in the messes Rori made. And if you didn't move fast and stop him he put yucky tasting oily stuff on it.

"All the salad?"

"No. You can pick out one piece you really hate and leave it. You eat the rest."

Well, so much for calling Maras. Kimi sank down on the floor, the picture of dejection.

Rori ruffled her hair. "Tough life, isn't it kid." He returned to the kitchen.

*****

Chapter 3

"Am I too late?"

Roban took a swipe at his face with a sodden tissue and tried to blink the water out of his eyes. The day's blustery weather had settled into a downpour when he was two blocks from the clinic. He'd done a wind sprint with no hood or hat. His team jacket was hanging dripping in the foyer, but his dark blond hair needed a toweling and was dripping in his eyes.

Daron's soccer playing friend Reno gave Roban a fraction of a second glance and went back to his compad.

"Nah. There's millions – months worth."

Knett had trouble not laughing at the blank expression on Roban's plain face.

"Reno, I think he means supper. Get your legs off the table and out of my way!"

Rising, Knett turned to Roban. "What do you want? I'll get it." He waved a well muscled arm at Reno in a guest chair. "We're helping Daron go through those 'Get Back in Action Soon Superstud' images Hidi had his fans send." Grabbing a stack of towels Knett put them in Roban's hand.

"Use these. More absorbent than tissue."

"Thanks."

Roban could just look over Knett's shoulder at Daron as he toweled off. Those images must be good. Daron hadn't looked up since he entered. It still bothered Roban to see him like this. He looked so small and fragile laying there with his banks of monitors. And his skin was startlingly white against his dark hair. But there was a trace of animation that hadn't been there before.

"A7 please." Roban knew everything in the cater unit at the clinic. He was starved, hurt all over, and his electrolytes were off.

Daron's face clouded and he could feel a tremor start in his leg. He took one more look at the image. No. It wasn't Krysta. He had wanted it to be, and it had helped him remember her, but it wasn't Krysta.

Raising his face to study Roban, Daron asked, "Did you get space sick playing so much of the game?" Roban had anchored both lines for the Pickups.

"No," Roban said seriously. "I had full blood work done here while you were sleeping this afternoon. I'm just exhausted to the point of shaking and want to get over that fast."

It had cost, that last shift when Isley had obviously decided to crank up the level to all out pro. It had been a miracle playing with Torin and Rall in those circumstances. But it had cost him. Them too. They'd been with him getting their blood work done.

He made a face as he eased aching muscles into the chair Knett had vacated. "And I should have checked the weather and taken a taxi over. I had to run in the rain for a few blocks. So quit worrying, and tell me how it feels to be a winning coach."

"Amazing ... unreal."

Daron told himself to relax. Being space sick wasn't something Roban would lie about. And he had made him promise to bench himself when he got too tired.

Reno tipped his compad, and Roban looked at the image. If these were what these women considered 'not too racy'... That had been Hidi's instructions. Nothing too racy. Well, Knett and Reno were obviously enjoying them. Roban knew Reno slightly. For that matter, he knew most of the Plenata Windridge soccer team. Their paths crossed a lot on the galactic circuit. But wiry dark Reno was Daron's friend, not his.

"One A7." Knett deposited the tray by Roban. As the trauma specialist nurse in charge of Daron, he had the attitude that keeping Daron relaxed was higher on the list than any protocols. When he'd been brought in Daron had been classed a 'difficult patient'. Depressed, unstable, and frequently hysterical.

"Reno," he continued, "there's an empty massage tub you booked." No one was booked after Reno, but one visitor at a time for Daron was enough.

"Shit!" Reno looked at his time strip. "I'm out of here."

Knett settled himself in the chair Reno had vacated, taking out his compad. "I get the blondes and redheads, I route you the brunettes, and we share the exotics, right?"

Thick ankled feet went up on the table. Knett intended to stay here and act busy until Roban left or Daron fell asleep because there was no way he was letting them talk freely. Daron was too exhausted from coaching. Let them talk, and in two sentences Daron would be worrying about Ranga with his shattered hand and Ghen with his broken ribs in their rooms down the hall. Normally Knett was a great believer in facing reality, but not until Daron had at least a day's rest. He'd slept for six hours after Torin left. Torin should have kept his bloody mouth shut!

"So how did calling the play for the old pros go?" Knett was honestly curious. "Did either listen to a word you said, Roban?"

"Surprisingly, yes. And working with Rall was so much like Larr it was unnerving. His dad not only has the same moves, they think alike in a court!" They looked so much alike too, except Larr had is mother's blonde hair, a striking contrast to his black skin.

*****

Chapter 4

"Mai, how are you?"

Cailla was, and wasn't surprised at the call. Mai was like that. She'd get something into her head she wanted to tell you, and call. You might hear from her twice in a week, then not for six or eight months. When was the last time they had talked? It must have been five, maybe six weeks before Tori was born. Cailla had half expected a thank you call for the baby present, but even an email hadn't happened. Maybe that was why Mai was calling. After all, she had celebrated the event by actually going to the trouble of shipping a gift between planets rather than selecting one to be delivered on Gingezel. This was because she'd decided the right gift was a really cute pair of baby rompers that she'd carefully sewn crests of all the Galactic Octagla teams on.

Mai studied Cailla before answering. She was bundled up in a thick fleecy robe of pale blue, and her hands were cradling a steaming mug. Her pale blonde hair looked like she'd made a very halfhearted effort at forcing a comb through its considerable length and given up. Devoid of mascara, the lashes framing her pale blue eyes were just as pale as her hair. Her skin was very fine and almost transparent, giving her an illusion of delicacy enhanced by the bone structure. She looked half asleep.

"Wiped. Did I wake you?".

It had taken quite a few call tones to get an answer. They were on the same time, and Mai had decided to call while the kids were still asleep. So it was morning, but rather early.

"Technically I've been up for a while." A whole five minutes. "As for waking up, I'm not sure today is worth it. It's one of those light eating days that can't decide whether to rain or snow. How about Crescent Bay?"

"Yesterday glowered all day. We're supposed to have sun today but it will be chilly."

"That sounds divine compared to here." Cailla yawned. "But how long can we talk?" Obviously this was not a thank you call. That would be over by now. "I know Gingezel has its own hyperweb you're calling on, but is it still cheap off planet?"

Mai nodded. "Off planet calls are still the same cost as local."

"Must be nice." Cailla took a better look at her friend. "Mai, how do you do it? You never struck me as the superwoman type, but here you are with a job, three kids, and looking like you could still play pro in that Octagla game."

It was the lead Mai wanted. She had absolutely no idea whether or not Cailla would be receptive to even meeting Maras, and discussing the idea with Rori after they had bathed the kids and put them to bed last night was no help at all. He'd just said she was stark raving crazy and made her think about it over night. But the one nice thing about Cailla was that if she didn't like the idea she'd just flatly say no.

"Looking pro was easy having Roban to set me up. I couldn't look bad."

"I'm so jealous! I've always wondered what it was like to play with him."

"He's amazing!" The discussion became highly technical, then finally drifted to other aspects of the game.

"I never dreamed Ranga was Ghen Kulgalu's son," Cailla said. Ranga, the hottest young winger in the league was the son of a drug lord! That had been a shocker. "Although seeing them together, I don't know why the gossip hasn't been all over the place since the day he signed!" They both had the sallow skin, unruly mane of brown hair, high forehead, and strong almost hawk-like nose.

"It's better not to admit you know some things," Mai said.

"You mean you did all along?"

"Of course. Ghen has a villa outside town. He and Ranga both use it."

"I don't know about some of the friends you're making there, Mai."

Mai shrugged. "It's part of the job and I like Gingezel."

"But there is one player I'm really curious about." Cailla gave a sleepy half smile. "Who is that absolutely dreamy blond, Chett whoever? I mean, it was ridiculous his playing defense with his slight build, and he didn't have the moves, but on-court moves aren't everything are they?"

"Cailla, your drooling!" Mai was not pleased. How could you possibly make Maras look good with Chett in the picture?

"Me and half the women in the galaxy," Cailla said in her soft, gentle voice. "You should have seen Hidi, the color commentator, when she talked about him. So who is he?"

"Chett Linderson."

"And how does he fit in? Is he a friend of Superstud's or Anton's?"

"Neither. Actually he's a friend of Mrail's."

"And what is he off the court?"

"A businessman."

Having to pry the information out one bit at a time was ridiculous! "Mai, you're making this uphill. Don't you like this Chett fellow?"

Mai gave up. Maras was just out of luck. "Of course I like Chett. There isn't a woman alive who doesn't like Chett. That," she said pointedly, "is the problem."

Cailla smiled. "And you think I've forgotten my early lessons and will ask you for an introduction? No fears there – what I didn't guess on sight I figured out from Hidi. That doesn't mean I can't admire from a distance though – a safe distance. So how bad is he?"

Mai chewed on a lip. "I don't know. The last six months or so he's sort of gone into semiretirement. When he first hit Gingezel and was hanging around with the Anton crowd a lot he was making Superstud look like an amateur."

Cailla giggled. "That is bad." Her teammates on the Nebula would love this gossip. "By the way, before I forget, tell Torin he still has the moves left. My it was good to see him in a court again."

"Oh, it was, wasn't it? I'll tell him." Torin would be pleased too. He liked Cailla. Maybe this gave her an in, so Maras couldn't say she didn't try. "And what did you think of that check I got from Maras at the end of my shift?"

"Oh Mai!" Cailla's voice was heavy with censure but her eyes were dancing with laughter. "That was wicked! I've never seen a man look so upset."

Mai grinned. "He was, wasn't he? Did you see his face when I kissed him! So what do you think his chances are this year for most valuable defense?" She'd take this very slowly and get a feel for what Cailla thought of Maras. That way she wouldn't risk embarrassing herself or Cailla.

"I'd say he'll tie for third as a defenseman, with about four of the other guys. But that's just my prejudice as a winger. I like a relatively agile defenseman, which Maras will never be. I don't expect you to agree as a center who needs a slingshot play. Or the sportscasters." They were all saying he was having his best season yet and arguing whether he'd rank first or second among the defensemen. A couple even said he should get MVP which was ridiculous.

"And besides technique, what do you think?"

Cailla shrugged. "What's to think? He's one very big, very mean brute, which is exactly what he's paid to be, isn't it?"

Since that happened to be the truth, Mai couldn't decide whether this was discouraging or not. She decided to give it one last try.

"And what do you think he's like off the court?"

"He's probably still one very big, very mean brute." Cailla had never heard anything else. "Why? Is he giving you grief at the clinic again? I hadn't heard he was injured."

"No, he's fine." Mai decided she'd back out now while she could.

But now Cailla was suspicious of this question session. "Mai, what was that all about? He hasn't put you up to setting me up for a date has he?"

"No, of course not." That was technically true. He wanted a wife, not a date, and he'd probably never heard of Cailla. It was time to get out of this and say goodbye. "Maras has all the dates he wants, I'm sure."

"Then you hear different gossip than I do. The gossip on the Octagla circuit is that there's been real bad blood between him and Daron, so he doesn't hang out with the party crowd unless he's being Big Luis's shadow. And on his own he manages only two or three dates a year."

Cailla was right, she was too out of touch with the old crowd. She hadn't heard that at all. Her mind immediately took a medical turn. Without thinking Mai said, "Oh dear, do you think he has some sort of a problem?"

Cailla snorted. "Not him! His appetites are healthy enough. He just believes in the time-honored cash approach and skip the emotional entanglements."

Mai looked at her friend, horrified at the direction the conversation had taken. It really was a good thing she hadn't said anything. Just maybe she should have done a little bit of checking around before calling Cailla.

Cailla was watching Mai, puzzled. "Mai, you look shocked. Since when did you turn into a prude? You know as well as I do that your brother Torin was as bad as any of them when he was on the galactic pro circuit. I've heard two versions of what he got paid for his list when he broke his neck, but I never did hear who paid that amount!"

Mai completely gave up. Maras was on his own. "What figures did you hear?" she asked with real curiosity.

Cailla told her.

Mai shook her head firmly. "That first one is nonsense. Strictly urban legend stuff. The second is about right."

"That's still a lot of credits, even for those guys. Who paid it, or isn't Torin talking?"

Mai giggled. "No one did, that's how he got so much. He split the list up and sold it in chunks – and don't ask me how he split it up. I don't know and don't want to! He was just getting bored to tears in the hospital and figured he'd get more visitors that way."

"That sounds like Torin," Cailla observed dryly. "Now, what's going on with Maras?"

"Nothing, truly."

"Mai, you're lying. I'll just keep calling you back and bugging you till you tell me now that I'm curious."

Cailla would too. For such a gentle creature she could be tenacious, and was ruthless in an Octagla court. Mai hesitated. She had never intended to embarrass Maras by saying what was going on. If Cailla was interested she'd have just said 'would you like to meet him?'. Still, Cailla wouldn't laugh. She had a lot of the same values as Maras. She avoided the party circuit, she had her own little house in the suburbs. And she wouldn't gossip if firmly warned not to. She liked her own privacy.

"Oh, all right." Mai sighed. "But Cailla, this really and truly is not gossip like the rest of the stuff we've talked. Will you respect Maras's privacy?"

Cailla straightened up putting the mug down."All right, but what do you know that's so career shattering?"

"Not career shattering. It's just that in some ways Maras is very withdrawn."

That might be the best understatement Mai had ever come out with, Cailla thought. She'd seen Maras on holovision so often it was easy to imagine him. Massive, so dark the only description for his skin was black, blunt features, and with that ridiculously elaborate hairdo. They'd all had a hilarious break or so at practice wondering just how long it took him to section it, braid parts, bunch other parts, and put still more parts through those heavy gold tubes, and if he just washed it still braided, with the multiple showers he took in a day, or what.

But that was all visual. What did anyone know about Maras? That he showed up on the court focused, and played a good game. He obviously spent hours in addition to games and team practices working out in a gym. And beyond that? He more or less went back to his portel room and shut the door except when he tagged along with Big Luis. He must have family that he either did, or did not, get along with. He must have something he did between games and work outs other than watch and analyze the competition. Or maybe that was all he did. Cailla had no idea.

She realized Mai had dried up, and was just sitting there looking partially amused and largely embarrassed. "Come on, Mai. It can't be that bad."

"It's not bad. Actually, it's kind of sweet. You see," Mai shrugged, "somehow Maras has got it into that head of his that he wants to get married. And he has very definite ideas of what that means. He doesn't want the celebrity stuff. He wants a nice girl, a house in the suburbs, and enough kids to fill it."

"So, what's bad or embarrassing about that? It sounds surprisingly normal to me," Cailla said.

Mai shifted, looked aside. That plant needed watering.

"Yes. Only the problem is he claims he never gets to meet any of those nice girls..." She trailed off.

Cailla stared, then started to laugh. "And you're to try your luck at matchmaking? Good luck! If you've been working up to asking for sympathy, you've got it."

The increased embarrassment on Mai's face got through to Cailla and her smile faded. "Mai," she asked sternly, "are you thinking of me? Because if you are, either you or Maras, or both, are certifiable." She'd had enough man troubles for a lifetime, thank you, and Mai knew it.

Mai put in a firm disclaimer. "Maras has never mentioned you. For all I know, he doesn't know you exist. And you're right, it was a really stupid idea. And I apologize. What I will do now, and should have done right away, is tell Maras to forget it, he's on his own. He can start browsing the matchmaker sites or whatever."

She shrugged. "I don't honestly know why I thought you'd go out with him. But it was dumb. I've forgotten that I ever had the idea already, okay?" Mai liked Cailla and didn't want to lose a friend.

"Not so fast." Cailla had little frown lines between her pale brows and a distant, abstracted look. "I didn't say I wouldn't go out with him. I said setting me up to marry him was crazy. But you've got me curious. If he wants company when they're here for the rematch, I wouldn't mind supper with him. Meet somewhere safe – maybe that little restaurant your cousin runs. Talk Octagla, say good night, that's it."

"Uh huh. And who's certifiable?" Mai wanted to know.

*****

Chapter 5

How could it be taking Mai this long to get over to the hotel? Maras had wondered all night if she'd do anything, then she called and said she were on the way. He did not make the mistake of trying to tell himself he weren't nervous. He was an expert on those particular symptoms, and he were damned nervous. Maras also did not make the mistake of trying to tell himself it were stupid to be nervous. His stomach tended to ignore that kind of logic. Instead, he tried to distract himself. He'd already put his best suit on, and his best gold hair tubes. What else were there to do?

What were Isley gonna do about replacing Ranga now his hand were busted? Did Mai even have any cousins? If she did, would they be like her? He'd have to ask how long Torin were staying. He was a nice guy. Maybe they could have a beer. He didn't care if Mai's cousins was beautiful, or even pretty. Mai were only kind of pretty. She was cute, and chippy, and fun. He could see why Rori were stuck on her. How long was that woman gonna be? He should turn on holovision. Or would she get pissed if he were watching when she came? Maras supposed he would have to go out with whoever Mai came up with, at least once. But what if she were a real dog?

Maras told himself sternly that didn't matter. He just wanted a nice person. Someone who would be good to him, and their kids. After all, his dad always swore that if you took the time to look real hard, every woman had something going for her. His dad had lots and lots of hours watching customers in the bar to back it up. Now it was a game Maras sometimes played himself. His dad were right too. Sometimes it was just the shape of an earlobe, or a pretty little ankle, but you could find it, and – Hell! Where was Mai! Scowling Maras turned on the holovision sports.

***

"Sorry I'm late, Maras." Mai came though the hotel room door at a trot, wearing her clinic uniform. "I was just heading out the door when Tori woke up screaming from a nightmare or something and Rori couldn't quiet him."

"Is he all right?" Poor little guy. Torin were real worried about his nephew.

"I hope so. He sure didn't like that trip to the space station. Rori has him for now." Mai tried to smile. "Them's the joys of kids."

"Yup." Maras nodded, clinking his hair tubes. "I got three brothers an' a sister. Since I were twelve I had to babysit whenever my mother drew night shift, cause my dad works 8 PM to 4 AM."

"So that's why you're so good with kids." Mai had never heard this family history.

"Am I?" Maras was surprised.

"The girls adore you, especially Kimi. If she was twenty or so, your problems would be solved."

Which brought them back to why she was here. There was an awkward silence.

Looking at Mai all Maras could decide was that she looked as nervous as he felt. That weren't good. At last, since she didn't seem to be finding words Maras asked stolidly, "So, did you think of any cousins?" He just wanted to get this over with.

"Yes and no," Mai said. "I have one I wouldn't wish on anyone." There was no way she was mentioning the ones she liked. She bit her lip. The direct question about cousins had thrown her. She'd hoped to just start with Cailla.

"That's all right," Maras said hastily, relieved just to have any resolution to the embarrassment. All the same, he was hurt. She were lying. She'd thought about it, and he weren't good enough. "I understand."

Mai looked at the glowering gold framed face. "I doubt it," she said bluntly. "I'm not insulting you, Maras. I'm trying to save you from a lifetime of scraps that I think you'd hate. She's got a vicious tongue.

"What I did do was think a friend of mine that you might like..." Mai suddenly trailed off, not wanting to oversell Cailla, who had only agreed to supper after all.

A friend. Maras's mind immediately went to the young women in Crescent Bay. There were a number of them, and he and the rest of the guys on the team knew quite a few by sight now. It couldn't be that really cute technician at the clinic with the black curly hair. Him an' every last guy on the team had asked her out and got turned down, her saying she didn't mix business with pleasure. She were nice. She almost made the brush off sound like a compliment, not like getting frosted. So who were it? Whoever it was, they wouldn't know Octagla, but that might be okay if they had Mai to explain it. A shopgirl? A professional like Mai?

Maras felt his neck tighten and instinctively balled a fist. What about a professional not like Mai? Mai couldn't be friends with none of them high-powered business types what existed in the office towers of megacities. The kind that wore them andro-whatever business suits, their hair in sleek caps, their makeup always perfect and never sexy. The kind what always walked like they was going somewhere important. Larr figured they was a real turn on. Planetside he'd go park himself somewhere an' watch them when one of those towers emptied. And once in a while when one like that brought a client to a game, he'd find a way to go to the box and get introduced and try a pickup. So far Larr's score were a flat zero, but he were still trying.

Maras was terrified of them, and he already had one in his life; his agent.

***

It hadn't started out that way. His first agent had been a former player – nothing great, just a few seasons as a winger on a planetary farm team before he got the message he wasn't going anywhere and did a business degree. Maras had been comfortable with him. They spoke the same language and understood each other. Then, at the end of his first year with Tamara, right in the middle of contract negotiations, there had been that unfortunate little problem with a hang glider. Maras had gone to see his agent in his body cast. He'd apologized, and asked Maras if just this one time a partner could take over. The medic types were hostile about him even seeing a client, so he'd lied and called Maras an old buddy.

Reluctantly Maras had agreed. He knew what hospitals was. Besides, what else could you say to someone all trussed up like that? So, at the appointed time he'd been shown to an office, and She had been sitting at the desk. They'd gone over the details of his contract, his statistics, and his priorities in negotiating. He hadn't liked the questions, he hadn't understood the big words, and he hadn't liked Her. It felt like getting grilled by the cops. Then She'd gone back to the figures: the asked, the expected, the fallback, all this with a snooty look on Her face. It had been the year after Pendrae dumped him and Isley picked him up. Maras and his old agent figured he were lucky to still be galactic pro and weren't pushing it at all.

"Given your stats this is unrealistic, Maras. Give me a couple days and I'll get back to you."

Were bad. Depressing. She weren't going to even try. He were back playing planetary.

Two days later Maras was back in that office, hating it more than ever.

"Your management is a pain, Maras, especially Marti. No wonder the negotiations were getting nowhere. You look like one tough customer. Can I play rough on this one?"

How did you answer that to a woman? He'd nodded.

She'd gone on. "Okay. For the next week, keep your head down. Anything, and I mean anything, the press asks you, all you say is 'talk to my agent'. Same for your coach and managers, especially Marti."

He nodded, stood.

As he was at the door She'd added, "It would be a real bad week to screw up in the court, Maras."

The week had been a nightmare. All of a sudden he couldn't move without stepping on a reporter. Isley, and even Marti who he rarely saw, had gone out of their way to let him know he'd acquired first-class pain-in-the-ass status. About halfway through the week his father had borrowed the money to call and ask if he really knew what he was doing, negotiating with two other teams when he was lucky to be with Tamara and happy where he was. That one had been hard to field since he hadn't known that he were. Maras stopped watching the sports since the stories about him were getting on his nerves, and She never once called, never told him nothing. His teammates were all giving him a rough time too. Big Luis thought he were crazy, Larr and Mercan figured it were the funniest thing in ages. He'd just done what She'd said, not talked to nobody and stuck to playing Octagla.

Then the week was over, and he were back in Her office reading a contract waiting for his signature. He started out with an 'I've got to get this over with attitude.' On the second reading it started to sink in. His salary was twenty percent above his realistic expectations and thirty five percent above the fallback, with the option to negotiate performance bonuses. The couple non-salary items they'd been choking on were there, plus a whole lot of lifestyle perks he never thought of, like Tamara covered his restaurant tab, including planetside.

She said, "I'd have preferred an escalating salary to the performance bonuses, but I hit a brick wall there. If they aren't coming through you can always just break the contract and walk next season. Both of the other teams I talked to have declared a long-term interest, but they didn't have quite as much cash this year. Both will be in a different position next season, with retirees."

Maras had just nodded. Maybe he were reading wrong. Maybe he were hearing wrong.

"Personally, I recommend you sign. But if you like the looks of your long-term prospects elsewhere, that's up to you. We can take the loss this year and make it up later."

He'd signed.

She'd permitted herself the first smile he'd seen. It wasn't an improvement.

"You owe me on this one, Maras. It's the best number I've done on managers in years. How about we make it supper tonight?"

What could he do? Supper had been worse than the week. She had obviously leaked it to reporters in advance, and there'd been a horrifying session outside the restaurant while he stood there and She talked and he didn't understand a thing. Then they had gone in. It was one of them restaurants you went to be seen at, not to eat. For once that had been fine with Maras, because he'd been so nervous that the 'you owe me' wasn't ending with supper that all he'd done was push the toy-sized portions around his plate. He had no idea what he'd said, if anything.

It had ended there though, with a handshake, and he'd gone back to his hotel room alone. He had ordered up some real food, at Tamara's expense, and reread the contract. Maras couldn't figure how he got it. All he could come up with was that the Tamara negotiator had been as terrified of Her as he was.

Then Maras had calculated what that twenty percent higher base salary would mean over what was by definition short career even if he didn't wreck himself. Then he calculated maximum and minimum bonuses. Over two slices of cake, one chocolate, one almond something, Maras had decided he could live with a little terror in his life. In the morning he had changed agents to Her.

***

Maras did not want be married to anyone remotely like Her. He eyed Mai warily. "What kind a friend?"

"An old Octagla teammate of mine. She plays pro for the Pendrae Nebulae."

An Octagla teammate? Now, that were a good idea!

"Who?"

"Do you follow women's Octagla? She's outer right wing on the Nebulae. Her name is Cailla." Mai looked at him expectantly.

"Sorry, Mai." Maras felt like he was disappointing her. "It's about all I can do to follow the men's planetary pro."

Mai nodded. It had been like that for Torin too – always looking over his shoulder at the younger guys, and there were so many planetary pro leagues. "Well, I put together some images of recent games before I came over. Want to look?"

It was Maras's turn to nod. Mai extracted the memory pac from her purse, and they settled themselves on the couch in front of the media wall. His stomach were all jumpy again. The woman Mai pointed out was medium build, about what you'd expect for an outside winger, maybe a bit tall. Maras couldn't tell what she looked like since she were in a uniform and helmet, except she were obviously white. Then he forgot he were thinking about marrying her and got lost in the play.

"She's got some moves that's as smooth as Roban's, Mai." He didn't know the women were that good. Except Mai, but she were Torin's sister.

"She always has had."

"So how come she isn't galactic pro?"

"She gets the offers and turns them down. Cailla says it's because she's too lazy. I think it's a lifestyle thing though, which is part of why I thought of her. I mean, you're starting to sound tired of living in space portels, and like you'd like a home somewhere. Cailla's already made that decision. She's got this comfortable little house in the suburbs, and the prettiest garden. I think she just doesn't want to be away from it for most of the year."

Maras nodded. This all sounded real good. Someone like that sure wouldn't be trouble not understanding his playing. She'd even teach him a thing or two on the court.

Mai paused the action. "Now we'll see her with her helmet off." She restarted the action.

Cailla returned to the team box, and took her helmet off, accepting a towel to wipe her face. Her blond hair was in two plaits wound around her head. She was laughing and excited.

Maras stared. That were an Octagla player? She was beautiful, all white hair and skin, and laughing blue eyes.

"Forget it, Mai. Someone like her won't never go out with me."

"Wrong! She's already said she would!" Mai was immensely pleased.

"Mai!" Maras stared, appalled. She weren't supposed to have done nothing like that.

Mai bristled. "Maras, otherwise Cailla wouldn't talk to you, even if you called up and said you were a friend of mine. You see, there's something you should know about Cailla.

"When she first turned pro she got a lot of media attention. She was pretty and young and well, if you ask me, just plain naïve. She attracted the Superstud types in a big way, and she really fell for one of them. When the next young pretty girl got a lot of press – I think it was a model – he dumped Cailla. She took a long long time to recover. Now she simply won't go out with someone she doesn't know.

"She doesn't know you, so she wouldn't even talk to you. I had to vouch for you and your good intentions, say that you were a nice guy and just wanted to meet her, that sort of stuff. So Maras," Mai gave him her best clinic glare, "behave yourself. Don't get shortsighted and go for a one night stand or you'll cost me a friend!"

"Mai!" How could she think that? "I wouldn't do that with a nice girl."

Mai almost said that was what she'd heard from Cailla, then thought better of it. She really should quit while she was ahead and get out of here.

"Good. Just remember that when you see her. She can be gorgeous if she tries, although usually now she does the opposite. Plays her looks down so she'll probably show up in jeans and a sweater and no makeup. By the way, you're taking her to my cousin's restaurant when you're back replaying Pendrae United. The info on the restaurant is on the same pac as the Octagla footage." Mai stood up. "And I've got to get Tori and head for the clinic." Rori was taking Kimi out on the lake with him.

Well, he'd asked for it. He didn't know Cailla, but he did know Mai real good so he'd better agree.

"Thanks for all the trouble, Mai."

"No trouble." She wanted to be out of here before she let it slip Cailla knew she was matchmaking.

Maras looked at her. She were acting a little funny and heading for the door a little too fast. He eyed her suspiciously. "Mai. Just exactly what did you say when you was selling me as a nice guy?"

"I don't know. We talked all sorts of stuff." She fished in her purse. "Now, before you meet Cailla, you really should read this." She pressed a book pac into his hand. "Good luck." She was out the door.

Hell! They'd been talking about him and this Cailla woman knew he wanted to get married. Now what did he do? Sourly Maras looked at the book pac in his hand. Pinky with flowers all over it. Hell!

*****

Chapter 6

Roban opened the hotel room door, his dark blond hair rumpled, his plain features blurry, his eyes sleepy. He'd gotten tired of the card game with Larr, Tarell, and Rundell, come back to his room, and fallen asleep watching holovision.

"Maras?" His team mate was standing there, resplendent in his best suit and hair tubes. Roban frowned then after a hesitation said "Come in."

It wasn't that Roban meant to be rude. It was simply that in all their time as teammates Maras had never once shown up at his door for any reason, and it threw him.

"Thanks." Maras came in and waited for Roban to close the door. "I was hoping you could help me."

He had given this serious thought. If Daron weren't in the hospital he would have avoided Roban just to not have Daron snooping in his affairs. Daron were a snoop. But except for being Daron's friend, something he'd never figured out, Roban were all right. And Maras figured he were the least likely guy on the team to laugh at him.

"If I can."

Roban led them into the sitting room, studying Maras on the way. He didn't look serious, vicious, or grim, his three usual responses to upsets. He just looked kind of edgy and uncomfortable.

"Want a beer?" One thing was certain. This would take a while. Maras might be a great defenseman, but speech was a problem for him.

"Thanks."

Maras looked around the sitting room with approval. Each time they'd been on Gingezel the management had put them in a different hotel. This time it was the Anton Corp. hotel. It were the nicest. The rooms seemed to all be a bit different by what he could see when he went past open doors, and there was some real color. Mostly space stations except Tamara was a lot of beige and brown. But his suite here were real nice, all bright white with lots of hot turquoise and a bit of gold splashed around, and now Roban's were and even nicer, a cool soft white with rich purple and turquoise splashed around.

He took the beer. "You've got a nice suite. Mine's all that turquoise."

Roban nodded. "I've heard Joran's wife worked it all out before she died, and for a long time he wouldn't come here. It made him think of her."

They meditated on that for a bit, but it didn't go anywhere.

"So what can I do for you, Maras?"

Maras reached in his belt pouch and extracted the book pac. "Read this." He thrust it at Roban, who to his intense relief did not say anything derogatory about the pink and flowers.

"All right." Roban sat down and inserted it into his compad. It was some kind of poetry. He became aware of Maras standing over him.

"Look, Maras, I hate to be rude, but I can't read with someone staring at me. Could you either watch holovision with earphones or go get some sun on the balcony?" The day had cleared and turned into one of those spring days borrowed from summer.

Maras hesitated, then shrugged. "Sure." The balcony were best. He stayed inside he'd keep wanting to watch Roban.

***

Roban looked at the book pac in his hand, then at Maras standing on the balcony. For the life of him he couldn't see how Maras got himself into reading poetry. He opened the door.

"Thank you for sharing Maras. It was truly lovely."

There hadn't been many poems, but they were exceptional. The theme of the poems and the illustrations had been the author's garden in all four seasons, and you could really feel like you were there.

"You liked it then?" This was important to Maras. He wanted Roban to like it too, but Roban didn't look like he liked it.

"I just said so. It's beautiful."

"You don't look like you like it," Maras said doggedly.

"No." Roban considered this. "I suppose I don't."

Through the open door on the next balcony he heard Larr say something then Rishic laugh. The card game must still be going on, and Rishic had replaced him.

"Come back in, Maras."

Maras followed him, looking more worried by the minute. And why, Roban wondered, did it matter so much to Maras whether he liked a book of poetry or not?

Maras repeated fatalistically, "You don't like it." He thought the words was real pretty and had really hoped Roban would too. It would make it easier.

"Sit down, Maras!" The man was starting to shift to his grim mode. This was not good. Maybe repetition would help. "I said I like the poems and I do. You can really imagine you're in the garden with – what was the author's name?"

"Cailla." It was the first time Maras had said her name to anyone but Mai, and it felt good.

"Cailla. But what happened Maras, is it got me thinking of home, and the beautiful garden my mother keeps. And that got me wondering what I'm doing here. I mean, first I wreck my wrist and hand, and I'm just really coming back from that and I get myself suspended for the rest of the season. What am I doing here?" he repeated bitterly.

Maras looked at Roban with real concern. He'd never heard him sound like this, even during the worst of his shattered hand. He said with surprising gentleness, "You's here because you's the best inside left-winger in the galaxy. Marti isn't gonna drop your contract just because you're out for the season. They'd be fools to do that.

"But Roban," he added seriously, "if you aren't happy now..." Were that because Daron was gone? "There's no contract what can't be broken." She had taught him that. "You can go to another team." Roban did not look like that helped. "Or home if that's what you want." Roban had to have made good money by now. He didn't live high like some of the guys.

"Can I?"

Roban found his throat was tight. He didn't think he could go home. Then he pulled himself together. Maras had some problem of his own. He didn't need an earful of his.

"I think I'm just homesick, Maras. Doesn't that happen to you?"

Maras thought about it. He thought about the cramped apartment he had shared with his parents, sister, and his three brothers. He thought of all the yelling, and how much work caring for the little ones were while his parents worked. He thought of his parents, nice enough, but worn out and tired even now that he sent credits. He thought about the endless dingy corridors of the mega complex. The tough gang he'd run with and his friends, most in prison. He remembered how everyone snickered at him and made him the butt of jokes because he were slow. He thought about the fact the only thing that had been really good were sports, and now someone was paying him a fortune to do exactly what he loved.

"Nope," Maras said honestly. "I never thought it could be this good."

"Then you're a lucky man." Roban smiled. "So what's the problem, lucky man?"

It was a direct question. If he didn't get it out now, he never would. Maras blurted, "What would you say to her – to Cailla – about the book on a date?"

Roban knew this could not be a hypothetical question, like when he and some of the other guys were watching a holodrama, and an actress caught someone's eye, and that person said, what would she be like to date. You all gave your opinion, but you knew he'd never go to the bother of meeting her.

Maras was totally incapable of being hypothetical. Even in team strategy sessions he never speculated on an opponent doing something new. He focused on how to counter what he'd seen them do already. So it had to mean he had a date set up with this Cailla. But that was too ludicrous.

Roban heard himself saying in an incredulous tone, "You have a date with her?"

"Yup," Maras said solemnly, very pleased with the effect he'd had. "Next time we's on Pendrae."

Roban digested this. He decided he wasn't up to even thinking about how Maras had met her. Instead he concentrated on Maras's question. After a few minutes, Roban shook his head.

"There's no sense my telling you what I'd do, Maras. All you'll do is sit and stare."

Maras looked at Roban with intense disappointment. He had opened up to him, and he deserved better than this. He rose to his feet.

"'Scuse me for wasting your time," he said in his most repressive tone.

Roban looked up at him, exasperated again. "Sit down Maras and quit glowering at me."

Maras didn't budge.

"That was not a put down. You asked for advice, and I'm giving you advice. Suppose I gave you words to say. Like about that one poem about autumn." That was the one that had really hit him hard. "The imagery is perfect – she's sitting there in the warmth surrounded by warm glowing colors, and there is a sudden gust of chill wind and a single leaf falls."

Unlike Maras, Roban had not slept through his literature classes. In fact he had rather enjoyed them and got decent grades. "The cadence supports this too. All of a sudden there's a break and a new harsher one is established. It put me back home, in my mother's garden on a day like that."

Maras slumped back down on the couch, seeing Roban's point and feeling defeated. Roban had already said too many words about just one poem, and he didn't understand half of them. Imagery he could take a guess at, but he'd never heard of a cadence. All he knew was he'd liked that poem.

He said doggedly, "But I got to say something, and that one was real nice. There weren't a whole lot of words." That really appealed to Maras. He didn't like to feel like he was drowning in words. "An' it made me think maybe it would be nice to be in a garden like that."

Roban remembered someone saying Maras was from a mega-complex on Terra. "Yes," he said simply, "it is."

That would be another gulf with this Cailla. Still, Maras was obviously determined, and you had to give him credit for trying. And Maras had instinctively picked up on one thing.

"So instead of me coaching you, Maras," Roban said seriously, "why don't you do what you're good at? Ask her how she writes her poetry. You always like finding out how people do things."

Roban came across Maras deep in conversation with the oddest people. When you went over to ask what was up, he invariably said 'so-and-so here's just telling me how they – whatever.' The mix was eclectic. He had personally been introduced to a gray-haired man trying to eliminate a rattle in a ventilation duct, a man from room service, an intense young woman responsible for packaging spluttered spheres intended for who knew what from a zero gravity factory, and a team of cleaning women who did the walls of the Octagla court on some planet he couldn't remember offhand. And in all of these cases Maras had obviously been fascinated and the people in turn flattered.

"I suppose I could," Maras said dubiously.

It was clear Maras was thinking that there couldn't be more to poetry than dictating to your compad. He'd better help him out.

"You noticed it yourself, Maras, she has a rare economy with words. It has to take her hours and hours of thinking to get rid of the extra ones and still get the sound she wants."

"Oh." Maras's face brightened with enlightenment. He had assumed poetry were all the same. "You mean she really has to work at it, like a good back pass."

"That's right." Roban was starting to think he'd like to sit in on this date.

"I could do that," Maras decided contentedly, and he filed away the phrase 'rare economy of words', hoping he'd remember it. "And then we'll talk Octagla, and it will be just fine."

Maras was wearing the pleased with life expression he doled out very sparingly, and Roban really hated to ruin things, but this date had enough of the makings of a total disaster without that mistake.

"Maras," he said keeping his voice carefully neutral, "not all women like to talk Octagla."

"Cailla will."

"But Maras, I really think you ought to be a little careful, I mean she's a poet – an artsy type." He adopted a phrasing Maras would use.

Very slowly the light broke on Maras, and he was mildly embarrassed. "Sorry Roban, I was kind of nervous when I got here. I forgot to say. She's the first string outer right winger for Pendrae Nebula."

Roban stared. Maras was not usually the type to set you up then laugh, but when he did, he did it well. He said bluntly, "Maras, are you trying to see how gullible I am?"

"No. Honest. Want to see her play?" He'd hoped Roban would, and he'd brought the memory pac.

***

This were real good, Maras thought contentedly. He was sprawled over the majority of Roban's couch eating a jar of mixed nuts. He'd watched the montage Mai had made of Cailla playing so many times on his own he'd pretty well memorized it, and he'd added few bits on his own he'd found on the web after Mai left, but it were different sharing it with Roban. Roban had liked all the right parts and agreed she could really play. Roban thought she were real pretty too.

Actually, that last wasn't quite accurate. Blondes didn't do a thing for Roban, and he liked white blondes the least. But Maras obviously found the woman very attractive, and Roban had to admit that if you liked the type she was attractive. So he'd seen no reason to dampen Maras's enthusiasm. And he'd been progressively more impressed as he watched her play. Maras had done very well for himself. Surprisingly well in fact. It was a bit less of a mystery once you understood the Octagla part.

"So, how did you meet Cailla?" Roban asked once they were finished. "At the Octagla court on Pendrae?" It was the sort of setting Maras would be relaxed in.

Maras felt obliged to be straight about this, what with Roban being so good about everything. "Nope. I haven't met her yet. We're getting together on Pendrae."

"But -" Roban stopped, confused. He supposed a dating service could have made the match if it had a big enough client base, but given the number of guys really taken with blondes, why would she use a service?

"She's a friend of Mai's you see," Maras elaborated. "They played pro together."

And Mai somehow decided her friend needed Maras in her life? Well, with Mai it was possible.

Maras was watching the confusion and the unasked questions on Roban's face, and all of a sudden he got uncomfortable. Pretty soon Roban would ask something, and Mai's matchmaking would come out and he'd look dumb. Maras put the nuts down abruptly.

"You've been real good, Roban, but I gotta go."

Ten seconds ago Maras had been settled in for the night, now he was on the way to the door. Roban had a flash of inspiration. It was the other way around. Mai didn't decide to help. Maras asked Mai to help. He did not find it funny like Daron would have. If anything he felt sorry for Maras, and sorry that by being clumsy he'd ruined the man's obvious pleasure.

Roban said carefully, "Look Maras, you don't have to say, or explain a thing about Cailla. That's your private business."

It obviously wasn't working. If anything Maras looked more upset. Suddenly Roban realized he didn't want him to leave. This last hour or so was the closest anyone had come to really being friendly other than Daron, and he was in the hospital. He hesitated. Hell, Maras was the one guy who wouldn't talk or laugh. He kept totally to himself. Roban took the risk.

"Look at me. I've been engaged for a year and a half now, and no one on the team knows."

Maras blinked, then a slow smile spread across his face as he relaxed. "You want to get married too, Roban?" He'd found a friend who understood.

"Very much." Roban was amazed at how good it felt to say that to someone who understood.

The year and a half engagement sounded smart, Maras decided. Marriage were a big decision, not something to rush into.

"How come you never told us, Roban? We'd have all been happy for you.

"Daron," Roban said succinctly.

"Smart move."

Daron wouldn't think nothin' about scoring off his friend. Then, after a pause, "I shouldn't say anything right? I mean in case it got back to him?" Maras did not consider a hospitalized Daron harmless. "And you won't tell him about Cailla? Deal?"

"Deal," Roban agreed, although he personally did think Daron was at least temporarily out of commission. But privacy had become a habit.

"You got a hologram I could see? If you don't mind that is." Maras added remembering his manners.

Roban found he was suddenly shy. Juliemnal, after all, wasn't glamorous. He loved her, had as far back as he could remember, but he wasn't sure how she'd seem to a stranger. Still, he was trying to make amends so he got some out.

The reluctance went right past Maras. He was focused totally on what this new person might be like, and he approved of what he saw. He had privately been worried Roban might have fallen for one of the girls he'd met with Daron. That would be real bad. Them were not nice girls. But he saw a slightly built young woman looking painfully shy and obviously very uncomfortable with having her hologram taken. She had shoulder length fine brown hair, a plain pale face, and dark eyes. She looked a little prettier in a later image, a casual one with both her and Roban. In this one she had a rather sweet smile, and by the way she was looking at Roban, she obviously adored him.

"Roban, she looks real nice."

Roban gave Maras a sharp look, but he seemed totally sincere. He was seated again, staring intently at the image. Roban relaxed.

"She is."

"What's her name?" Maras prompted, then added, "you know her long?" Roban had said they were engaged a while.

"All my life. Juliemnal – that's her name – lived in the nearest town to our farm. We went to school together. Now she's a receptionist at a clinic in a nearby city."

Maras, who had been listening to all of this with approval, turned to Roban. "She's real smart then? My kid sister wants a nice job like that where she can wear pretty clothes and sit at a desk. Our Ma wears coveralls and comes home with sore feet from a day at the factory." He added realistically, "it won't happen. She's a good kid and a hard worker, but she don't get good grades."

He returned his attention to the image of Juliemnal. "You done real good for yourself, Roban."

No wonder Roban were homesick. It were too bad Kytherial didn't have a team in the galactic league and Roban could see his girl when they played there.

*****

Chapter 7

Maras dumped the last of the jar of nuts into his palm and looked at Roban. "So, what do you want to do now?"

Maras had reclaimed the sofa and was obviously settled in for the rest of the day and probably the night, and Roban hated to be a spoilsport. He thought for a bit then said, "I've already agreed to go out for supper. Trevarr decided I'm worrying too much about Daron and Wayd is working too hard, so he booked a closed in yacht from Rori and said we should all have early supper out on the lake. Why don't you come too?"

Maras looked out on the bay. The day were real nice, and the night would be too. He shook his head regretfully. "Sorry Roban. Can't. We'll do something another time."

This was surprisingly tactful for Maras. "Really, Trevarr and Wayd won't mind."

"Trevarr don't like me."

"Maras, that's ridiculous." Roban thought about the personable athletic blond that ran the Sports Medicine Clinic. "Trevarr likes everybody."

"Not me. Not after the trouble I were with my leg." Maras shrugged. "I mean, I didn't think I were trouble or nothin'. I were just trying to get back on the court fast. But I was doin' it all wrong." He grinned. "You should've heard him." The smile faded. "Only I think he weren't just mad, he meant it. He were really pissed."

Roban did not say this was a year ago. Maras had the memory of the proverbial elephant, especially on slights. Instead he said, "You can't have been more trouble than I was."

Maras gave him a skeptical look. Roban tried too hard to be nice to everyone. He popped the nuts in his mouth and dusted his hand on the sofa, preparing to leave.

"I mean it," Roban persisted. "I mean, it turned out all right but that's only because of Trevarr. I was choked, afraid my hand would never work again. Then one day we were in one of the private rooms, and he was trying to teach me a new exercise that hurt and I wouldn't do it." Roban suddenly smiled. "Maybe he'd had a session with you first, I don't know. But all of a sudden after the fifth or sixth non-try on my part, Trevarr stood up and said he was putting his hands in his pockets, and leaving because if he stayed he was going to pick me up and slam me into the wall so hard I really would need physio. He's strong enough to do it too."

Maras nodded agreement.

"Then he said he knew he was being unprofessional, but for a stupid masochistic son-of-a-bitch who chose to play Octagla I was the worst coward he'd ever met, and he was going to run off his temper, and if I hadn't mastered the exercise by the time he came back, he'd slam me into the wall anyway and I could sue him."

Maras chuckled. "Trevarr really said that?"

Roban nodded. "I believed him too. I did some serious thinking, that it was really stupid to be afraid of a simple exercise when all I wanted to do was get back in an Octagla court, and I risked serious injury daily there. So, I had it right by the time he got back." He looked at Maras. "You can't have been worse than that!"

"No. Just different." Maras thought about it. It sure did look pretty on the lake. "Okay. Call him. But be up front that I don't mind if I'm not invited. I'll go use the can so I don't hear."

***

"Trevarr says to be at Rori's marina at 5:30," Roban announced as Maras reemerged. "So what do you want to do? Watch something or get a drink at a café on the harbor?"

"I got some shopping to do before I leave. I want to get Kimi a present."

"You really like her, don't you?"

"Don't you?"

"Sure, we all do. She's cute. But you're the only one she's taken to."

"You think so?" Maras preened "Well, I like kids."

"Can I come along? It's been ages since I had an excuse to be in a toy store."

"You can come, but I weren't going to the toy store. I'm going to that pet store."

Oh oh. "Maras. Mai will kill you! She has enough on her hands with three kids."

"Roban. I weren't going to buy nothing that would pee on the carpet!" That had always been his overworked mother's reason for no pets. He'd really wanted a dog, but it was an argument there had been no way to counter. "I thought fish. When Kimi's playing in the lake, she's always thinkin' she sees fish and tries to catch them. Mostly she chases shadows though."

***

"I'll be right with you," Spenku called from the back of the shop where he was discussing a new pet food with his supplier. He broke the call and hurried forward, then stopped in surprise.

"Maras, Roban. I assume you are just looking?" Tourists did. He prided himself on his selection of animals.

"Nope," Maras corrected him. "I'm going to get a present for Kimi, and you can take it to her on your way home."

"Well, that's nice of you, I'm sure." Spenku lived just down the block from Mai, and she would kill him for complicating her life. Maras would no doubt want a big noisy dog like a Laurion arwolf.

At the man's look of panic Roban added, "A tank of fish is what we're thinking of." He would get a few for Meku so she didn't feel slighted.

"Nothin' that'll pee on the carpet," Maras confirmed "Mai got that new carpet in the living room."

Well Kimi did like fish. He's had to replace a fish every month or so in Mai's pond until Kimi learned they could only breath in water. Feeling slightly, but only slightly happier Spenku repeated, "Well, that's very nice of you, I'm sure. Do you know what you want?"

Maras shook his head. "Don't know nothin' about fish."

"And all I know is food fish - my brother has a fish farm."

"Well, why don't you just look around a bit first?" Spenku led them to a long row of tanks. "If you see something you like, just touch this contact on the tank with the fish's picture. That will give you all the information there." He pointed at a holovision screen above the aisle and touched a picture at random. An image showed of the fish then a description started of its planet of origin, its history and habits, food requirements, etc.

"That's real good," Maras said approvingly. He could do it at his own speed.

"Great." Roban's echo was a little flat. Maras would work methodically from one end to the other, finding the fish that matched each contact, and watching the description, probably a couple times. Oh well, at least Mai was safe. He'd still be working through learning about each fish when the shop closed, and the team left too early in the morning for him to come back.

That was exactly what Maras intended to do, but a school of brilliant lemon yellow fish in the aquarium third from the far end on the left caught his eye. He went to investigate. They was about the size of the circle he could make with his thumb and forefinger, with long swishy tails.

"Hey, Roban! Come look at these. Bet Kimi would like them." Maras pressed the contact, then turned to watch the description. "Where's Wysteral?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of it."

"Must not have good Octagla teams." Maras dismissed Wysteral as useless except for pretty fish and returned his attention to the holovision. "They're making a big deal these is from a tropical ocean. That matter or they just running up the price?"

He'd better keep this real simple. "There are fish that live in salt water, and fish that live in fresh water. Same temperature water is important too."

"Can't mix them up?"

"No." Actually some did survive in both, but Roban had no intentions of introducing that complication.

"So if I want them yellow ones I want tropical salt guys." Maras surveyed the tanks. "All the tanks down here got the same color buttons. I bet they're all tropical salt." He pressed a few contacts at random confirming his guess. That were really good. There weren't so much to look at. Maras walked to the end to start his methodical survey. The first tank held nothing that caught his eye, but the second tank had some long skinny blue fish that could really move it. He listened to the description, couldn't find nothing bad in it, and squatted down for a really good look.

After a couple minutes Roban asked, "What are you doing?"

"Picking out the ones I want, only these guys move so fast it's hard to tell them apart."

We're selecting individual fish. Okay. "Right. Sorry I asked." Roban came to help. After a moment he said, "The length of that black stripe seems to vary."

"Yup. An the one really fast guy - there he goes behind that plant - he's got a spot at the end of his stripe. But it says the females have the purple back. An' I were trying to see if he had a special lady 'cause I'd hate to bust them up. Oh well." Maras straightened and shrugged. "Spenku will know and can catch her."

Roban sincerely doubted this but he kept his mouth shut.

Maras was about to move on to the next tank when a motion in the back corner caught his eye. A small fish, smaller than his little fingernail was tugging at a large leaf making the whole plant shake. Maras grinned. "Look at it that little guy, the plain gray one back there. What do you think he's doing?"

"Exercises?" Roban hazarded. "He can't really expect to pull that leaf loose."

One of the much larger blue striped fish came to investigate the commotion. The little fish immediately let go of the leaf, turned, and drove the larger fish off. He then returned to tugging at the leaf.

"Chippy little bugger," Maras observed with a chuckle. "Determined too. Just like a center." Then he realized what he'd just said and looked at Roban for possible pain. "Sorry."

"Why?" Roban asked. "Just because I'm worried about Daron doesn't mean I will never mention centers. You going to get that one for Kimi? It will be easy to find again. Someone took a chunk out of its tail."

"Fighter," Maras agreed approvingly. They moved on to the next tank.

After a minute or two Roban said, "I'm going to leave you to it and go check out the birds. I used to like watching them on the farm."

***

"Roban?" He weren't in the birds. Were some real pretty ones though. Bright colors.

"Down here."

Maras went in search of the voice. He found Roban sitting in a chair, a lump of red brown fur in his lap. As he got closer it resolved itself into a puppy. Maras looked around. There were a whole basket of puppies. Delighted, he picked one up. It let out a yelp of protest.

The yelp was answered by a bark and the scrabble of claws.

"Maras, put it back!" Roban said urgently as he deposited his own in the basket.

"Why?" Maras was looking intently at the little creature. He'd only held a puppy once before. That had been in school when they went to a petting zoo.

"Because –" Roban broke off as the bitch rounded the corner full speed and growling. She was a good-sized Laurion red frosted setter, well exercised, strong, and furious. "Stay!" He put all the authority he could into the command.

"Sit!" came from Spenku as he rounded the corner two steps behind the dog.

The bitch sat, but the growls continued and she was trembling. The pup whined and she half rose.

Spenku grabbed her collar. "Sit, Larchail!" The bitch ignored him, growling. He tightened his grip.

"Maras. I mean it." Roban kept his voice low. "Put the puppy back! She thinks you're hurting it."

Reluctantly Maras obeyed.

The growls did not subside.

"I'll lock her in the back. I'm sorry Maras, she's never been like this before."

"You gonna lock her up for being a good mama?" Maras glared at Spenku.

"He's going to lock her up so you don't get bit!"

"But I weren't hurting the puppy. She can see it's fine now. She'll calm down."

"I doubt it." Roban was watching the dog. It was trembling.

"You know animals, Roban. What do I do to tell her it's fine."

"Real bad idea."

Maras turned his glare on Roban.

Roban shrugged. "It's your hand." If this went wrong, Isley would have another injury. He studied Maras. No, the man was not changing his mind. He bit his lip, thinking.

"Well, your size could be part of it. If you are set on getting bit, try crouching down and talking to her. And hold your hand out like this for her to smell." Roban showed him a nonthreatening gesture but made no attempt to approach the bitch. "And if you get bit, don't sue Spenku. And I'm warning you, Isley will be furious."

"Be fine," Maras assured him, crouching down near the dog. She'd stopped growling and were just watching him nervous like. "I'm real sorry I scared you, Larchail. Didn't mean to. You got nice puppies and I wouldn't hurt none of them."

He studied the trembling dog, sincerely wondering now that he were close if Roban were right and she'd bite, and if it would really rip up his hand like on holovision. But she couldn't get locked up on account of him. He'd hated being locked up.

Cautiously Maras held out his hand. "Roban says I should see if you want to bite me for scaring you."

The bitch look at him questioningly, then cautiously sniffed the massive hand, sniffed again, then took a tentative lick. Then another.

Spenku let go, hiding a sigh of relief.

"You must taste good," Roban said. Probably it was the salt from the nuts.

Maras gave Larchail a pat, then straightened. He watched as she went to the basket, carefully checking each pup.

"So how did you fare with the fish?" Spenku asked without much hope.

"Got every one I wanted picked out."

"Maras picked out individual fish," Roban said with a note of apology in his voice.

"Actually, that's quite common," Spenku reassured him. Good reflexes were just part of the job.

***

They were just finished paying when Larchail appeared. She leaned on Maras's legs, waiting to be petted. He stroked the silky head and ruffled her red fur, then made one of his rare impulse decisions.

"I'll buy her – and the pups too." They needed a mama.

Spenku's shopkeeper aplomb deserted him.

"For Kimi?" He simply could not show up at Mai's with Larchail and a basket of pups.

"Nope. For me. Always wanted a dog and she's nice."

It was Roban's turn to be alarmed. Isley had received all the shocks he could handle. A big Laurion setter with a basket of pups needing constant care?

"Maras. She's an outdoor dog. Not for space stations."

Maras's face fell. "She wouldn't like it?"

"Not a chance," Roban said firmly.

Maras's scowl returned. He looked at Larchail, and stroked her. She turned her face to lick him again. Roban might be smart, but he didn't know everything. He were getting an expert opinion.

"Spenku, is Roban right?"

Spenku was much less inclined to wipe the smile off Maras's face than his teammate was. He hedged. "There are breeds that would be a lot happier."

Maras thought about that. "You send me a list of dogs that likes space." He turned back to Roban, beaming smile back in place. "It could kind of be our team mascot."

*****

Chapter 8

"Hidi!" Daron's smile was delighted. "I hope you're feeling suitably guilty for neglecting me."

Hidi was looking lovely, glamorous as always. Her face, framed by her golden mane of hair, was made up in her signature bronze tones. For once though she was wearing trousers, not her usual short skirt. Daron studied the change. They looked just as good. So did the wine colored gold embroidered casual t shirt, not her usual silk blouse.

He hadn't seen her for the two days since the Celebrity game, and had concluded Hidi and someone were having a prolonged celebration. To his amusement, guilty was exactly what she looked as she crossed the room to his bed and bent to kiss him. The kiss he got was the tenderest, sweetest kiss he'd ever received from Hidi, and it had goodbye written all over it. Daron watched her while she straightened up, not sure how to take that, then his smile was back.

"Hidi! I don't believe it. Someone finally got through those defenses of yours and you're in love!" He was sure of it.

"Is it that obvious?" Hidi didn't know whether to be relieved or mortified.

"Yes," Daron said simply.

Hidi sat on the edge of the bed and looked out the window, not at Daron. "Do you mind terribly?"

"Hidi, cancel the guilt trip before it's contagious. Let's be realistic. We're great friends. We're great in bed. But I've never loved you, and you've never loved me. I don't know why, but we know that's the way it is." Daron picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. "So I'm delighted for you. And," he let the hand go, "I'm terribly curious. Who is it?"

Hidi simply couldn't bring herself to answer. She didn't know if Daron really didn't mind, or was just being sweet. He could be at the most surprising times.

Daron was watching her profile and the strain on her face. His smile faded. "Hidi, it isn't the bad news guy who has been stringing you along?"

Hidi couldn't have spent two days together with him. Vance Grelann couldn't be on Gingezel? No one had said... Then Daron thought of Ranga down the hall and Ghen's sudden attack on his son. Shit! Please say no, Hidi. Please! He felt the panic and tremors again. Then sense asserted itself. Vance would no more get a passport to come to Gingezel than his own father would.

The sharpness of the tone brought Hidi around to face him. "No. He's history and good riddance."

Then the implication of what Daron said hit her and the lovely blue gray eyes narrowed with anger. "You've been snooping on me! What gives you that right?"

"Easy, Hidi. I haven't. Honest." Daron waved a placating hand. "Since snooping on me would keep you full-time busy, I've obviously no right to snoop on you. But my family keeps tabs on anyone I get close to. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."

"Yes." Hidi sighed. "I suppose it is."

She also suspected that his family would keep Daron from ever letting himself get really close to anyone. She was still reluctant to answer though, with Daron laying there vulnerable like that and now trembling. In love or not, she was as close to that state as he was likely to ever get.

Daron was watching her unusual reserve. If it wasn't Vance, then why would she be stalling? Inspiration struck.

"It's one of the team, isn't it?" He couldn't see why that would bother Hidi, but it might his teammate, depending on who it was. She didn't answer, but she didn't deny it either.

"Look Hidi, just tell me it isn't Red. Because I'll tell you right now, I won't congratulate you or send a wedding present." Daron grinned. "I'll send a sympathy card every anniversary though."

In spite of her embarrassment, Hidi laughed. Daron would too.

"It isn't Red."

That was better.

"You and Larr together again?"

Hidi shook her head.

"Hidi, do you really expect me to work through the whole team? Find your tongue."

Hidi took a deep breath and made herself look at Daron. "It's Luis. We got together after the game and have been together since."

Daron relaxed. "Luis is a good man. Does he feel like you do?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Where is he?"

"In the hall. I told him I wanted a few minutes alone with you." She started to slide off the edge of the bed to get him, but Daron's hand on her wrist stopped her.

He raised his voice. "Hey Luis, quit eavesdropping and come in!"

"Yo!"

A moment later the door was filled by Big Luis, Tamara's right defenseman. Daron returned the smile on his latino face, then studied his brown eyes. He was as much in love as Hidi. Luis would be good to Hidi. Daron finished relaxing, but the damned tremors did not subside.

"Sorry we haven't been to visit you, but we spent the last two days sailing. When I wasn't in the court." Isley had kept up practices.

"Oh ho. So you've found your dream girl?"

"You'd better believe it." Luis's smile broadened, if that was possible.

Hidi looked from one to the other. "Dream girl?"

It was Daron who answered after giving Luis a chance. "Luis has a dream. When he gets tired of Octagla, he wants to find the perfect girl, and take her to his water world, and spend a couple years just sailing, partying, and making love on the beach, blowing all his money. Then they'll settle down to the family hard work scene." He looked at Hidi curiously. "Didn't he tell you?"

She shook her head.

Daron transferred his gaze to Luis. "How come?"

Luis spoke to Hidi, not Daron. "I was afraid to tell you, Hidi. You're so serious about your career, and I respect that. That dream would destroy it. I figured I could settle for the odd holiday like the one we just had. It doesn't matter as long as we're together."

This time Hidi did slide off the bed and went to touch Luis's cheek.

"So try negotiating. By the time you retire, I'll probably be tired of all the infighting that goes with celebrity reporting. I'd be ready for a break. Then I could start what I want as the second phase of my career anyway, to do in-depth biographies."

The kiss that got her from Luis had Daron changing his mind. He watched her slowly relax into it, reach up to tangle her fingers in Luis's brown hair. It was Hidi who felt guilty. Luis certainly didn't.

When they came up for air he asked, "So are you officially engaged?"

Luis shook his head. "Hidi wouldn't let me ask until she'd seen you."

"Just for curiosity's sake, what would you have done if I'd cut up, and been heartbroken, whatever?"

"Got engaged anyways and felt guilty."

"Luis!"

Both men laughed at her.

*****

Chapter 9

That were a good supper. Maras belched contentedly as he walked down the ramp.

"Thanks, Rori." Roban shook his host's hand. "It's been perfect." He waved towards the last gleam of sunset. "The lake is beautiful on a night like this."

"And thank you and Maras for the fish."

Roban winced. "Mai called?"

"Mai called."

"Is she out to kill us?"

"I wouldn't quite phrase it that way. By the time you've been away for a few days she'll have calmed down. Kimi is already naming them."

"Should I be apologizing to you?"

"Nope. I like fish, just like I like water." Rori grinned. "I've just never had the nerve to cross Mai. So when I said thanks, I meant it."

"Then you're welcome. Am I to pass the thanks on to Maras?"

Rori shook his head. "Kimi will want to thank him. I just thought I'd let you how it went."

"Thanks - I think."

"You comin'?" Maras called from where he and Trevarr and Wayd were clustered on the dock.

"Just thanking Rori." Roban joined them and they walked along the marina, almost deserted this early in the season, towards the glowing lights of the hotel strip.

"So, you going to be MVP next time I see you, Maras?" Trevarr asked.

Maras ducked his head. "Maybe. Trying." He were still getting used to the fact Roban were right and Trevarr liked him fine.

"Well, you're showing the right stuff." They were at an intersection. "And this is where we leave you. Good night."

"Good night," Roban echoed and watched them walk away. It was a good night. It had been a good idea, supper on the lake, temporarily compartmentalizing worries. He and Maras started to simply walk, rambling around the hotels and shops.

"Gettin' cold." Maras eventually announced, zipping his jacket tight.

It wasn't even crisp by Roban's standards. "There's the hotel." It was a block and a half away. He checked his time strip. Curfew for Maras prior to the team leaving early in the morning wasn't for half an hour.

"How about a drink in the hotel across from ours?" Both lounges were good, but a new singer had arrived across the road today.

"Sure." Maras was feeling mellow about life.

They cut across the street.

Blinking slightly as they entered the warmth and light, Roban asked, "Is that Hidi and Red?" He squinted, trying to adjust to the chandelier lit room after the night walk. It sure looked like their center from the back, but usually Hidi wouldn't even speak to him.

"Nope. It's that little one what looks like her. The one what Mercan had in the team box."

Curious now, Roban stopped and turned for a better look. "I think Red's trying to pick her up."

"Out of luck," Maras announced with satisfaction. "Here comes Daddy from the dining room."

Roban obediently looked, then froze. His mind jumped back to the drug people in Zloenni's employ that Daron had asked him to watch for on the Pendrae space station. This man looked like Vance Grelann. Actually, he looked like a middle aged, well dressed businessman, blond, with no remarkable features. But Daron had pointed out that he had a way of holding his head slightly to the side, and showed him how that changed his jawline to an unusual shape. The expression was the same too. Icy cold behind a social smile.

"Daron will love this," Roban said, taking out his compad to use as a camera.

Maras chuckled more tolerantly than usual when Daron was mentioned. He wouldn't mind having copies of Red getting run off himself.

Roban watched and recorded the middle-aged blond man politely but firmly telling Red they were leaving. As Red stood there, staring broodily after the man, Roban said hastily, "I'm not up to Red in a bad mood for company. Can we skip the drink?"

"Ain't that cold out," Maras said. He'd warmed up in the lobby. "Let's just go a few hotels down." The bar there were good. It served Terran booze.

***

Roban hadn't heard a note of the excellent jazz, or tasted the Terran cocktail Maras had pronounced as almost as good as his dad mixed. It must have had a kick to it though. Tonight was feeling increasingly unreal, disorienting, frightening. The hotels seemed to loom above them and Roban imagined hostile eyes at the windows.

"So you want some of the images, Maras?" Roban confirmed at Maras's door.

"Yup." They'd be good ones.

"Great. I'll send them. G'night".

"Night".

Alone in his room at last, Roban got out his compad and watched the video he had taken. Daron would have loved seeing Red get put down like that, but there was no way he was sending Daron a video of Vance Grelann. Roban called up the reference image Daron had given him as a check. They matched, and Vance Grelann was the one man he hadn't been able to get more than evasions about from Daron.

Roban turned all the lights off but one changing the brilliant colors of the room to shadows and dark. Then he sat quietly in a high back chair. He needed to remember and the dark might help. Had there been any nuances that might be a clue to what the man was? After about a half hour Roban shook his head in frustration. It was useless. All he could remember was that Daron had said Vance was something about security. Roban hadn't cared or pressed him. All that had mattered then was the fact that Cobyn Gadd was Zloenni's head enforcer. He'd been furious that Daron had not warned him, had just told him to watch out for Cobyn. Then he and Cobyn had run into each other. Now though his mind was asking the questions he should have asked Daron then. Why the evasion? Was Vance Grelann worse news than Cobyn Gadd?

On autopilot Roban selected a few stills showing a sequence of expressions on Red's face and sent them to Maras as promised. Then he got into his pajamas and a hotel robe and went to the balcony door to stare at the cold moonlight on the lake. Oh, Daron. Now what do I do? What have you got me in the middle of?

***

It was hours later when Roban took out his compad and called Gingezel Security. "May I speak to Ralin Huesgar please?"

"Mr. Huesgar is not available. If you can indicate the problem, I will direct you to the right person."

There was the implicit criticism by the middle aged woman that Ralin Heusgar did not take random calls. That was to be expected. It was a Head of Security for the planet.

Roban said, "I am very sorry, but no. Allow me to transmit my full ID." It was one time being an Octagla star might help. "The problem is urgent, sensitive, and personal. If you are breaking every rule in the book to pass on my message, I understand. But what I'll just do is go knock on his door – he lives next door to Mai and Rori. I have had coffee at his place. But at this time of night that will probably get Spenku's dog barking and wake the neighborhood."

Spenku keep an even bigger dog than the bitch in the store. Roban had asked, and Spenku had explained he was training the dog to be a guard dog on an estate up on the escarpment. That should establish him as knowing Ralin, Roban thought as he watched the woman obviously reviewing protocols. Then inspiration struck.

"Or if it makes life easier for you, I can call Joran Lantonnel and get Ralin's number from him. I have Joran's personal number." Joran had given it to him when they were doing strategy on the Celebrity game.

The threat worked.

"Let me give your message to Mr. Huesgar."

***

"Roban." Ralin was an early to bed person and was bleary-eyed from being woken up from a deep sleep. "What's wrong?" Roban was not the type to call for nothing, or to pull rank. He ran a hand through his military cropped blond hair.

"There is a man on Gingezel I believe is a direct and serious threat to Daron and Ranga. His name is Vance Grelann. I do not know his profession, but by the way Daron acted when he warned me about him, my guess is he is more dangerous than Cobyn Gadd. I'm not sure I should have woken you, but we are leaving early in the morning."

That was all Ralin needed to wakeup. More dangerous than Cobyn Gadd? Few men galaxy were more dangerous than Cobyn. "Have you got any images of him?"

*****

Chapter 10

The terse message was waiting for Roban when he woke.

"I will be waiting for you in my office in the Security section of the spaceport. We can talk there. Any guard can direct you."

Blessedly no one was noticing he was abstracted and quiet on the drive to the spaceport. Everyone was nervous in their own way, Roban thought as he looked down the aisle. Even Big Luis had no jokes today. No one wanted the rematch with Pendrae United. Roban thought about how to handle things. If he went into the spaceport directly he should be able to talk to Ralin and not hold up the team.

As they stepped out of the shuttle right winger Rundell asked, "Isn't that Daron's mother?"

Coach Isley looked down to the far end of the sidewalk to where a small slightly built dark haired woman was alternating her attention between a mountain of bags being removed from a trolley and casting anxious glances towards the door. It was Daron's mother, and he knew he really should go talk to her, but he also knew the costs of inattention at this stage of getting the team off planet.

"No!" Isley turned to a porter. "Those, and those only." Only team staff handled the rest. He stroked his blond mustache, moved on to rub his balding head, and turned back to look at Mrs. Soimvell.

"I'll go speak to her," Roban said.

"Oh, would you mind?"

He would mind very much. The more Roban thought about Daron and the family drug connection, the less comfortable he was. He simply could not reconcile the woman who had made her home his home with what he now knew of her. And he had his meeting with Ralin.

"No problem."

Larr had been watching Roban's face. He was still taking Daron's injury hard. "I'll keep you company," he said, and fell into step by Roban.

"Moffgin." No, she didn't look any different now that he knew what she was. Moffgin just looked tired and very worried.

Moffgin looked up, then smiled a tired smile. "Roban, I didn't think our paths would cross. It's good to see you." She held out both hands.

Roban took them, giving them a reassuring squeeze before releasing them.

Her worried eyes searched his. "How is Daron holding up – morale I mean. I don't expect you to speak for the doctors."

Roban tried to think of what he could say that would be encouraging and not a lie. "Well, he had a really proper hospital nurse that he hated, but they got rid of her. His new nurse is a jock so that's okay now. And he had a great time working out strategies for that pickup game. Now half the time when you go to visit him, Torin is there and they are embroidering on various aspects of their careers."

Moffgin relaxed a little. "Well, that is nice of Torin. The fact he had the same kind of accident must help. And you Roban!" She remembered how he went after the defenseman who broke Daron's neck. Her Devon couldn't have done a better job. "The way you took after that man –"

Roban was spared embarrassment by the doors of the terminal opening and Daron's kid sister flying out. Her pale skin was flushed, and she was angry and rumpled. As Roban knew, she was not the type to appreciate being rumpled. Her makeup was perfection, her black hair a sleek cap, her suit the most expensive tailored simplicity and noticeably the worse for travel.

"Really, if that is their idea of civi –"

"Elvira!" Moffgin's tone was warning. "We are guests here so keep your opinions to yourself."

The treatment on a Criminal Class Visa had been a little more than she'd bargained for too, especially the strip search. So she had been expecting trouble from her daughter. But they were on auditory surveillance, and Elvira had to learn to deal with that.

"Now," Moffgrin said sternly, "make sure your cases are all here and we can go."

Larr lost track of the civilities Roban and Mrs. Soimvell were continuing to exchange. He was staring at Elvira. She was perfection. Beautiful, sleek, sophisticated perfection.

Elvira counted the cases, frightened herself when at first she could not see that custom makeup box she adored because a larger bag had flopped over it, found it and took a look around. She dismissed her mother and Roban, scanned the crowd, and realized that a very attractive man was staring at her. She took time to do a little looking herself. Not bad, not bad at all. Striking coloring, black skin with blond hair, and quite a build. Was it Larr? She watched more Octagla than she admitted, and had sat through every minute of the pickup game. Larr had received a lot of coverage, and he was a blond black combo.

It took Larr a moment to realize Elvira had noticed him. Women of this type always looked past, or right through him. Elvira was looking at him. In fact, she seemed to be having a good stare of her own, starting at his feet and working up. He waited, expecting either to be dismissed when she made eye contact, or her to be embarrassed and turn away. But neither happened. She met his eyes with a kind of 'well, well, look who's here' look and a little half smile. He was lost.

"Elvira!" Moffgin's voice was sharp as she repeated her daughter's name.

It was bad enough Daron taking after his father, but it was becoming painfully obvious Elvira had too. The girl felt obliged to chase every attractive male she met, which was quite a few. Moffgin did not bother to look to see who it was this time.

Moffgin was resigned to this family trait. In their almost thirty years of marriage her husband had had eight serious mistresses. The one night stands she neither knew, nor cared about. The serious mistresses were the ones who lasted six months or so, and showed up at society parties in expensive, low-cut dresses, dripping expensive, high fashion jewels. They tended to put possessive hands on her husband's arm, and give her pitying looks meant to imply her tenure was limited. Moffgin in turn pitied them. She knew she would be Mrs. Soimvell until the day she died, because only a wife could not be forced to give planet's evidence against her husband, and she was definitely in the position to give evidence, plenty of evidence.

Besides being her husband's confidante and actually loving Devon, Moffgin was the senior accountant for Soimvell Shipping, and she knew every tortuous track the money they did not legally make took. She was also reasonably confident that Devon loved her as much as he would ever love any woman, and would do everything in his power to prolong her life and keep her one of the healthiest, happiest, best protected women in the galaxy. A believer in insurance though, Moffgin made very sure that the vast majority of the tortuous money routes were undocumented except in her brain. If anything happened to her, it would take them years to sort things out. So as it was, she looked ahead to a long, comfortable life.

"Elvira!" This time Moffgin accompanied her words with a firm pressure to her daughter's arm. "Your manners. Say hello to Roban."

"If it isn't Sidekick."

She gave the nickname such a sting Larr found himself embarrassed for his friend. He managed to take his eyes off Elvira to see what reaction Roban had. But none was visible as Roban stepped forward and gave Elvira a very polite kiss on each cheek.

"Welcome to Gingezel, Little Bitch. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Roban deliberately used the nickname Daron used to get a rise out of her because right now he disliked Elvira a lot more than usual, and usually he couldn't stand her. She was using some minor irritation to be rude to him, and rude to Moffgin who was obviously half sick with worry about Daron. And she had not even asked about her brother. Roban knew Daron was really excited about seeing Elvira, but he suspected Elvira could not care less about her brother and would not have troubled herself with the trip if it had not been to Gingezel.

Elvira flushed, and her eyes flashed, then suddenly she laughed.

"You have been full of surprises lately, Roban." She gave him in assessing look. "Keep it up and I might start to see why Daron likes you."

She looked past him to the man who must be Larr. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Larr. Roban had forgotten him. Now he remembered him, and his addiction to Elvira's type. Well, there was no way out.

"Elvira, this is Larr, our outside left-winger." Maybe that would do it. Elvira hated jocks. By the look in her eyes, he doubted it though.

He turned to Larr. "Larr, this is –"

"Elvira," Elvira cut in. "Little Bitch is my dear brother's nickname for me and it appears to be spreading." She held out her hand, giving Larr a warm smile. "I've made a practice of avoiding my brother's teammates ever since a disastrous blind date, but I think I may have made a mistake."

Terrific. Larr looked prepared to stand there holding Elvira's hand all day. Roban glanced up at the ceiling time strip and got the excuse he needed. "Sorry to interrupt, Larr, but if we don't move it, they'll be holding our flight."

"Go ahead, I'll catch up."

Roban hesitated, then turned to Mrs. Soimvell. "If you'll excuse me?"

He did not wait for an answer. He needed extra time to go to Security and he was in management's bad enough graces for starting that game ending brawl with Pendrae United.

Elvira disengaged her hand. "Off you go too, Larr. I spend my days routing cargo around the galaxy, and I cringe at disrupted schedules." She gave Larr another smile. "Just remember to call – Daron will know how to find me."

"I will."

Larr took off with the distinctive lope of an Octagla player, looking for but not seeing Roban in the crowd.

Elvira watched the retreating form with approval, and started to look around again.

"Elvira," her mother asked with resignation, "could we possibly take a taxi before you find another distraction?"

*****

Chapter 11

"Roban."

Ralin deliberately left the young man standing in front of his desk as he watched him. He was tired from being up all night tracking down just who exactly Vance Grelann was beyond a successful security consultant. His client list, such as he had been able to find, was an interesting mix of those rich, those with celebrity status, those notorious, and those respectable who wanted privacy. There had been remarkably little suspicion Mr. Grelann was not what he was. But when Ralin had put a team together plotting his travel against certain events a definite pattern had emerged.

As the silence stretched Roban found he was uncomfortable under that stare. This Ralin in his security uniform, seated at a rather imposing desk, was different from the man in a t shirt who had served him coffee on a back yard terrace. Somehow there was a military bearing and he radiated authority. Only the fact he looked dead tired and had a trace of stubble made him human. Even his cropped blond hair was perfectly brushed, and there wasn't a wrinkle in his uniform. Roban found himself feeling grubby, and definitely under suspicion.

Apparently he was supposed to break the silence, "Can I ask what you found?"

"After you tell me exactly what your involvement in all this is."

So there was something, and it was not good. Roban had spent a long night sleepless night of his own piecing things together in his mind.

"It started the last time we were playing Pendrae United. Daron was worried about Ranga and drugs, and he asked me to help keep an eye on him. He showed me images of people to watch for including Cobyn Gadd, Zloenni, and Vance Grelann. He was not clear beyond the fact I should tell him if I saw these people."

Roban shifted on his feet, shrugged, aware he was being assessed for his level of involvement in the drug business. "I ran into Cobyn Gadd in the restaurant of the portel the team was staying at, and we essentially tried to stare each other down. That bothered me – so I confronted Daron about what exactly was up and why I was not a stranger to Gadd."

Ralin raised an eyebrow. This was not what he expected. "Sit down. What did Daron say?"

Roban made a face. "That Zloenni probably thought I worked for Devon – Daron's dad – since I helped out with security at one of Joran's parties on Tamara. I thought we were just helping a friend – Bojo. But I gather it was a cash job. At that point I made Daron explain exactly what he meant by it being contract work."

"Did you see money from it?"

"No. Why?" Roban asked quietly.

"I am trying to decide if I have to put you on a Criminal Class Visa from now on. But that is a side issue. I gather you also confronted Daron on who the people were?"

Roban nodded. "He was pretty blunt on most – Zloenni's various henchmen and women. But he really hedged on Vance Grelann."

"Yes." Ralin steepled his hands. He was naturally reticent, but Roban was headed for Pendrae – Zloenni's territory. He needed to know what he was getting into and Ralin would judge Roban to be accidentally involved.

"I haven't proof. I gather no law agency has. But while Vance Grelann is officially a security specialist it looks like he extends his services to be a hired assassin. Daron was probably hedging because it looks like Zloenni and Ghen use Vance equally."

***

Roban hit the door to the departure lounge at a full run, not wanting to keep the team waiting long enough explanations were needed. Only the lounge was not empty. Maras was sitting about one third of the way down, staring down the lounge at him. Roban slowed his pace as Maras stood up.

"I been waiting on you. Coach Isley were feeling real bad that he sent you to talk to Daron's mom. He figured she probably got all upset and started crying all over you." Isley had hustled the team into the spaceport, so Maras had not been able to see what happened. "So I said I'd wait for you here."

"Thanks."

Roban started towards the passage to the spaceship, but Maras didn't budge. He stopped again.

"Only Roban," Maras was worried, "Larr came through here maybe ten minutes ago running like you, an' he said you had a good head start on him. And we both know you's faster than him. So I said something else about Daron must have come up, and he said you'd probably thought of something you forgot to say then doubled back. An' you missed each other in the crowd, and he'd tell Coach Isley."

He looked at Roban significantly. "Were that all right?"

Maras had no particular qualms about lying to cover for one of his mates, but he did not like to have to do it on the spur of the moment. He usually got something wrong. So his basic philosophy, unless he had plenty of time to work it all out, was to simply keep his mouth shut. Still, he was pretty sure the Daron part were right, and the elaboration of doubling back was Larr's, not his.

"Great. Come on Maras!" Roban started walking again.

This time Maras fell in with him and they picked up the pace. "Only," he said firmly, "you didn't double back. I saw where you came from. That door."

It was Roban who froze. "You what?"

"You came out of the door to them fancy lockers," Maras announced placidly as the young black woman at the desk rose.

She had better hurry the two stragglers to their flight. She'd already told flight control they were finally here, then they had stopped to talk like they had all day.

"If you wouldn't mind coming with me?" she said in a pleasant but firm voice with every intention of seeing them right to the spaceship door.

Maras gave her a scowl. "I want to talk to Roban. We both knows the way. You just stay at your desk."

She opened her mouth, took another look at Maras, shrugged, and shut it. There were no unlocked doors on the corridor so they couldn't get lost. She'd done her job.

"That's real good." Maras gave her an approving nod as they went past her into the corridor.

He firmly shut the door, ushered Roban about ten meters along, and stopped. Even with the soundproofing, there was enough flight noise no-one within two meters could hear them, and he couldn't see anyone along the corridor in either direction.

"So you've had law troubles too, Roban?"

Maras didn't expect an answer, beyond the one on Roban's face when he'd told him he'd seen him leaving security.

"Me, I gotta watch my temper. The worst were once when this guy just started on me in dad's bar. Wouldn't quit yapping. So I just belted him a couple times to shut him up. But he ended up in the hospital.

"I think," Maras said meditatively, "what really pissed the judge were It took them a week to patch him up." He was still mildly aggrieved about that. What right did the guy have to get himself in a fight if he busted up so easy?

"Oh."

Roban didn't know what to say. He was still absorbing the fact Maras knew all about that 'room with the fancy lockers'. He had never seen that area, didn't know it existed until today. Ralin had just said it was the fastest route to the flight, and get used to it because he was sorry but his next visit would be on a Criminal Class Visa. That was taking a lot of absorbing too.

"An' Roban, I don't want to know what's going on, so you don't have to say. Daron's no mate of mine. But you and me, if we're going to be mates, I need a straight answer." He looked intently at Roban. "You know that girl's dad what ran Red off?"

"No, Maras. I wasn't even sure if he was a guy Daron showed me an image of until I checked. I've just –"

Roban stopped, horrified he'd almost let slip Ralin's confidences. He was watching Maras. Maras couldn't possibly know Vance was an assassin. Even Ralin wasn't sure... but Maras look so grim... but then... Hell! he couldn't think and they were holding up the flight.

"That's all right then." Maras decided Roban weren't lying. That man weren't an old mate. He gave the white faced Roban a reassuring clout that would have been better for Roban if he'd been braced for it. "Come on!"

Roban gripped his arm.

"Maras! Just what do you know?"

"Nothin'. An' I don't want to know. But I knows trouble when I look at it, even if it's wearing a fancy suit. And the little blonde's father were bad news, real bad news.

"Nice suit though," Maras said meditatively. "I haven't seen a suit cut quite like that before. Useful for him I expect." Maras patted where various weapons would go. "But classy. I wonder who his tailor is."

"Maras!" One of these times Roban was going to wring his thick neck with these digressions. The man just followed the thought that was at the top of his mind at any given moment. "What you know about that man?"

Unlikely to be overheard or not, he weren't touching that one. "Bad news," Maras repeated. Then reluctantly added, "Pro I think," and drew a blunt finger across his throat. "Same type as that guy who were hangin' around Ranga a lot on Pendrae space station, only classy."

Roban, Maras noticed with concern, were looking a smidge green.

"You okay, Roban?"

Didn't look like it. Maras took a fast step closer to support his new friend.

"Bend over, get your head down. Take a couple slow breaths. Maybe you won't be sick." He waited anxiously for a few minutes. "Can you straighten up now?"

"Sorry." Roban was drenched with sweat, but the nausea was past. He took a tentative step. It was no worse than standing still, so he started for the spaceship.

"Look. Roban, I wouldn't lift a finger for Daron. But you and I is mates, an' I think you're in something you can't handle. I know I'm not good at some stuff. But I'm good in an Octagla court. An' I got a couple mates back on Terra who can tell you I'm good in a tight spot." Maras didn't say more. It were something you didn't brag about.

"So if anyone starts crowding you, let me know, okay?"

They walked another ten meters then Maras added philosophically, "About Daron, you're doing the right thing to stand by your mate. You'd a been smarter to ask a few questions before you got close to him, but you didn't. So just take it as it comes." There was no sense tempting trouble by worrying about it in Maras's life view.

"Thanks Maras." Roban was sincere.

However he did not want to even think about Maras in a tight spot. He quite realistically guessed that was one that the law never heard about. And if he tried to imagine the aftermath Maras could cause, he'd be sick again. How the hell had he got himself into this mess? Why wasn't he back home on the farm with nothing more to worry about than what to plant for spring, and what to name his fourth or fifth kid.

Maras moved closer to Roban, placing an arm around his shoulders, partly camaraderie, partly just in case. Roban were a little pale again. But he seemed steady enough on his feet, so Maras moved on to the other thing that was on his mind.

"Say, Roban." He came to a full verbal stop but kept walking.

"Mmm?" Roban asked warily.

"Remember you said Spenku in the pet store would probably tell me to get a toy Cocker's Paniel?" Maras had taken offense of the name 'toy' but Roban had explained that to a dog breeder it meant little. So why not say little?

"Yeah?" This was quite a non sequitur.

"Well, his list were waiting when I got up this morning. And you's right. One were on the list. So while I were waiting for you just now, I looked them up on the hyperweb." He gave Roban's shoulder an affectionate jostle. "You picked a real cute doggie, Roban."

Roban did not think he had picked anything. He gave Maras an alarmed look. "You want to get a Cocker's Paniel? Now?"

Maras nodded. "They's real cute. And one would be nice company. You know, watch holovision with me, that sort of thing."

Roban couldn't help it. He started to laugh. It was partially nerves and when he started, he couldn't stop.

"What's so funny?" Maras wasn't offended. Roban were all strung up. Laughing were good.

Roban pulled himself together.

"Maras, the dog isn't just fun. Space stations are for people. Who knows what rules the various Health and Immigration types have for pets. Then there's talking the portels into letting a pet in the room, having food around –"

Maras's spirits fell. He hadn't thought of any of that.

"– and we both know you wouldn't do that stuff. One of the poor team assistants would get stuck with it. And," Roban was laughing again, "I suddenly had an image of that agent of yours negotiating care of this dog into your contract."

It were one great idea! Roban must be the smartest guy on the team. And odds were She, his agent, could even get away with it. He were having his best season yet. If it all went well, and he worked real hard, he might get that MVP he'd dreamed of for years now. So he had room to negotiate. A slow smile at the thought of the cute little doggie spread across Maras's face. Then his mind slowly moved on to the rest of what Roban said, about imagining 'Her' negotiating the dog. Maras totally avoided those contract sessions, but Roban were right. That one would be worth watching. Roban caught his eye, they both burst out laughing.

***

He should never have sent Roban to talk to Mrs. Soimvell. Isley mentally cursed himself. Roban had been taking Daron's injury too personally without the stress of dealing with her. Then Larr had shown up over ten minutes ago, saying Roban was still tied up. And now he'd been standing here at the door for almost five minutes, ever since the 'cleared to leave' notification had come with the news Roban was finally on his way.

At last the indicator light came on, and the door slid open. "Roban, I'm so –"

Isley stopped short at the sight of Roban and Maras laughing so hard they had to hold each other up. Why had he wasted energy worrying about this idiot! Roban was doing his best to move from one of his best behaved players to the top of the troublemaker list. But this fifteen minutes was the limit! The whole spaceport schedule was messed up now, and he'd hear about it.

"And what's so bloody funny?" Isley demanded of the pair. He focused on Roban. "I thought you were tied up with something about Daron, not goofing off!"

Isley watched as the smile was instantly wiped off Roban's face, to be replaced by a look that could only be described as half sick. The move got him a real glare from Maras, but Isley didn't notice. He was focused on Roban as amplified guilt returned. He reached out to touch Roban's arm.

"Look, Roban, I'm sorry. I should never have left you to cope with Daron's mother. And I'm sorry I snapped now too. But the way you showed up –" He looked from one to the other, mystified again. "What's so funny?"

That brought a gleam of amusement back to Roban's eyes. "Ask Maras."

All right, he'd bite, if only to have Roban looking more normal again. Isley shifted his focus.

"All right Maras, what's funny?"

Maras grinned, shaking his head so the gold hair tubes glinted in the soft light.

"Maras!" Enough was enough. "Tell me, then damned well go strap in so we can finally leave!" Maras never needed coddling.

Maras relaxed. Getting chewed out by the coach had a nice, normal feel to it.

"I were just wondering," he said, still having trouble not laughing, "how the team would take to Her negotiating a toy Cocker's Paniel to travel with me into my contract."

*****

Chapter 12

Daron and Elvira watched their mother's departing back with mutual relief. She'd said she had to get settled into the hotel, then go out to the Kulgalu estate to say hello to Vayla and Ghen.

Elvira waited long enough that her mother's reappearance was unlikely, then asked her brother, "So, how are you really?" She loved him, always had, and it was terrible seeing him like this.

Daron shrugged. He had uncontrollable tremors, and while he now accepted that his daily visitor Torin was real not a halucination, he had flashbacks and episodes of disorientation. He was trying to cooperate with the physio, but self-destructing halfway through wasn't any help. Neither was the look on Knett's or Trevarr's face when that happened.

Elvira nodded in sympathy. That shrug had been a lot more honest than his 'Okay' to their mother.

"I'm sorry that slingshot play didn't work, and you've got a long haul coming."

Daron shrugged again.

Elvira searched for inspiration. She couldn't just go hide in the hotel like Moffgin. Suddenly she grinned.

"I ran into Larr at the spaceport." She shook a mock scolding finger at her brother. "He is very, very interesting. You should have introduced us before."

Daron smiled. It looked like Larr's life had just got more interesting too.

"I told him you'd give him my number – the temp here and my home one. He was kind of in a hurry."

"Sure."

Monosyllables. "So who's the no-neck that showed us in?"

"Knett? He's okay. He's my keeper."

Well, Moffgin had pretty well worn out the Celebrity game as a topic, and they couldn't talk work. Maybe Daron was just tired from their mother and would be better tomorrow.

"I should go stick my head in and see how Ranga's doing."

Daron shook his head. "Not this early today. He's recovering from the second surgery."

Elvira made a face. "What's with it, him and Ghen going at each other like that?"

Daron pointed at his wrist-cuff, and her earrings.

Elvira made another face. "Try harder big brother, or I'll put my foot in it." She waited patiently while Daron thought. It was obviously a painful process.

"I guess this is okay to say. I mean, I told Ralin." And Ralin had said he would personally monitor his recordings, not some flunky. He hoped that meant Elvira's too. At least, he thought he and Ralin had talked. That first day here was a series of disjointed fragments and he had no idea what was real and what was a dream.

"Zloenni has her claws into him – got him in her bed for sure."

Elvira shook her head. "And I thought I taught him some taste in women."

Daron let that pass. "But something big is up. This," he waved at the hospital room, "isn't an accident. I took a dive – she was talking to Ranga, saw me watching, threatened to sic Cobyn on me. Said I'd lost the game. She didn't mean Octagla ..."

Elvira shuddered and reached out to squeeze Daron's hand. No wonder he was doing lousy. But take a dive and do this? She had to think that out.

Maybe he was sharper today than he thought. "Elvira, it wasn't supposed to be this bad. But Jonagar had been told to take me out – he set up the check different."

Elvira looked at Daron through narrowed eyes. "Who told you that?"

"Sabian told Ranga. It was a public instruction to Jonagar in the Pendrae United dressing room."

Those were too many words. Daron slumped back on his pillow but kept his eyes open on his sister.

Who was she madder at? That bitch Zloenni or Jonagar? Well, at least Roban put Jonagar in the hospital. He went up another notch in her estimation.

"Don't worry, you're safe here," she said with an abstracted frown.

"Elvira!" Daron felt the catch in his voice. "Don't tangle yourself up in this."

"Mmm. I'm not stupid, but I do think I'll give that idiot Ranga a piece of my mind when I can see him."

Daron relaxed a little, not totally. He knew his sister too well, and he didn't like the look on her face.

"Look, you're tired. Moffgin was a pain. Rest, and give me a call when you want me back."

***

"Good morning, Ghen. How are your ribs?" Ralin asked politely when Ghen took his call. The man looked like he felt rough, skin sallow, dark eyes more sunken than usual. His long dark hair was a mess, not styled.

"They hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but it's good to be home, out of the clinic," Ghen answered, wondering what was up.

It could be nothing more than a garden question. He and Ralin were both avid gardeners. But the way things were going he wasn't betting on it.

"Well," Ralin's voice hardened, "you'll have plenty of time to enjoy home. You're under house arrest until I've had a chance to talk to Vance Grelann. Then I'll be out to talk to you. I've activated the motion monitoring in your sensor, so even stay out of that garden of yours!"

And how the hell had Ralin put two and two together about Vance? For that matter, what had tipped him off that Vance was in Crescent Bay? Ghen studied Ralin under hooded lids. He knew he was in trouble, but that could wait. They were more important things.

"Would you mind seeing me first? I have some questions I'd like Vance to answer too. And please detain him before you see me. I'm worried about Daron and Ranga.

***

The wind was cold in the barren rock garden. It rushed up escarpment cliffs from the lake still slushy in shaded spots. They had left Vayla, Ghen's wife, in the house and were ostensibly looking for early bulbs.

"You know damned well I should throw you permanently off planet, but first I want to know how Vance is connected to Daron or Ranga."

"How did you pick up on him?" Ghen countered.

"None of your business. It will give me a good idea if you're lying."

"Vance is a sin of omission, not a lie," Ghen said with a trace of a smile. "Your crew never asked me about him." His smile faded. "And thanks to that stupid move I put my son at risk."

"So what do you know?"

Ghen shrugged. "The first time I knew Vance was here was at the Celebrity game. I was watching as Mercan pointed a cute blonde out to Ranga. I think the guys had a pickup in mind. Then I saw her turn and ask someone a question. The man who answered was Vance. That really threw me. I figured Gingezel was a safe zone. So I challenged Ranga about Zloenni and got cracked ribs for my efforts."

"How do you automatically jump to Zloenni?"

"Vance is what his business cards says, a qualified, legitimate security specialist. He very rarely extends his services and it takes pull and money. He could be on holidays. But with his Zloenni connection I didn't trust a holiday. It was too much of a coincidence with Daron in the hospital here. I had intended to run into him early today now that I'm out of the clinic and warn him off touching Daron."

"Simply for interest's sake, how did you intend to phrase that?"

"Tell him I consider Daron a son," Ghen said matter-of-factly. "That would put Daron under my protection, and remind him what happens to whoever touches Ranga."

Ralin had heard versions of the warning Ghen put out about Ranga. He didn't want to know which was true.

"So why am I stopping here first?" Ralin asked.

"In case Vance tries to fly the innocent vacation. Tell him I know about Ranga and Zloenni and I consider him as going after Ranga by just being here. Tell him I might put that aside if he tells you exactly what's going on."

"You don't know then."

Ghen shook his head.

***

Elvira's face was thoughtful as she opened the door to the suite she was sharing with her mother, then she froze.

"I thought you were going to go visit Vayla."

"I was." Moffgin stopped the pacing of the elegant taupe colored drawing room she had been doing for the last half hour. "But I thought I should call first and see if it was convenient." She paused, stroking her cheek with a white knuckle.

"Something is terribly wrong, Elvira, and I don't know what! Vayla said Ghen has been placed under house arrest. He isn't even allowed out into that garden he sends us holograms of." She turned her attention to the lake painting on the wall. "She didn't offer to let me talk to Ghen, and I didn't push. I know he can be... difficult." Moffgrin was picking her words for whoever was monitoring conversations.

"You mean he has a worse temper than Ranga, yells, then goes and sulks," Elvira said bluntly.

"Elvira!" Moffgin touched her monitoring ear stud. The earrings were rather lovely, and she would swear the gemstones were real.

"I think you and I are the only ones in the dark," Elvira said. "At least the way Daron was talking, he wasn't watching his mouth much with the monitors."

"And Daron talked to you, not me?"

"Don't take it wrong." Elvira went and gave her mother a hug. "He just knows your stance, that you don't want to know some aspects of what's going on."

For the first time in her life, Elvira saw her mother's face harden.

"He is my son, Elvira. I'm not blind. He said reassuring words, but Daron can hardly move without tremors. We should be comforting each other – and he gives me half-truths and evasions."

Elvira needed time to think. She stepped to the window, looking down at the largely empty windswept street. A man came out of the hotel across, followed by a security guard. Elvira whipped out her compad, magnifying the view and starting a video as he thanked and tipped the porter then moved to what looked like an official GV, not a taxi. As he approached, another uniformed man, possibly another security guard, got out to let him in.

"Elvira – what –"

"Wait!" Elvira continued her video until they drove off. Then she turned, handing her compad to her mother. "You can judge better than I can, but I think I just saw Vance Grelann get into a police vehicle."

Moffgin silently watched the video, then handed the compad back to Elvira. "I'm calling your father. Then Devon and I are talking to Ghen. He won't avoid Devon."

"There is something you had better know first. Zloenni is in this mess. Ranga's in her bed for sure –"

"Oh no! Poor Ghen!" Moffgin stopped abruptly, looking at her daughter's face. There was more. "What else?"

"Daron doesn't know. All he knows is when he saw Zloenni talking to Ranga, she put Cobyn on him. Daron got scared – took a dive and it went wrong."

There was total silence, then Moffgin walked to the communications center.

"Elvira, you are a dear, and I love you. But this is going to be a private conversation with your father. Please go shopping for an hour."

***

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Vance looked across the desk at the Head of Gingezel Security. His nondescript blond features held no hint of fear or guilt. "My family and I are on holiday."

"Crap," Ralin had heard four or five variations on this. He would try it Ghen's way. "Ghen knows all about Ranga and Zloenni. He considers your being here an act of aggression against Ranga."

Ralin paused, trying to imagine any faltering of the other's mask at that statement. This man was very formidably calm. "He says that he might be willing to overlook that if you tell us exactly what Zloenni sent you here to do." Ralin put his palms on the desk and stood. "Think about it."

***

Vance was thinking, thinking hard. He did not want to cross Zloenni, but that was minor compared to having Ghen after him about Ranga. He knew what was in store for anyone who harmed Ranga. He could always tell Zloenni a truncation of the truth, that Ranga ended up in the hospital before he could talk to him. After all, there wasn't much to the message was there?

He touched the contact.

"Have you reconsidered?" Ralin returned and remain standing, arms crossed, the closed door behind him.

Vance nodded.

"I was asked to relay a message, that's all."

Ralin's eyebrow lowered. "I hear you're expensive. Zloenni hired you and brought your family here just to deliver a message?

Vance nodded.

"The message?"

"Keep your mouth shut." Vance gave Ralin a stony look. "That's it. I have no idea what she was referring to. I didn't want to know.

Keep your mouth shut. About what?

*****

Chapter 13

"Keep your mouth shut about what?" Ghen glared down at his son in his hospital bed, conscious now and resting after his second round of surgery. He was intensely aware of Ralin standing behind him.

Ranga glared back – and kept his mouth shut. What else could he do?

Ghen studied his son as he lay there. His long dark curls were matted, and there was an unusual pallor to his olive skin. There was no luster to the dark eyes so much like his own, and he could tell that the glare cost Ranga all the energy he had. The strong nose, a family trait, look sculpted. His heart wept. Ranga was his life, his link to the woman he had loved, still loved, the woman who had been going to help him change his life, get out of drugs. The woman who had walked out on him and left him with a two year old son.

Then he thought of Daron down the hall, of his talk with Devon. Whatever was going on had better have a justification, because right now Devon was out to personally kill Cobyn and Zloenni. Devon was waiting for facts – if they didn't take too long. Like a few hours. Ghen did not give high odds on Devon being able to kill Zloenni or Cobyn. They would be staying protected in their territory. But he gave one hundred percent odds to his starting one of the biggest drug wars ever.

"Ranga!" There was a warning in Ghen's tone. He could feel his broken ribs start to throb as his muscles tensed.

Ranga turned his face to the wall. He was too tired to stare down his father.

Ghen turned to Ralin.

"Drug him. Beat him. Get the truth out of him."

"It's tricky this close to an anesthetic."

Ghen looked at his sulking son. "Get the truth out of him."

***

"Ghen, how are you holding up?" Ralin asked as two of his guards and his medic guided Ranga up the stairs of the house.

"Surviving." Ghen stared past Ralin to the deepening dusk. "Take him to the atrium."

As the door closed quietly, Ralin said, "We only got part of what we need to know. There is something Ranga has too strong a block about saying and there were limits to what could be done so close to his surgery."

"So what did you learn?"

Ralin shrugged. "He's been sleeping with Zloenni. He's a drug courier sometimes, often to Ennup 10. But he has no idea who does the pickups. He just leaves his suitcase unlocked in the portel. Cobyn Gadd acts as his controller."

Ghen nodded. There were no surprises there, just disappointments. And nothing that put Daron's life at risk. It was the kind of sequence Zloenni would love gloating over, not try to hide.

"I'll see if he'll talk to me," Ghen said. He forced himself to be matter-of-fact, to turn his gaze from the dusk to Ralin. "How is Ranga holding up?"

"We tried slapping him around a bit, but that didn't open his mouth either. And again the recent surgery was a problem. He'll live, but he won't thank either of us for this. Right now mentally his resistance is as low as we can take it, and he's pretty much spaced out. Withdrawal will hit him in a few hours and it will be pure hell. But for now he's as close to docile as he'll ever be."

"Thanks for being honest."

Ralin hesitated. "Look Ghen. Try to sort things out with the kid will you? I'll stop all recording while he's here if you agree to tell me what's up." He didn't like or trust Ghen Kulgalu, but Ralin felt sorry for the kid. Ranga was terrified of something.

***

Ranga looked up at the stars beginning to appear like perfect jewels in the cloudless sky. He was semi-reclined on a lounger in the atrium. His father was sitting in an armchair where they could see each other.

"Drink this." Ghen held out a drink.

"What is it?" Ranga asked suspiciously.

"Fruit juice."

Ranga accepted the glass. He didn't feel all that bad, and that bothered him in a distant sort of way. He should be feeling like shit right now. He took a sip. It tasted peculiar, but it was probably his mouth. There was a silence, he didn't know how long. Then he said, "What did they pump into me anyways?"

"I don't know. Security works with the military somewhere or other on that, not me. Want me to see if Ralin will tell me?"

"It doesn't matter." It was too hard.

"I'd better warn you. You'll hit withdrawal in a few hours. They'll take you back to the clinic for that."

"Yes." A pause. "You know, I kept thinking you didn't mean it. That you'd come back and stop Ralin."

"It wasn't between us. It's about Daron and Devon and what Zloenni is up to."

"Yes." Ranga understood that now. " It would have gone easier if I'd started to believe that faster." A pause that trailed into long silence.

"Ranga."

"Yes?"

"Are you finally going to tell me what the hell you're hiding? You know damned well that if you don't, I'll just wait until you're well recovered from this and your next round of surgery then have Ralin have a better try."

Ghen meditated. "Or have a try myself."

Ranga started to shake, slopping juice on the tile floor.

"I can't!"

"Don't be afraid of Zloenni. I put the word out years ago about you when you were a kid. She'll have her games, but she won't hurt you – much anyway," Ghen amended.

Ranga's chin came up at that.

"I'm not afraid of her or Cobyn."

Ghen studied him. "You've done something more illegal than the drugs?" He didn't want to imagine what. Zloenni had peculiar appetites.

The stars were starting to act very strangely. They were moving. Ranga tried to sip his drink, but the smell was nauseating.

On that wave of nausea he blurted, "She said she'd kill you if I opened my mouth. Then the day after the team gets here a hit man shows up. I should never have come to this house! Even for a minute! Never. She knew somehow. She... she must think I talked to you – is after you."

"Oh Ranga! I'm so sorry."

Ghen put his head in his hands. Ranga was trying to protect him?

"How could I get it so wrong? Why didn't you say – spare yourself this."

Ranga transferred his detached gaze to his father.

"Sorry? I don't understand."

"Ranga, Zloenni would no more kill me than I would her. What would we do then? For the survivor it would be like a one team Octagla league – nothing to do."

For that matter Ghen sincerely doubted Zloenni could kill him if she wanted to – he hadn't lost his survival skills. But she had obviously convinced Ranga she could. And he had to admit Cobyn was even less controllable than Devon. But he could take care of himself – and he had to get this worry out of Ranga's head.

"She hired a hit man," Ranga said stubbornly. He couldn't have been wrong. All this torture couldn't be for nothing.

"Yes, Vance. I've known since the Octagla game. That's why I accused you of messing with Zloenni."

Ghen stared at the stars. "For that matter, I talked to him this afternoon after Ralin did. I thought he was after either you, or Daron. He swore not to both Ralin and I, but I told him on no uncertain terms that was not allowed, just in case it was a lie.

Ranga looked lost.

"Vance and I are old friends. He swears it was just a message delivery. I truly didn't know you were being blackmailed Ranga. I don't think Vance did either."

"I was stupid then?" Ranga felt a stronger tremor go through him.

"No. Naïve maybe, out of your league. But like I said Ranga, you don't have to be afraid."

Now the stars were acting very peculiarly.

"I think I should go to the clinic. Soon."

"Ranga. Tell me. Make it easy."

He really needed to be in a hospital. Hell, what difference did it make?

"She wants me to hack your lab, you know, and get the new formula."

Ghen stared.

"It's sneaker net, Ranga." Someone had to be in the lab. Someone authorized.

And that new formula – it hadn't worked. It created a slave drug. How had Zloenni known, and who was her target? Ralin had to know about this. And those files he'd kept were gone ASAP, as soon as he could get back to Tamara.

"I know. That's why she needs me."

Ranga couldn't hide the tremors. He started to jerk violently.

Ghen rose. "What can I do for you? We'll take you to the clinic."

"Don't go away. I could get mixed up – in my head – get scared ..." It trailed off. He couldn't form thoughts and hold them now.

"I'll arrange to sleep in your room."

Ghen put an arm around Ranga. The kid was shaking like a leaf.

"Anything else?"

It took a real effort.

"Get Elvira for when this is over."

Who he wanted was Dawn, but he couldn't drag her into this. Never.

Ghen hesitated. He wanted Ranga out of the drug life.

Ranga misunderstood his father's hesitation. "It's all right." It was so hard to talk. "I know what she's like."

What could he do? Ghen nodded.

"I'll pick her up when you tell me to."

***

Ranga woke to dim lights, tubes, and the sound of his father snoring. He lay there a bit, then said, "Ghen?"

The snoring stopped.

"Ranga. Do you need help?"

"No. I don't think so..."At least maybe not. Ranga wasn't sure. "If everything was different, what would you be?"

The kid was drifting. "A soccer manager was my dream. There was a time when I was your age I thought I was good enough to play, but I'd have never gone beyond planetary B. But no team would have hired me with the old man's reputation.

"So I took a pharmacy degree so I'd know what was up, and introduced the legitimates."

Ghen would never tell Ranga the truth, that he tried to break free and really be just an ordinary totally legitimate corner store pharmacist, and had been too weak. That had cost Ranga his mother.

"What about you? Computing or artist?"

"How did you know? The art I mean?"

"I didn't violate your privacy, Ranga. One night when you were sixteen or so I couldn't find you for supper so I checked your room. You hadn't picked up. There was one really lovely drawing of a girl. I figured that was where you were, so I didn't call or scan for your chip. You drifted in about 2 AM."

Ranga remembered that night. He didn't know Ghen had missed him though.

"Thanks. It was a good night."

"What happened to her?"

"The usual. The family found out who I was."

There was a long silence. Ranga didn't realize it stretched almost a half hour.

"Ghen. Did you ever want out?"

"I thought about it. I even planned it a few times."

"Grandfather says you're too weak for this business."

"Do you still believe that?"

"No." He was starting to feel weird again. "Why did you stay?"

"The Old Man. He needed someone to keep him at least partly under control. I loved him. I didn't want him imprisoned again."

"He's killed people."

"Do you mean the crap they say he sells, or directly?"

Ghen was acutely aware monitors were reactivated. And he knew this was the kind of drifting Ranga was afraid of.

"On purpose."

To hell with the monitors. Ranga was as close to sensible as he'd ever be. And the Old Man was demented in a private clinic. They said half the time he didn't know where he was. Transfer to a Judiciary prison clinic wouldn't make much difference.

"That's the way the drug game works." Ghen paused. "It isn't too late for you to get out."

But all he got was silence, and finally a snuffling half snore.

*****

Chapter 14

The wall opposite Larr in the lounge on the team's space liner was displaying a sequence of images of Rujjipet, a planet that fascinated him with its ancient water cities. He explored another portion of the planet every time they played there. The holovision screen was set to the sports channel and showing women's sprinting, something he always watched. Chan, Big Luis, and Mercan had a card game going in the far corner. Larr had ignored all these tempting distractions. He was seated, doing nothing in particular unless fantasizing about Elvira was something in particular.

"Larr, can I talk to you?" Roban asked.

He still couldn't get over how much Larr and his father Rall looked alike, although Rall was a bit more slender, a classic winger's build while Larr was solid, a utility player.

"Sure."

Larr waved towards the empty chair beside him.

"Could it be in private?"

Larr hesitated, then shrugged.

"All right."

He got up and they walked down the pseudo gravity of the corridor with its private berths on each side. With space sickness a chronic worry for the team since they worked so hard in the weightless Octagla courts, the pseudo gravity on the space liner was set to reproduce planetary gravity.

Larr's berth was closer to the lounge than Roban's.

"Will this do?"

Roban nodded and they went in.

Larr stretched out on the bed, tucking his feet under the desk he had forgotten to fold up at the foot of the bed. There was the familiar comforting feeling of the mattress conforming to his body. He waved Roban to the high backed chair upholstered in Tamara green. No doubt next year it would be whatever color Marti changed the team uniforms to. The room was small, but subtle curves gave it an illusion of space. Of all the teams he had played with and travelled with as a journeyman, Tamara had the best space liner. Marti was always thinking of something to make life more comfortable for the team. Larr figured she should have been an interior designer, not a fashion designer.

"Make yourself comfortable."

He was in a good mood. He suspected he was about to get a lecture about Elvira, but he didn't care. She and Roban obviously didn't get along, but so what? There wasn't a thing Roban could say that made a bit of difference.

Roban however did not sit down. He turned, closed the door, and locked it. This automatically activated the 'do not disturb' panel outside.

Larr looked at him with increased amusement.

"Well, this had better be good, because the rest of the guys are going to be looking at us and speculating for a couple weeks."

There was an unwritten open-door policy except when sleeping, and even then doors were rarely locked except by couples.

"I want to finish what I have to say." Roban found he was choking.

"You could try starting," Larr suggested. When that didn't work he said, "Want me to help? Elvira is sexually like Daron. I'm not stupid Roban. You saw the way she was coming on to me and I'm a total stranger. I figured, great. I finally hit one of the type I like who isn't running."

Roban wanted to relax.

"Is that all it is, Larr? Nothing potentially serious? Then I'll leave and keep my mouth shut."

Larr hesitated. Roban was upset and it took a lot to upset him.

"I honestly don't know."

"Then I'll help you make up your mind."

"Look Roban, it's obvious you you don't like Elvira, but..."

"It's mutual if you didn't notice."

"All right, you and Elvira don't like each other. But why do I have to hear about it?"

"I have no intentions of telling you why Elvira and I don't get along."

"But..." Confused Larr scratched his head. "What else is there to talk about? What is it with you two, anyways?" He was curious enough now that he did want to hear.

"It's none of your business."

"Right. My business is yours, yours isn't mine. Unlock the door and go watch a holodrama, Roban." Larr was losing his good humor fast.

Roban fidgeted. "It stays here?"

"That depends on what it is." Larr raised the head of his bed so he could get a better look at Roban.

Roban sighed. "All right. I suppose it's funny to anyone but me. You see, I was the disastrous blind date that turned her off jocks. It was about six weeks after they called me up from Kytherial. Daron had befriended me, but I was really disoriented. The pro circuit and the home game sessions on Tamara are about as far from life on Kytherial as you can get. Even at university life there is very simple and I summered on the farm.

"Well, it was a series of home games, and Daron said why didn't we go together for dinner and a show planetside. I forget who he was with, but he said he'd fix me up with his sister, and after the show the foursome could split up. Well," Roban grinned, "even by then I knew what that meant for Daron. I just couldn't figure out how he managed to break so many rules and stay on the team.

"But I figured great. I was lonely, and a girl friend – operative word friend – would be nice. I thought we'd have a nice time as a foursome, I'd see her home, and there'd be one more person I knew.

"Of course, I was dead wrong. As soon as Daron and his girl left, Elvira let it be known she had exactly the same expectations Daron had. She then let me know I should have anticipated this, and made arrangements. I hadn't, and I hadn't.

"I didn't know then how to set a night like that up and not get kicked off the team. For some reason we were all on tight curfew at the time – and I sure didn't want to even try to risk it by obliging Elvira. I dropped to zero in her estimation for being a coward, and that's where I've stayed. As for me, if she'd just get her claws out of me I'd ignore her."

As he expected, Larr was trying not to laugh.

"And now that you know how to bend all the rules, you don't want me moving in on her?" Larr hazarded. "I'd guess there's room for us both."

"Larr!" Roban was appalled. "Believe me, it's nothing to do with that. If she's your type, great, I wish you the best – sort of," he amended, remembering why he was here. "But get it into your head. She is not my type."

"All right." Larr's good humor was restored. "The field is clear. So why are you sitting here with the do-not-disturb sign on?"

He had to quit choking. "It's because of her family, Larr. Do you know anything about them?"

Larr furrowed his brow. "Not really. It's some kind of business. Retail?" he guessed. "Mrs. Soimvell seems nice."

"She is," Roban agreed. Moffgin had gone out of her way to give him a second home. Would he have appreciated it less if he'd known then?

"The business is large-scale import/export. At spaceports you have to have seen liners with the SVL logo on them. That's all Daron's family."

Larr whistled appreciatively. That was more than the ususal planetary rich background. "Nice. No wonder Daron acts like he has nothing to do but spend money. So you figure I'm getting out of my league? You're right there, but for what Elvira and I are thinking, who cares."

"Out of your league, but not that way." How did he say it? "Can I sneak up on this sideways Larr?"

"I suppose anything would help," Larr agreed.

"Ranga. What do you think about his being Ghen's kid? The drugs and such."

"I feel sorry for him. And I think he's doing the right thing getting out of it."

Larr gave an honest answer, but he was uncomfortable. It was a topic he avoided, despite his standing up and telling Ranga he was okay that night in the dressing room.

"If he is," Roban amended. He knew Ranga wasn't.

"You think that's why Ghen went for him? Ranga's setting a little something up on his own? I've been looking back ever since the fight, but I honestly couldn't remember anything."

"Something like that," Roban agreed, but at the moment Ranga wasn't this problem.

"But right now, think of all those drugs. They get from A to B, don't they?" There. He'd said it.

Larr was disbelieving. "SVL shipping? Daron's family? Do you know that for a fact Roban?"

"I don't know anything and we aren't talking," Roban said firmly. "Now, do you want me to finish or do you have more stupid questions?"

"You mean it." Larr's confidence was set back a bit. Then, "Oh well, it doesn't have to have anything to do with Elvira, or Daron for that matter."

"Larr, Elvira is one of their 'special' shipping agents, their best expediter. And Daron..." Roban looked as uncomfortable as he felt. "I suspect Daron works for his dad sometimes."

Larr looked at Roban. "Look Roban, I know he's your friend, but on this one I think you're working yourself up over nothing. Put him in charge of routing something so customs couldn't find or trace it and it wouldn't get past the first guy."

"That could well be true," Roban conceded. "But that's his mom's and Elvira's line. He takes after his dad."

"Please spell it out Roban, or you'll have me thinking I'm dumber than Maras."

"His dad's Ghen's enforcer." Roban looked at Larr. "I really don't want to spell that one out, Larr." By the look on Larr's face, he didn't have to.

"Not funny, Roban."

"No."

They stared at each other.

"How sure are you?" Larr didn't want to believe.

Roban took the plunge. "Reasonably. I didn't understand at the time, but Daron talked me into working for him once. I thought that I was doing Joran and Bojo a favor but apparently it was a cash job for Daron. When there were problems with Ranga our last game on Pendrae, I made Daron spell things out."

Roban took another deep breath and shifted in his seat. "He had me watching for any contact with Zloenni. The contact I saw was a man called Cobyn Gadd. Daron said he was her enforcer, like his dad is Ghen's.

Larr decided to think that out later. "What else do I need to know about Elvira?"

"She and Ranga have an off and on thing."

"Hey!"

Thump, thump.

"What you guys up to?"

It was Mikey, the number two goalie, no, now the number one goalie with Tarell suspended. Larr could imagine the lopsided grin on the kid's face through the closed door.

"You asked for it," Larr said. "Let him in."

Reluctantly Roban complied.

"Hi." Mikey looked in at the normal room disappointment showing on his cute young blond face. "What am I missing?"

"Roban's giving me the lowdown on Daron's sister." Larr grinned. "She's just like him and I've got a hot date when we connect!" He needed a hot date right now.

Roban just stared. Larr was insane.

*****

Chapter 15

"I have to go."

Ghen had waited to see Ranga swallow a few mouthfuls of liquid breakfast.

Ranga raised his eyes, shrugged, and looked back down at his untouched fruit plate.

So the barriers were coming back up. But what else could he do, Ghen asked himself. He had to leave; have a longer talk with Devon, settle him down. Stop the drug war in its tracks. Call his lab and warn certain key people, question a few others he now doubted. Make damned sure only he could access the relevant files, and only by biometrics. His mouth tightened. Then he had to have a little talk with that bitch! And all of this had to happen outside Gingezel space on his Genie, the Pixie Dust. And to do that he had to first convince Ralin to let him get into the Pixie Dust.

Ghen rose, took a step, stopped. His hand swung in a helpless gesture.

"Look, Ranga. I'm sorry all of this happened. It wasn't supposed to go this way – you getting involved in the drug side of things."

Ghen had had a long sleepless night to think. Zloenni's customer was probably someone on Ennup 10. He'd had approaches from various political factors on that police state planet. The money offered was always staggering – assuming you were willing to deal with them and you believed you would get paid. Money had always been a weakness for Zloenni. As to how she had heard about his new formula... well, he would find that out and deal with that person. As for using Ranga to get it, he had a grudging admiration for that creativity. But that was a mistake she would not repeat.

"I'm sorry," Ghen said again, helplessly, futilely. How did you undo a shattered hand, a probably ruined Octagla career, what Ranga had gone through last night?

Ranga turned to the wall, not trusting himself to open his mouth. He had no idea what would come out if he did.

Ghen studied the averted face, gaining nothing.

"Look, at one point you wanted me to get Elvira. Do you still want me to?"

Ranga nodded to the wall.

***

Elvira looked at the identifier with surprise. "Ghen?"

"Ranga would like to see you. Can I pick you up?"

"I thought you were under house arrest."

"It's been downgraded to extremely unpopular."

***

Elvira got in with a bulging carrier bag and an apologetic smile. "I hope it's okay. I was so worried yesterday I was driving Mother crazy. So I went shopping and hit every art supply store in Crescent Bay. Plus I got some sweets he likes."

Ghen studied her face. "You really care about him, don't you? I mean more than as a kid you've always known or a boy toy."

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Ranga is not just a boy toy to me!"

"That's what you told him," Ghen said mildly.

Elvira frowned, then laughed. "I probably did. That last fight got out of hand, and after a certain point I just go for the jugular vein. He has to know that by now."

"I wouldn't count on that, Elvira."

But he still wanted her with him. Elvira blinked eyes that suddenly brimmed with tears.

"Best behavior, I promise."

Best behavior would be true for about ten minutes, Ghen thought. Elvira was simply too mercurial. And that shopping bag jammed with stuff led him back to one of his more uncomfortable trains of thought last night.

"I want you to stay out of this, Elvira."

Elvira made a face. "Daron said the same thing, like I'm stupid or incompetent. Then he wouldn't tell me enough to keep me from messing up."

Yes. Ghen sighed. Not 'I listened to Daron', but 'I'll mess up'. "What do you know?"

"Ranga is mixed up with Zloenni, no doubt sleeping with the bitch." She shook her head. "And that is no reason for Zloenni to sic Cobyn on Daron – or have Daron do more than laugh in her face." She looked down the mostly empty street, watched as two smartly dressed women stepped out of a shop carrying bags like hers.

"And I know that bastard Jonagar was deliberately trying to take Daron out. That's why the damage is so bad." Elvira tossed her head. "Roban saved me some trouble there." She suddenly smiled. "I didn't think I'd ever say anything nice about him."

"What's this about Jonagar – and is it true?" Ghen hadn't heard a word of this.

"Sabian said to Roban that Jonagar was told in front of the rest of Pendrae United to take Daron out for the series. So Daron ended up with more than the mild concussion he'd expected."

"I see." Ghen's voice was ice. "As you say, we owe Roban."

"Now," Elvira turned to look straight at Ghen, "what do you know? Or can you talk with all this recording garbage?"

"Ralin is personally monitoring conversations so we can talk."

Ghen paused. He wanted to say 'you're staying out of this' but it would be a waste of breath and just make Elvira furious.

"I know that Zloenni was blackmailing Ranga to break the sneaker net at my labs, get the new formula."

Elvira stared. She hadn't expected anything like that. She'd guessed couriering.

"Can I ask what the blackmail was?" By the look on Ghen's face, she'd better not push her luck by insisting.

"That if he didn't, or talked, she'd kill me."

Elvira's jaw set. "Bitch! Poor Ranga."

Ghen didn't think he could still smile. "I take it you're not worried about me."

"You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself."

That was one thing you could say about Elvira. Given the facts she tended to call situations right. That was why she was his logistics expediter.

"Listen to me, Elvira. Things are going to be settled, but I doubt as fast as you'd like. I will not start the next drug war – and no doubt Zloenni knows it and is counting on that. But with patience there other ways. Where I've got a problem is that patience isn't your strong suit."

Elvira bit her lip, thinking. In a way Ghen was right. She could make things worse, throw off his timing. Absentmindedly she traced the temporary tattoo on her forearm.

"But what about lucky opportunism? If I'm careful?"

"And what exactly are you thinking?"

"You don't think opportunism. It happens. What I think is that when mom and I leave, I might just tag around after the team."

There was no sense saying don't.

"Elvira, be careful."

*****

Chapter 16

"Hi." Elvira stuck her head in Ranga's door cautiously. Ranga was turned to the wall and totally ignored her.

"You asleep?" She dropped her voice to a whisper. He could have fallen asleep while Ghen was getting her.

"No."

He didn't move. Just kept staring at the wall.

"Oh, just in a bad mood." Elvira stepped in with more confidence. She knew this side of Ranga too well. "Well, I've brought you presents – art supplies and those chocolates you like."

Ranga rolled back at that, and Elvira suspected she was doing a lousy job of hiding her shock. His face had three ugly bruises, one across his mouth. They were the wrong color to be the aftermath of the Octagla game. So that was the 'adverse reaction' yesterday that had kept her from seeing Ranga, and how Ghen got his additional information.

"How could he!" Elvira's eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed.

"It wasn't Ghen," Ranga said with difficulty. "I – I wouldn't talk to them." He turned back to the wall. "I... I kept thinking he would come in and stop them."

Yes, Ranga would. Poor Ranga.

"Oh, Ranga." Elvira moved to perch on the edge of his bed and touched his shoulder.

"Don't." Ranga stiffened and turned back to the wall. He was quite sure sympathy would reduce him to tears.

Elvira understood that syllable. She slipped off the bed and deliberately made a lot of noise with the carrier bag. At last he turned to see what she was up to.

"First, I think these are still your favorite chocolates."

She put a stylish gold box on his table since he was making no move to take it.

"I checked with Knett, you can eat them." She grinned. "He said if you don't like them anymore he'll take them off your hands." She liked the guy's attitude.

"Thanks, Elvira."

Ranga still wasn't moving beyond turning and she wondered if his chest matched his face. That plus his broken hand would make everything awkward.

"Want me to get one for you?"

She was still being too kind. Ranga decided he didn't have the energy to pick a fight and get Elvira back to normal. Maybe with a mouthful she would lay off and not expect him to talk. He simply was not going to cry around her.

"Thanks, cherry."

Elvira opened the box, selected one, and popped the chocolate in Ranga's mouth. Galaxy he looked rough. Blinking hard, Elvira busied herself again in the bag.

"I bought you three nice papers in different sized sketch pads. And I found a new kind of pens with luscious colors."

Elvira momentarily forgot Ranga. "I got myself a set too, and have been playing with them. I think they're more my style than yours, but they're fun! And the ink pen you like had a couple new nib styles, so I got those too."

She put these all on the table too, and rolled it to where it was easier for Ranga to reach. That was better. He was studying the box of colored pens. Then he let them drop.

"What am I going to draw here?" Ranga asked bitterly.

The question was slurred, either from the bruised mouth or the mouthful of candy. Elvira started thinking fast. Ranga was lousy drawing from an image. He needed live.

"Me, no-neck Knett. Now he'd be a challenge. That divine man they say owns the clinic –"

"Forget it, Elvira. He's homosexual."

Elvira shook her head. "Bi. I got quite the once over."

What did it matter to him who she chased? Ranga turned back to the wall.

Elvira came to sit on the bed again.

"Look Ranga, I know you've made an idiot of yourself with Zloenni, but you aren't the first and won't be the last. That woman is poison." She touched his back. "Just concentrate on healing." Then Elvira couldn't resist. "And when you need to fool around in someone's bed, next time pick mine."

Ranga turned at that, gave her a really dirty look, and batted away her hand with his good one. Elvira laughed with sheer relief. He had some spirit left.

"Want to see the sketches I tried last night or should I clear out?"

***

The Pixie Dust was resting at a Lagrange point outside Gingezel jurisdiction, Ralin's Genie beside it but not monitoring transmissions. Ghen placed his call.

"May I help you?"

This time Zloenni's personal secretary was an athletic Oriental. Ghen would guess he was twenty five. Not bad for nerves. Other than a flicker of recognition, there was nothing resembling alarm.

"Tell Zloenni I want to talk to her at this number. It's secure."

Ghen had set up a special account and link for the call. There was no way she was getting one of his private numbers. He'd got hers from Vance. Vance was in a very cooperative mood ever since he'd been given the choice of cooperating or getting the truth drugged and beat out of him like Ranga. Get him talking drugged and who knew what he'd say.

Ghen disconnected and went to his favorite hyperweb garden site. There was no way Zloenni would call him back in less than an hour. That would be a loss of face. He went to the iris section. There was a new breeder on the scene whose yellow flags rivaled Gemma Pendi's. Ghen lost himself in details of soil and light requirements.

It was an hour and twenty minutes later when the call came.

"Ghen," Zloenni purred. "What do I owe this pleasure to?"

Her beautiful green eyes were wary, Ghen decided. They should be. She knew perfectly well why he was calling. And she had dressed for the call in an elegant business suit, wearing the signature emerald green that matched her eyes and set off her mane of red hair. He was wearing a casual shirt, no jacket. So he was starting with the advantage.

"We need to get a few things straight, Zloenni. Get your claws out of Ranga."

"Is the little boy hiding behind daddy?" There was contempt in her eyes.

"Actually, no. The only reason you've controlled him this far is he thought he had to protect me." Ghen made no attempt to hide his scorn at the idea he was afraid of her. "You did a good job too – we had to drug and beat him to get the truth out of him."

Ghen watched as a hand that might have trembled slightly picked up an expensive teacup.

"We, Ghen?"

"Ralin and I. His military drugs are faster and more accurate."

Ghen picked up a beer bottle in turn. Let her sweat for a while. He let the silent stretch uncomfortably, then said matter-of-factly, "Forget about hacking my system, Zloenni. It's sneaker net, and I've set up the security myself. Unlike you, I don't trust computer experts. They can talk, or be bribed, or have their own agendas. You made that mistake with Klarak and we both know you were damned lucky to not end up in prison. No one gets access to the system without me there, so don't bother to move on to someone else."

There might have been a touch of amusement on her lips.

"Are you recommending a night course in computing for me?"

The amusement in Ghen's eyes was real. "Day. Your nights are busy with your secretary." Then his eyes were flat and hard. "I just gave my security staff a review. You need one on the consequences of harming Ranga." Ghen reiterated his threats.

"Since he is sexually of age, his choices are his on that score. But make damned sure Cobyn isn't threatening him or doesn't go after him. I'm holding you responsible for Cobyn."

"Oh, I'm trembling." Her eyes were wide and mocking.

"Can the play acting, Zloenni." Ghen's voice was hard. "And hear this. As of now I'm extending the protection to Daron and Elvira. I doubt Daron will ever be off Gingezel, but don't send someone like Vance again."

"What does Vance have to do with anything?"

"Who do you think gave me your number? He's in a very cooperative mood."

Zloenni didn't quite trust her voice, so she waited.

"Elvira is my main concern. She travels a lot, and I don't want her in, or causing trouble."

Zloenni cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't misestimate her, Zloenni. Daron told us all he took a dive because you threatened to sic Cobyn on him. She's taking his injury hard.

"She's been completely trained by Devon." Ghen looked meditative. "But I'm honestly not sure she has the sense Daron or Devon have. I doubt she's the least bit afraid of Cobyn – or you. If she decides to settle the score..." He let another uncomfortable silence stretch.

"But if she is harmed in any way, I can't be responsible for Devon. Right now he's listening to me that Daron made the choice to take a dive, that Cobyn hadn't roughed him up yet. But touch a hair of Elvira and I back Devon, whatever he decides to do."

Ghen gave himself the satisfaction of seeing her pale skin turn porcelain white, then disconnected before Zloenni found her tongue.

*****

Chapter 17

Maras stared grimly at the camera, giving it the glare he used when it finally got through his head that some nuisance of a sports reporter were going to keep shoving a microphone in his face and repeating a question until he answered it.

"Hello Cailla, this is Maras."

Maras always said who he was when sending messages. He had worked very hard at being one of the most instantly recognizable people in the galaxy and had largely succeeded, but he still assumed people would not know who he was.

"I'm sorry to be calling when you're asleep." It was 3:20 AM her time so that was a reasonable assumption barring terrible insomnia. "But the hyperspace jumps just haven't worked out."

That was a blatant lie. He'd been stalling until the last jump, fearing a face-to-face rejection, and in this window had waited until she was likely to be asleep. There was a long pause while Maras continued to glare at the camera, making sure the next part he'd rehearsed still sounded good in his head.

At last he said, "If you changed your mind, that's okay." In fact, that was what he firmly expected.

"But if you still want go to supper, maybe you'd leave a message at the space station. An' I'll call Mai's cousin. I'm sorry I don't know which portel we're at, so you'll have to just call the comm center and they'll forward it when I get there."

That was another blatant lie, but what if she called sometime when he weren't ready? There was another pause, then a wistful, "It'd be real nice if you come. Goodbye."

It were over. Maras wiped the sweat from his brow and decided he'd earned a beer. While he drank it he might work on that poem he were writing. He were finding it real hard. That didn't surprise him. Anything needing words was tough. What surprised him was he was enjoying it.

The message was waiting for Cailla when she woke to a particularly beautiful morning. There had been ice fog overnight coating everything in her garden with thick hoarfrost. Sometime predawn the fog and clouds had cleared, so she woke to brilliant sun in a diamond coated world. It was a sufficiently cheering sight to tempt Cailla to brave the message before food. She watched it once, the smile on her face expanding, then went and made a mug of cocoa and watched it again. This was definitely going to be one of the most interesting evenings she'd spent in a long time. They were only talking one supper after all.

Breakfast finished, Cailla dressed in a chunky knit turtleneck sweater with horizontal raspberry and pink stripes and combed her hair with more care than usual. She then applied makeup, something she rarely did on a day she was writing, and today she was writing. Halfway through breakfast a poem about the hoarfrost on her evergreen had started in her head. It wasn't one of the easy ones that arrived in her head whole. It would take a lot of patience and coaxing. So she'd call Maras first before she got busy and forgot to.

***

The message was relayed to Maras from the space station's comm center as their ship made the approach to dock. He was expecting one from his agent as well as Cailla, so he looked. Otherwise he would have waited until he got to the portel. The message identifier said 'Cailla: Reservations are already made'. He read that title three times to make sure there was no way he'd got it wrong. Then, a smile on his lips, Maras settled back in his seat.

Red was sitting beside him, and intrigued by the unexpected good mood, looked down at the compad just before Maras put it away. Cailla was definitely a female name. Maras had a date? He tried to remember if he knew any Caillas, but he couldn't come up with one.

"Maras, aren't you going to check the messages?"

"Nope. Not with you snooping."

Maras did not like Red, any more than he'd liked Daron who Red was replacing. Maybe it were just like that with centers, they was a pain. He then proceeded to ignore Red, preferring to remember the footage of Cailla scoring a really neat goal from what looked like an impossibly screened position.

***

Maras was stretched out on one of the few oversized beds available in the space station portel where room was at a premium. He was rewatching Cailla's message without sound this time, so he could focus on looking at her. She looked like a real nice woman, exactly the kind Mai knew he wanted to meet, not Daron's kind. She looked clean and scrubbed, with just a tiny bit of pink on her cheeks and lips. She sure had a lot of hair too, when it wasn't all braided up to go under a helmet. That were nice. Maras liked long hair, and this were a real pretty color, almost white blonde.

A stray thought entered Maras's head. Were that the color of Larr's mom's hair? Is that why he turned out so funny looking, with pale hair and blue eyes and dark skin? The thought was unwelcome, and he dealt with it by simply ignoring it and refocusing on Cailla. He liked the way she dressed too. The sweater was real red and stripy but not flashy or nothing. He tried to look past her to see her place, but he couldn't.

The short message played out, and Maras decided to play it one last time, with sound, then he had to hit the gym. She sounded friendly, not at all nervous.

"Maras, I'm sorry the times didn't work out."

The smile that Maras took as friendly was amusement. Cailla sincerely doubted he'd had to call in the middle of the night at all. The poor man was probably feeling terribly awkward, but Mai had spelled it out a couple times since their first visit to not let on at any cost that she'd slipped up and said Maras was wife hunting, so Cailla couldn't say anything more.

"I'm looking forward to meeting you and having supper."

This had been sincere. She was looking forward to meeting Maras, and suppers at Mai's cousin's were always a treat.

Cailla continued, "I hope you don't mind, but Mai's cousin's restaurant is very popular and heavily booked. So I made a reservation for the night you have off before your two makeup games, for 7:30 local time. I think you'll like the place. It's nice, without being formal – you know – the sort of place you take your brother or sister on their birthday. You'll want to wear a jacket, but you don't have to fuss more than that."

Maras nodded again in appreciation of that information. He wanted to look right, and would have dressed formally just in case an' looked stupid. This sounded nicer though. He didn't look his best dressed formal like for awards.

"The food is good too, and they understand hungry. For that matter," Cailla's smile grew teasing, "you may well run into some of the guys from Pendrae United there. They live in this corner of the city and they like the place. They didn't have a table when I called – I asked – but there were two left and I haven't checked since." Cailla paused, trying to think of what else to say. "Well, I can't think of anything else. If I don't hear from you before, I'll see you at supper. Bye, Maras."

There was one more smile that Maras found enchanting, and she was gone. Yup, it looked like it were going to work out real good.

The only thing that bothered Maras slightly was Cailla's comment that some of the guys from Pendrae United could be there. Maras had no illusions about the upcoming pair of games. They would be hard-fought battles, and it would take a lot of luck for things to not turn into a brawl again. Everyone were still real mad. Still, it weren't like it were a bar and people would be drunk or nothing like that. Uneasy memories of his doing time for fights resulting from less tense situations nudged at him, but Maras reminded himself he didn't fight no more. All the same, Coach Isley might remember too and not let him go down planetside if he knew what were up. He'd have to think up a lie Isley was likely to buy that sounded safe.

*****

Chapter 18

"Hey, Maras!" Larr wiped the sweat from his face and hung the towel around his neck.

Maras frowned down from the treadmill, not wanting to totally lose concentration. His body was going through the familiar motions while his mind tried to come to grips with the practicalities of this date with Cailla. He'd pretty much worked out everything he'd wear right down to socks. Were wearin' his blue suit with the purple pattern what had bits of pink in it. Would look good if she wore that pretty sweater. But he really should get her something pretty, and he were stuck. He'd been stuck since the middle of his upper trunk weights.

"Yeah?"

"You really going to get a dog?"

"Yup."

The more Maras thought about it, the better he liked the idea.

"I were looking. If she wasn't too big, she could go right behind me on the treadmill, like we was walking outside."

Larr grinned at that visual. "She? You getting a bitch then?"

"Puppies," Maras said succinctly, refocusing on his stride. All this talking were putting him off.

"We were in the pet shop at Crescent Bay," Roban said coming up behind Larr. "There was a basket of newborn pups. That's where Maras got the idea." He was regretting mentioning dogs to Larr. Sometimes Larr's teasing had a cutting edge to it.

But Larr just nodded, undraping the towel from his neck and starting to wipe his bare sweaty chest.

"I had a dog when I was a kid. Yappy little thing, but I loved it." He looked up at Maras. "If you breed her a few years from now, maybe I could have a pup."

"Sure."

With his two brothers, his sister, Roban and now Larr that was five pups with homes already. Weren't giving one to his brother Jarad.

***

Flowers. It had to be flowers. Whenever his dad wanted to get on his mom's good side, he brought home flowers for her. And for a really big deal, like his grandparents fiftieth wedding anniversary, he'd get her a corsage. Cailla liked flowers too. That was almost all she wrote about. Maras knew the poems now, so he didn't have to get out the book. He went over them while the masseur pummeled his back.

He did however get out the pac of poetry when he got back to his room, to look at the illustrations with his favorite one. She wrote like this thing called a blue lace lily were really special, but looking at a painting of a distant garden where most of the flowers was blue didn't help at all. And he found about a hundred different ones with that name on the hyperweb.

Reluctantly Maras called the concierge at the portel where he'd booked a room on the assumption he could get Coach Isley to buy into his going planetside this tight to a game.

"Got a good florist nearby?"

"Of course" The man gave him the names of three in the mall adjoining the portel.

Maras researched them on the hyperweb while he had something to eat. He couldn't see any difference at all, so he picked one because he liked the name, Flowers For Love. It sounded like a good omen.

"Flowers For Love. How can I help you?"

The man who took the call was a black, maybe thirty, and looked like he could be a runner like Trevarr. This threw Maras. He'd expected a pretty girl or a sweet old lady with a shop name like that. He fell back on his standard approach.

"I'm Maras. I wanna buy some flowers."

"I recognized you right away." The man smiled. "But I didn't know if it was polite to say so or not. I'm a big fan, but I never thought I'd speak to you." The florist gave a slightly embarrassed smile and touched his hair, a toned down version of Maras's own elaborate braids and gold hair tubes.

He seemed like a regular guy, Maras decided.

"You look like a runner. How come you's selling flowers?"

"I do run, amateur marathons."

Maras gave a satisfied nod.

The man continued, "And as far as flowers goes, I believe you should work at what you like and I like flowers." He smiled and shrugged again. "If I tried to make a living as an athlete, I'd starve. I always finish two hundred sixty fourth or something like that, but I feel good running. Now, what can I do for you?"

"You know what a blue lace lily is? I want a corsage with one, or a couple in it." Maras had no idea of the size of the flowers yet.

"That would be beautiful," the florist said approvingly, "but there are two problems, Maras. The first is that they are one of those plants that simply can't be forced in a greenhouse, and for that matter they don't mass cultivate well either. They are a small garden or woodland plant where they are inter-planted. But they are protected in the wild. So they are not a standard florist flower. The second problem is that it's winter here – snowing in fact."

All that plant stuff Maras didn't get, but he got the basic message.

"You don't have 'em."

"I'm very sorry." The florist watched the deepening frown. "I can recommend a number of very attractive blue flowers, depending on the shade of blue the lady is wearing. There is an exceptionally nice orchid right now, if you'd like to see one."

Maras wanted the blue lace lily. He ignored the orchid.

"You don't have 'em. Can you get them?"

"Let me think." The florist stared across the room at a display of bouquets in soft pink. Everyone was looking for spring shades right now with winter hanging on.

Maras waited patiently, looking at the part of the shop he could see beyond the man. He never hurried thinking.

At last the florist nodded. "Yes, I think I could. There are a number of horticultural societies in the other hemisphere, and one is bound to be having the right weather for the lilies to be blooming now, and they are popular enough odds are I could get one from a private garden. That would be research work and a bit of goodwill."

Maras nodded. Weren't pretty much everything like that?

"The tricky part is getting it here. They wilt quickly once cut. It would take special handling end to end."

Maras persisted. "But you could get someone there who knows this stuff to do it, and courier it?"

Maras had to give the florist credit. He hardly blinked.

"Certainly, sir. How about I prepare a cost estimate and call you back, or more accurately, I have an assistant call you back. Unfortunately I have a wedding couple coming in shortly. By the way, when would you want the corsage?"

"For supper tomorrow – I suppose I can pick it up about 6 PM."

"Right."

You chose a job in a service industry the florist reminded himself, and mentally went over his now nonexistent evening. Fortunately there was only his daughter's art class. He was supposed to chauffeur her to it, so he'd only be owing his wife for the kitchen work she'd have to skip to be chauffeur. He'd have to offer to bake on Monday to make up.

"Now, Maras, just in case I simply can't find a blue lace lily, let me show you that orchid."

Maras had to admit it were a pretty purply blue and all ruffly with some cool spots. For all he knew about flowers, it could've been a blue lace lily, but he knew now it weren't, and he'd decided he wanted one.

"Thanks. Call me back."

***

Maras simply stared. A flower could not possibly cost that much. This time he were talking to a fussy looking middle-aged red haired lady, and she didn't look like she expected him to buy the flower. Maras tried to do some mental arithmetic. He had no idea what the costing model should be, but he assumed since the florist figured he'd say no and go for something else, it probably weren't a ripoff. What he were trying to decide was if he added up every last time his dad had bought his mom flowers it had cost that much. Weren't that many numbers to add.

The assistant manager ventured to speak. "I understood you saw some of those lovely orchids available right now, Mr. –" She hesitated. Somehow Mr. Maras didn't seem grammatically correct.

"Maras," Maras provided automatically.

"Mr. Maras. Shall I get another for you to look at, and perhaps a few others?"

"You do that."

Maras didn't even notice her leave. Nope. There were no way his dad could have ever spent that much. Maras had carefully added up all the usual flower events and thrown in a reasonable number for the times his mom had been real pissed about something or another, and another extra group for when his dad were looking for a good time. Then he multiplied that by what a supermarket flower cost and compared it to the blue lace lily. Nope. No way. Not if they both lived to a hundred and ten.

Maybe, while he were buying flowers he should send some to his mom. The lady were taking a long time, so he meditated on this. Eventually he decided no. It would just scare her. She'd think something were wrong no one was telling her about. He took out his compad and used the calculator to check his mental arithmetic. He'd done it right.

That lady must be going to bring the whole shop for him to look at. Maras's mind drifted to the way Daron spent money on women. He blew the most on his second date with Hidi. She'd been doing some interviews, and they'd had two games with only a single night layover in between. Daron had disappeared right after the first game, and gone planetside. He'd collected Hidi and they'd flown in the jet he'd chartered to some tropical resort where he got them a bungalow with its own garden and beach, and there was a full staff and a yacht at their disposal. They'd spent the next twenty four hours or so having a great time doing pretty much everything they could think of but sleep. Then he'd flown Hidi to her next interview and come back up to the space station.

By the time he got back Daron had missed practice, and all of two curfews. He'd wandered in ninety percent asleep while the team were having breakfast the day of the second game. Daron had been very pleased with himself. Coach Isley had been real pissed at this stunt, but what could he do? They needed the win that night, and he weren't going to get it playing Red. So he couldn't bench Daron. He'd yelled a bit, and Daron had laughed, and he'd fined him good, and Daron had shrugged and made a face, but that were it. Then Isley had looked at him mean and said for Daron to go sleep it off, and when he woke up, call him, and he'd collect Larr, and they'd go out in a practice court and see if Daron were in any shape to play. That finally had got Daron looking nervous. You could see Daron thinking maybe Isley were playing Red.

But Daron had been in shape. He'd been higher than Maras had ever seen him. Emotionally high, that were. That were one good thing you could say for Daron. He never touched drugs. But that figured, didn't it? After all, if you took away them fancy trucks and space transports and the extra stuff they hauled, his family was traffickers for Kulgalu. That were how come Daron were so rich. But living like that he had to have seen the bad side often enough to scare him off. But that night Daron had been on a high, and nobody could touch him. Even though he couldn't stand the guy, Maras had to admit it had been really something to watch.

"Mr. Maras?"

The assistant manager, arms full of boxes and followed by yet another woman, this one young and pretty and carrying more boxes, interrupted his reverie.

"I have a few suggestions you might care to look at."

Maras dutifully spent twenty minutes looking at flowers. It were real good, because the old lady got called away, and even if she didn't say much the pretty latino girl were nice. Just as they was narrowing it down to two flowers, the orchid and some dainty little flower in intense turquoise blue and with a name Maras couldn't pronounce, the old lady came back.

"I see you've made some progress. Either would make lovely corsage, Mr. Maras."

Yup, they would, but they weren't blue lace lilies. Hell. If Daron could spend a fortune on a tramp like Hidi, he could buy something pretty for a nice girl like Cailla.

Maras said stubbornly, "I still want them blue lace lilies." Rather to his surprise, the old lady beamed at him.

"A special evening? Something sentimental between the two of you? How very nice."

The girl tugged at her sleeve and whispered something Maras didn't catch.

"Yes, thank you for reminding me, dear. Mr. Maras, lately some of our clients have been buying jeweled butterfly pins from a jeweler down the mall to hold the corsage on. It's a nice touch. It gives the lady a long lasting reminder of the night. Would you like us to get one for you?"

In the poem a butterfly landed on the lily. The first time Maras had seen a live butterfly was in Mai's yard. He'd helped Kimi try to catch it. Smiling at the memory, he said, "You do that."

*****

Chapter 19

"Here you are then."

Eddy stepped into the Pendrae space station portel room and put the travel cases he was carrying on the bench at the end of the bed. He straightened, looking at the slender latino who hadn't said more than si, no, and thank you since he had met him at the Customs and Immigration. Eddy could see why Isley liked him. Tedia had the build for a winger, and he moved well. What Eddy didn't see was why Isley had brought someone up from Junior A, not one of their Planetary Pro farm teams. Well, time would tell. And speaking of time...

"Tedia, sorry to be rude but practice is in forty five minutes so I've got to go. Those passes I gave you will get you past security to the dressing room, and I'll introduce you to the guards after practice. Right now I've got to make sure your uniform from Laurion is in the dressing room." The farm teams all wore Tamara black and green. "Then if you can show up early we can merge what you want of it with the new uniform."

Eddy guessed that would be everything but the chest and back with the team logo and numbers. Tedia was in threadbare jeans, a worn-out T-shirt, and he hadn't put his well seasoned Octagla stick down once. He obviously liked familiar and comfortable.

"Si, Señor Eddy. Practice in forty five minutes." Tedia slanted him a look through thick eyelashes trying to make sure he understood. "Thank you, and I'll be there in a few minutes."

Eddy nodded and left. As the door closed behind him, Eddy a felt a sense of relief. Why did Tedia unsettle him? He was used to pretty much all types by now. Maybe it was those amber eyes and the way he looked at you sideways, not directly.

***

Tedia stared at the closed door. Eddy, left-winger for Tranus the year they took the Galactic championship in straight games, had just showed him to his room. It wasn't real. Nothing had been real since his coach got the call to send him to join Tamara on the Pendrae space station.

His memories of the time since then were of medicals, sessions with his coach, more medicals, and forms. Then five days ago he got in a chartered space yacht as the only passenger. That had finished freaking him out. Tedia had handled that by watching and rewatching the games Coach Isley had send him links to. Coach Isley, the man who was trying for the unheard of, a three-peat of the Galactic Octagla championship, was his coach.

Tedia made a disgusted face. He was just giving himself nerves again. He put the bags he was carrying beside the ones Eddy had brought in. By the way Eddy looked at his bags, he'd brought too many. He'd tried to tell his mother he only needed a change of jeans, a couple more T-shirts, and underwear but she hadn't listened. Shopping was her way of being nervous too.

So this was what a space station portel room was like. It was fine, but very utilitarian. A minimalist human storage cubicle consisting of a bed, a single chair, a fold down table or desk, and a door that must lead to the sanitation facilities. Another door that must open to a storage area. The colors were all muted beige. There must be some kind of holovision? He'd figure that out later. Right now he couldn't keep Eddy waiting. Tedia looked at his Octagla stick on the bed. He hoped his equipment was alright. Presumably it was cleared by customs by now?

This room was the way everything he'd seen on the Pendrae space station was, minimalist and utilitarian. Tamara was ornate in comparison. Whenever he and his team mates could, they had explored the rim of Tamara station with its amazing artwork, fountains, and elaborate micro gardens. There had never been a reason to be in a portel room though since they took the shuttle or a yacht back and forth to games. The portels there protected the privacy of their guests too; the couple times they had tried snooping beyond the lobby and restaurants they had been firmly escorted out and a complaint given to the team management.

He had wanted to ask Eddy how much the planetary cultures were reflected in the space stations, but the man's accent was impossible. So Tedia had focused on making sure he understood the basic things, like what time the practice was. One practice, then play with Tamara! Oh, stop it, he told himself. Get your nerves under control.

***

Immediately before they went into the court to practice were a good time to tell Coach Isley he wanted to go planetside, Maras decided. Usually they was expected to get planetside g's, but with all their time on Gingezel and the bad vibes about the game, Isley had told everyone to stay put and obey curfew. But if he got Isley when he were busy, Isley weren't likely to ask questions or say much with all the guys around.

Nervous, and one of the first dressed for once Maras scanned the dressing room. New guy were here. Scrawny kid, and scared too. As Eddy walked up to Coach Isley, Maras forgot about Tedia and focused on the conversation. Good. They was really talkin'. He stood up and walked over.

"Coach Isley."

"Hang tough a sec, Maras."

Isley continued his instructions to Eddy about a change he wanted in one of the drills to let him get a better look at Tedia. Isley admitted he was nervous. After the brawl with its resulting penalties and injuries, the remaining team was going to be stretched thin this game. The next wouldn't be so bad. The one game suspensions would be past. Still, this was not the team he had been sure could take that coveted three-peat. Isley had been counting on his first string. Hall of Fame center Daron. Well, he was now in a hospital bed with a broken neck and severe head injuries. Roban and Ranga on left-wing, that pair had been a dream to watch. Well, Ranga was now undergoing reconstruction for a more badly shattered hand than Roban came back from. And Roban, steady calm Roban, he'd started that damned brawl and had a season suspension! That left his right-wing, Mercan and Rundell. At least Mercan was his usual self. Rundell had a badly compressed nerve in his wrist thanks to Jaik.

He was bringing Larr back to first string, and after the Celebrity Game Isley believed Larr had star potential. Red would never have, but he was playing center. And Mikey in goal? Bourara had shown a twisted sense of humor there, suspending Tarell for what could be the whole playoffs, but making him available if they went full games. Tarell was no Menzaille, but he was every bit as good as Arrof despite their different styles. While Arrof was a tall lanky scarecrow who played to the crowd, Tarell was compact, medium height with economical moves, and quietly thoughtful. He was also one of the few men in the league to wear a mustache. For a moment Isley looked to where the dark blond was sitting, quiet as always. Tarell must have felt the look, because Tarell met his eyes for a fleeting second then looked down. Right now Tarell was just about as unpopular as Roban, and he knew it.

Isley finished talking to Eddy, then looked at Tedia seated halfway down the room and looking very nervous. Tedia, please be as good as those clips! He turned to the massive man beside him.

"Maras?"

"Wanna go planetside to visit someone I met from Mai."

Isley was about to protest that they were all to stay put when he realized Maras had his stubborn dogged expression. It simply wasn't worth it, and he couldn't come to any harm with Mai's family.

"All right."

"Just one thing. They got supper set up. I don't know when we'll get through eating. So I can't book a shuttle so good. So I'd be waiting at the spaceport and maybe not make curfew." Maras paused. That were a lot of words and he'd kinda got lost. What were he sayin'?

"You might have shuttle problems," Isley prompted patiently. He knew it was a waste of time to be impatient.

"Yeah." That were it. "Maybe I could get a portel room there and come up in the morning."

Isley looked at Maras suspiciously. That was exactly the kind of setup job Daron would pull if he had a hot date. But Maras? You pretty well had to force him to go planetside during the season. He didn't even have friends, much less a string of girlfriends. Mai had probably booked Maras a table at her cousin's restaurant and told her to chat with Maras a bit. In the corner of his eye he saw Eddy and Tedia approaching.

"You do that, Maras. Just tell me where you're staying."

Maras nodded in satisfaction. That worked real good. Smiling to himself he walked back to the bench. Were gonna be real good.

Isley focused on Tedia. Eddy had introduced them and they had shaken hands earlier, that was all.

"You wanted to talk to me, Señor Isley?"

Tedia's intelligent amber eyes were wary behind his thick lashes. He had been warned by every last person on or associated with his junior team, plus his parents, to not blow this chance to go Galactic Pro. Coach Isley was the man who would make or break his career. Tedia realized he'd only be subbing off the second string some, so what he wanted to do was look good in practices.

"That's right."

Isley tried to read the young man. Nervier than Ranga. But what else? He wished the flight had arrived a few hours earlier so they could have talked.

"Our drills are pretty much like yours. They shouldn't be a problem. In the scrimmages I want to you to take Ranga's position. Your movements are a lot like his and Roban's. If you can play with Larr and Red, I'll keep you first string."

"Si, Señor"

Tedia swallowed a wave of exhilaration and panic. First string! Or had he heard that wrong?

***

Isley nodded in satisfaction. Tedia looked as good as he had in the segments of practices and games his coach had sent. He definitely had the moves, and it only took him one drill to figure Mikey out. As Isley watched he put one in lower right. So far Isley wasn't seeing a favorite corner Tedia shot for. Good. That made it harder for the opposing goalie.

As Tedia started to return to the end of the line he waved him over and turned to Tarell.

"Take him down to the other goal show him what you can about Aroff." He turned on a private intercom channel. "Chan, come over here."

Tarell asked quietly, "Playing him first string with Larr then?"

"Going to try it."

It would help if his injury and game penalty subs Greg and Marco were here too, since they would be helping Chan out in what had been Roban's slot and Tedia would play with them this game. But there had been a sensor problem on their space yacht, and now they were due just before the game. They should have been here a couple hours ago. As for getting here before the game, Isley wasn't betting on it. Greg and Marco had that kind of luck. He was guessing they would show mid first period. But they couldn't have left earlier. They got in the Genie as soon as the game they were playing was over.

*****

Chapter 20

The taxi had been heated, but by the time Maras crossed the sidewalk to the restaurant in the driving snow he was shivering. He were coatless and only wearing a tropic weight suit simply because he didn't own anything warmer that was dressy enough. Space station weather was eternal springtime. He had a heavier team jacket he wore on Gingezel, like on the boat with Rori, but it weren't dressy. He pushed open the door and stepped into the warm interior of the restaurant with relief.

Lee, the young man at the desk, looked up, recognized his guest, and pushed the contact to summon his mother. She had said she wanted to seat Maras herself.

Anxious to please, Lee stepped out from behind the desk and said automatically, "Let me take you coat." As he extended his hand he realized his mistake and stammered, "Sorry. You aren't wearing one." Talk about looking stupid!.

"Nope," Maras agreed, not all disconcerted by this slow grasp of the obvious. "Do you have a table for me? I'm Maras and I'm meeting Cailla."

He sincerely hoped Cailla were already here. He didn't want to have to sit there and wonder if she wasn't going to show.

"Yes sir, but Cailla isn't here yet."

He knew it! She weren't coming. Maras looked at the expensive package in his hand. Maybe Mai's cousin liked flowers. Maybe the taxi were still there.

As he stood there indecisive, Mai's cousin came hurrying up. She looked remarkably like Mai, except that she was about a hand taller, four kilos heavier, and had a few gray roots in her shiny black hair.

"Maras, I'm Cammli." She beamed at him. "So glad you've come. Let me get you settled. Isn't this weather terrible? Cailla has quite a drive. You'll probably have a bit of a wait for her."

Of course, that were it. The snow had slowed her down. That were all. The taxi driver had been swearing at the roads all the way here.

Maras let Cammli lead him into the restaurant. Were nice, like the images on the hyperweb. All red and black and white with bright lights so you could see the food good. Satisfied, his mind shifted to his next problem. Was any of the guys from Pendrae United here? The game tomorrow weren't gonna be good. And what about fans?

"Maras! That was something you up on the roof!"

Heads turned as Maras swiveled in the direction of Ferdik's voice. He rewarded the massive blond defensemen with a smile. Ferdik was one of the few players in the league he considered a friend.

"Ferdik."

Ferdik closed the distance, hand outstretched. It was the surest way to avoid a friendly clout. He'd learned that when they played together the second season Maras was pro, although for the life of him he had no idea right now who they had been playing for. It had been a good season though, and he'd enjoyed Maras's company. He was a good listener and they both liked the same kind of restaurant or bar to fill up at.

Sabian followed, a slender blond shadow behind Ferdik. He had the polite smile of recognition any journeyman player with much sense cultivates for off the court. After all, you never knew who you'd be playing with next season. In Sabian's case, he realistically expected to be traded. He didn't fit at Pendrae United, and he suspected Bralin had heard him tell Roban after the brawl that he had moved in to get Bralin off him, not help deck him. At any rate Coach Kendrix didn't even say hello to him now.

Isley was short a winger, Sabian suddenly realized. Ranga was going to need a year for that hand to rebuild. The two seasons he'd played for Isley were the best he'd had. He put more warmth into his smile, letting it reach his blue eyes, and extended his hand as well.

"That must have been something, playing against Rall."

To Sabian Rall was the greatest roof runner of all time, a hero at a level his being in the Hall of Fame barely acknowledged. The game had lost a lot when that generation of roof runners retired. He'd never been quite sure if roof running went out of style, or there just weren't the players who could do it any more. Sure, they all played "upside down" some, but that wasn't the same level of disorientation at executing a whole play "upside down". He knew he couldn't do it.

"Were good," Maras agreed, looking past Sabian to the Pendrae United table.

Journeyman Calban gave Maras a friendly nod, too relaxed and stuffed to bother getting up.

Maras returned it. Calban were okay. Would get some play first string now with Bralin suspended. Would be like playing Roban, they was a lot alike only Calban had brown hair and were better lookin'.

Mai's cousin Koji was seated with his back to the door. He acknowledged Maras with a casual wave over his shoulder, but didn't turn.

The wave startled Maras. Koji didn't like him none. Must be being nice 'cause of Mai.

Jaik gave Maras a glare that suited his usually sullen face and pointedly returned his food.

Maras mentally shrugged. Jaik didn't like him no more than when they'd teamed together. Fine. He didn't like Jaik none either. Were a good winger though, an' with Roban suspended he'd probably be top scorer in the league.

"That was something, watching Rall's roof bounce shot live," Sabian said, "not archived."

"Didn't have a chance," Maras said. "He's still got the moves."

"Didn't have a chance with Mai either." Ferdik laughed and clouted Maras first. "Got to finish supper. See you in the court."

That were right with the big game tomorrow, don't talk much. Maras started after Cammli, got five steps, and a man rose from the first table.

"Maras, that was a memorable game."

He extended his hand, allowed Maras to crush his, and sat down again.

The pattern repeated at pretty much every table. Were nice people here, Maras decided. No one wanted an autograph or expected him to talk. Friendly too, for him not being home team.

Cammli seated Maras at a table right by the artificial fireplace. This had not been her plan. She had mentally placed Maras and Cailla at the far end of the room, well away from the Pendrae United table. When Jaik had showed up as an unexpected fifth at the table for four, she'd been congratulating herself on her foresight. Jaik could have a mean streak, and Maras had robbed him quite a few times over the season. But Jaik looked like he was just in one of his sullen moods, that was all, and Maras was grossly underdressed.

Maras opened the bag he was carrying, took out the corsage, and carefully positioned it by Cailla's fork. Feeling slightly guilty, he took the seat closest to the fireplace, telling himself it was the right seat for him since he could see the door.

Cammli looked at the corsage with raised eyebrows but held her tongue.

"Let me get you a few things to nibble on while you wait."

With another look at the corsage she moved off in the direction of the kitchen. She would swear that was a blue lace lily. A few minutes later Cammli returned with a double sized serving of marinated vegetables, a platter of sausage and savory smoked meats, and a basket heaped with breadsticks and various sweet and savory rolls. Cammli was a good judge of her clients and she expected Maras could out-eat Ferdik. She put these all within easy reach and added a plate of butter curls. Lastly she deposited a small bowl of sauce.

"Now Maras, I warn you, this really is hot."

"That'll be good."

Maras nodded his thanks and she left. He rolled up a piece of sausage with his fingers and chewed it. Not bad. Next he speared a mushroom with his fork and, without tasting the marinade first, drenched it in hot sauce and popped it in his mouth. The fire spread and he started to tear. Contentedly he chewed and swallowed. Someone knew how to make hot sauce – fiery but it didn't choke off your breathing. He picked up a seed encrusted roll and broke it in half. He weren't dumb enough to follow that sauce by water! He bit into the moist roll that had been out of an oven less than an hour. Real good. He buried the rest in butter and ate it. Now this were a restaurant what understood food. Maras started to relax. Even if Cailla didn't come it were gonna be a real good night.

*****

Chapter 21

Cailla came through the restaurant door on a gust of snow. She pulled her parka hood back, stamped her boots, and shook the snow that was clinging to her velvet pants off before it melted.

"What a night!"

"Terrible," Lee agreed, stepping forward. "Let me take your coat, Cailla."

"Thanks." Cailla let herself be eased out of the parka. "It's going to get worse. Freezing rain was just hitting my place when I left and just six blocks from here I ended up waiting while they cleared an accident. That's why I'm late."

"Terrific. We'll end up sleeping here."

Sitting on one of the entry chairs, Cailla pulled strappy evening shoes out of her bag.

"That could be fun."

She kicked out of her boots and slipped them on, then straightened, studying her reflection in the wall of mirrors. That was her one objection to the restaurant. The powder room was across the restaurant so you couldn't pretty yourself up before going in. She decided she'd do.

"You are looking terrific tonight," Lee confirmed.

Cailla was not offended at the personal comment. He was Mai's cousin's second boy and they all treated her like family.

"Is Maras here yet?" She wondered if the weather had kept him from even bothering to come down.

"He got here a while ago. If you can believe it, he wasn't wearing a coat and he has on a summer suit, so mom put him right by the fireplace." He looked at the fuzzy cardigan jacket she was wearing. "I hope you don't mind."

"No problem."

"Shall I show you to your table?"

"Don't bother. I can't miss Maras, can I?"

***

Maras was a firm non-believer in chemistry as it applied to sex, or he supposed romance although he didn't think much about romance. As far as he could figure it, the term were used to sell chick flicks, and those romance novels with hearts and flowers on the cover. He'd hit one or two of the first strictly by accident and not been impressed, and managed to totally avoid the second since the covers were a dead giveaway. Every now and again one of the guys would insist he just had to watch some regular holodrama because the chemistry between the leads was great, and he would because he always enjoyed them. But chemistry? As far as he could tell in those holodramas they just had better than average actors and actresses who cared less than usual running around naked in front of a camera and a crowd.

Maras also distrusted the term chemistry because it was a favorite of Superstud's. He was always talking about the fantastic chemistry with this woman or that woman. As far as Maras was concerned, sex was sex. It were one of the nicer athletic recreations around, and women differed in skill levels, but that were all. Daron was no different from any other guy, and scoring for him was no different than for anyone else. Maras figured all the chemistry talk were just a shot at getting the guys jealous, and it usually worked. But not with him. He weren't buying.

Maras had a nice comfortable working definition of women. He divided them into two types. There was the nice women, like Mai, and like he wanted Mai to introduce him to. Then there were the not nice women. He had subcategories here, including real nasty ones like his agent, and women whose morals matched Daron's. The latter could be pro or amateur. All of the groups of not nice women were useful at times, and you used them and paid them, but you didn't make friends with them. Among the nice women he knew, and Maras had to admit the list weren't long if he excluded relatives, some he liked, some he didn't particularly like. But as far as he could see that had nothing to do with chemistry. After all, among the guys some he liked, and some he didn't like, and guys did nothing for him sexually.

However Maras was not thinking about chemistry. He was trying to decide how much longer he should sit there before admitting he'd been stood up and cutting his losses by ordering a good supper. The nibbles had been tasty, but they were gone, and the food at the other tables looked good. He was getting hungry. The chemistry bit just sort of snuck up on him.

Time to give up and eat. Where were that waiter? Maras scanned the room. There he were. Then a motion in the doorway caught his eye, and he stopped a wave to the waiter before it started. A woman was coming in. It weren't Cailla, but she were a real looker, the kind Superstud chased. Fairly tall, but not skinny. Good figure, with great hips and legs underneath soft looking trousers. A mane of blonde hair all loose the way Hidi wore hers, but a nicer almost white color, and makeup like a fashion model. In fact, she just might be better looking than Hidi, and that were saying a lot. Maras did not like Hidi. He hadn't liked her much when she were Daron's most regular woman, and he didn't like her at all now that Big Luis had fallen for her. Still, he admitted she were something to look at, blonde and tawny, end to end with everything just right. This one might be better though. Instead of tawny, she were rosy, with pink lips and cheeks, a rose-colored shiny blouse under a fuzzy sweater, and deep wine colored trousers.

Who were she joining? A woman like that weren't gonna be dining alone. Maras rather hoped she would get a seat where he had a good view. She'd be real good to watch while he had that chicken in cream sauce that looked so good. Even as he was wondering, Jaik rose from his table and headed towards the woman smiling.

Wouldn't you know it! Jaik figured he were another Superstud. There wasn't a space left at the Pendrae United table where he'd get a good look either. Oh well, he'd watch her get settled then have that chicken.

"Cailla! I didn't know you were coming in tonight." Jaik's smile was warm.

Cailla?! Maras stared. That couldn't be Cailla.

Cailla resignedly slowed her steps. Jaik would have to be here. Still, she had the perfect excuse for avoiding him. There were times when she was tempted to tell him she'd sooner sit at a table alone in the corner than eat with him. In fact, now that she thought about it, that was exactly what she had told him last week when he caught her in a bad mood. It was a wonder he had the nerve to try again. The memory brought a smile to her lips.

"Jaik. How are you?"

Well aware of the whole restaurant as an audience, Jaik stepped closer and gave Cailla a kiss on each cheek. She was looking stunning tonight. Usually she showed up in jeans and an old sweater just nice enough to eat out in. They all did. This was a second home.

"Won't you eat with us? We're almost at the desert stage, but no one is in a hurry."

They wouldn't be either, not with her looking like this. He wondered when she'd get tired of playing hard to get.

"Thanks, Jaik, but I'm joining Maras."

Cailla tried to look past Jaik to give Maras a smile, but she couldn't catch his eye.

"Maras?"

Jaik couldn't keep the shock out of his voice. Then he had himself under control.

"Next time then. Enjoy your evening." His tone of voice made it clear that was distinctly unlikely.

"I intend to."

Cailla gave him a sweet smile and sailed past, trying to decide what she should make of Maras's expression. He was not happy, but she wasn't sure if the little scene with Jaik had upset him, or what.

Actually, Maras had rather liked that scene with Jaik. He'd liked the shock in Jaik's voice, and he'd liked the envious looks on the men's faces when they'd turned to look at Cailla. What was troubling him was that this were Cailla. Obviously she weren't going to show up in Octagla gear, but he had expected the nice-looking clean scrubbed woman he'd seen in the message. Mai had said she were nice. His mental tone of voice was slightly dubious as he repeated that and watched Cailla cross the restaurant.

*****

Chapter 22

"Maras."

Cailla smiled as Maras rose to greet her. She didn't trust him one bit to not make this awkward, so she closed the distance between them quickly, talking as she went.

"Sorry I'm so late, but the driving is really treacherous tonight."

Fearing he'd do something like try to shake hands, Cailla quickly put a hand on each of his arms and stretched up to kiss each cheek. Then, just to spite the pair of eyes she could feel boring into her back, and because she figured it wouldn't hurt Maras's stock at all with the rest of the guys at the Pendrae United table, she moved on to place a brief soft kiss on his lips.

And that was a mistake, a big mistake. While Maras did not believe in chemistry, Cailla had hit a very strong attraction a couple of times before. The first time she'd been so young. So had the lad. The romance had been totally innocent, taking walks, holding hands, and a few stolen kisses. Then his family had moved off planet. They'd corresponded for a while but eventually lost touch. As she'd grown up and dated, she'd decided that she had imagined the magic because she was so young, that all that had happened was puppy love. Then in her rookie year with the Nebula, she had, as her mother put it, 'been stupid enough to get mixed up' with a local businessman twice her age. He was cut from the same cloth as Superstud and Jaik, and she'd known it. She'd told herself she'd be wise and not get hurt, she told herself it was so fantastic she didn't care, she'd told herself he couldn't be feeling what she was feeling and just walk away. Then two months and five days after their first date, he dumped her. There had been enough warnings she couldn't exactly claim a broken heart, but it had been badly chipped and she'd sworn off chemistry.

Now Cailla felt betrayed. Maras was supposed to be totally safe. He wasn't her type. He wasn't anyone's type. But never, never had a man felt so good, and she had been sure she was immune now.

Maras was, in his turn, intensely disappointed. He were disappointed that Mai were wrong and Cailla were one of Jaik's kind of women. Why else would she kiss him like that? At the same time he were disappointed that the contact had been so brief. He'd never had a kiss feel like that. It had barely been a touch, but – he couldn't describe it. Mostly though he were pissed with himself. He were wanting to do things that was all wrong to be thinking about in a family restaurant with a nice girl. If she were a nice girl. Back to square one, one of Jaik's women.

To hide her confusion Cailla turned to her chair. "I'm dressed for the snow, Maras. Would you help me with my sweater."

Maras dutifully helped her out of it, the mane of hair sliding over his hands. He hung the sweater, and helped her sit without a word. As he was about to return to his own seat, Cailla caught his hand.

"Maras, I am not, have not been, and will never be one of Jaik's women!"

Now, why the hell had she said that? But she knew. She couldn't stand what she was seeing in Maras's eyes.

"You don't have to say nothing."

It was the first words he'd spoken. He didn't believe her. He went and sat down.

Don't I? The tone of voice confirmed her suspicion.

"Maras, you can't imagine what it's like. A creep like Jaik starts hanging around you, and everyone assumes –" Cailla stopped, flushing. Unable to look at him she fidgeted with her empty glass. "It's not nice, Maras."

Suddenly she looked up and smiled. "You don't know how glad I was to have a polite reason to walk away! The time before I just lost my temper and told him I'd go eat alone in the corner before I'd eat with him."

Maras actually felt vaguely guilty. His sister wouldn't like people thinking that stuff about her. He wouldn't like them doing it either – he'd thump them! He swung back to Mai's assessment. Cailla were a nice woman. She sure looked mad at Jaik anyways. He started feeling pretty good about the night again. He was curious though.

"You really said that to Jaik? Here in the restaurant?"

"He was asking for it!" Cailla was defensive of what she thought of as criticism of the public scene.

That would've been worth seeing. Maras had never seen a woman tell Superstud off. He chuckled.

"Good for you."

His laugh wasn't at all what Cailla had expected. She'd never so much as seen an image of Maras smiling, much less laughing. She liked the rumbling sound of it though, and she relaxed a little. So, what now? Presumably food.

"So, Maras. Are you ready to eat? You must be starved waiting."

She was nervous Maras suddenly realized. She were sitting there fidgeting her glass, and she hadn't so much as noticed the box beside it.

"I could eat," he conceded, "but I got you a little present first."

Maras started to point out the box, then stopped, realizing he'd have to touch her hand in the process.

Cailla's eyes followed the motion. There was a florist's box, obviously a corsage, there in plain sight. How had she missed it? She'd never thought of a corsage. She didn't associate Maras with flowers. But if he did buy them, and he obviously had, they would be roses, probably red and they would clash terribly with her blouse. She should have thought of that.

"Thank you, Maras," she said with probably less enthusiasm than the gift deserved.

Putting on a smile, Cailla took the box and opened it. It was a blue lace lily, with the prettiest little gold filigree butterfly! How in the galaxy had Maras ever come up with this? Mai immediately came to mind as the answer, but not totally. She might have prompted Maras that Cailla's favorite flower was a blue lace lily, but she wasn't super feminine. The brooch was, and it was beautiful.

Maras watched the look of pure delight on her face. He done good then, and all that trouble were worth it. It would be real nice, he decided, if she ever looked at him that way, not that there were much of a chance.

"Thank you, Maras. It's absolutely beautiful."

Cailla reached across the table and touched his hand.

The social cheek kisses didn't count. Maras knew that. But that were twice now she'd touched his hand when she didn't have to. Did that other kiss feel good to her too, or were she just the kind who touched people a lot? Maras turned his mind to practicalities. He did not want Cailla to think he were responsible for that brooch. She obviously hadn't seen it yet.

"Cailla." It was nice to say her name. It were a pretty name. "I'm real sorry about the brooch."

"Why?" He'd totally lost her on that one.

"It's a ripoff."

Maras's face was grim. He didn't like being taken advantage of, but there'd been no time to fix things up.

"The lady at the florists said a pin would be nice, and that a jeweler two shops down made nice butterflies." He'd really liked the idea of a butterfly with the flowers. "I think she meant well," he conceded grudgingly, "but for what the jeweler charged I could've got something nice."

Cailla looked from the beautiful pin to Maras, back to the pin, then at Maras. She saw the thick gold chain at his neck, the massive cuff on his wrist, the gold tubes in his hair. He probably valued jewelry by the weight of it.

She said gently, "Don't apologize, Maras. It's absolutely beautiful. What you paid for is the fact that someone with very clever fingers made all the little circles of wire, and set in the stones. That," she smiled, "plus the fact filigree is very fashionable right now."

Oh. So it were one of those pretty fashion things women were silly about. Well, he couldn't fault a man for making money if he could. But it sure wouldn't be off him ever again!

"As long as you like it," Maras said grudgingly.

"It's lovely. So is the flower - a blue lace lily! Let me go pin it on."

***

"Cailla!"

This time it was Ferdik who was on an interception course. Cailla obediently halted her return to Maras's table. As Ferdik neared, she put a hand on her hip in mock exasperation.

"Ferdik, are you guys suddenly into some version of team tag?"

Cailla was smiling as she said it though. She and Ferdik were friends from high school, but not the dating kind of friends. Currently Ferdik had three girlfriends, one off planet and two locally. As far as Cailla could tell though he and Sofi were getting quite serious.

Ferdik returned her smile. He liked Cailla. They all did.

"No. I'm blatantly snooping to see what Maras gave you."

He came closer for a look.

"What's the flower? I've never seen it before."

"A blue lace lily."

She was going to say they were out of season and wouldn't grow in a greenhouse, so they were an import, then decided it was no one's business but Maras's.

Instead Cailla said, "It's indigenous and I have some in my garden. As far as I know, it's not at all related to lilies, but the first settlers named it years before the botanists classified it."

Ferdik looked closer at the flower. It did look like blue velvet, with the veins looking like white lace.

"Will I hurt it if I touch it?"

"Go ahead." Cailla was amused.

Ferdik very carefully touched a petal with just one finger. It moved aside and he saw the butterfly pin. Now that was a really nice touch. Sofi always seem to prefer gifts that were transient luxuries – flowers, perfume, chocolates. But this way there was a permanent remembrance too. He filed the idea away. Her birthday was coming up.

"Tell Maras he's got one hell of a lot better taste than Jaik."

"Ferdik, Jaik heard you." Cailla's voice was low and upset. Jaik had suddenly stop talking.

"So?"

Ferdik couldn't care less about Jaik and his moods. As far as he was concerned, it was great if Maras ended up scoring where Jaik couldn't. Jaik's ego could stand being taken down a notch or two.

Cailla gave a quick furtive look at the Pendrae United table. Jaik's expression was glowering.

Ferdik suddenly realized she really was worried about a potential scene. The worry was quite probably justified by Jaik's expression. He took Cailla's elbow and started to walk towards Maras's table.

"Relax and enjoy your night," Ferdik said in a low voice. "I'll keep Jaik sober and get him out of here fast."

He turned and headed back to his own table. "Are you all going to sit here all night stuffing your faces?" His own plate had been empty and removed five minutes ago.

"Yes," replied Sabian. "Have some dessert." He didn't want to go out into the storm.

"Not here." Ferdik dropped his voice. "I ran into Frankie earlier. There's a new singer going on stage tonight at his club. She's off world talent, and really hot. What you say we check her out?"

He looked from face to face, watching them weighing the situation. As far as Coach Kendrix was concerned, Frankie's was off-limits for the team for quite a number of reasons. For those same reasons it was the best nightspot in this end of the city. So far they were getting caught about one trip out of eight, and no one had been benched yet, just fined.

Five pairs of eyes looked at each other.

Jaik said, "What's she like?"

"Sultry brunette, really built. Just your type."

For a moment Ferdik wondered what he'd just done to some strange woman. Then he decided that any woman making a career of the interplanetary nightclub circuit could take care of herself just fine.

"Good idea," Jaik said to nods around the table. "This town could use some new talent." He gave Cailla a sour look.

*****

Chapter 23

Cailla resumed her seat. "Ferdik says to tell you you have better taste than Jaik."

Maras grinned. Ferdik were all right. Having bestowed his highest compliment on his friend, he asked. "You know all the guys on Pendrae United?"

Cailla shook her head. "Only those six. They –"

"Five," Maras corrected her.

Cailla turned her head and counted. Jaik, she noted with relief was deep in conversation with Ferdik.

"You're right. Bralin's not here. He must have a big date."

If it was nothing special the guys usually just brought their date with, since they all had long-standing girlfriends.

"They all live in an apartment complex down the street from this restaurant. I did too until a year and a half ago, so we got to know each other, and I still use the same gym as they do."

Enough talking about Pendrae United.

"Now, what are you having? I think I'll have the roast."

***

Across the table Maras was studiously applying himself to his meal. There had been plenty of time for Cailla to think about it, and she had decided the reason he was considered more or less a social disaster was that he did not pass what she called the restaurant test. The restaurant test was for when you had serious doubts about the company of a male, and you wanted to do a little screening in a totally controlled environment. It helped reduce various stresses like ending up at a party and being embarrassed by the guy's big mouth, being groped in a theater, or coping with a drunk at a lounge. If at some point your date failed in the restaurant test, you could always develop a headache, go home alone, and refuse to answer future calls. With a guy the size of Maras, you definitely wanted a test before committing yourself to any of those hazards.

Maras, she suspected, had seen a lot of headaches, but not for any of the reasons she had mentally listed. He was definitely not the conceited, come on too hard type. His problem was the exact opposite. He could not be accused of even flirting, much less moving too fast since he barely even made eye contact. He did not talk too much. In fact, he had hardly responded to any of her attempts at conversation. She hadn't been able to decide there if it was because she bored him, he felt he had nothing to contribute, or simply his mouth was full. She suspected the latter because he really was diligent about keeping it that way. In fact, the only conversation beyond their initial greeting had been between the first two courses when Maras, the chef, and Cammli had entered into a serious debate about what to eat next. Maras had filled in the rest of that time talking Octagla.

None of this particularly bothered Cailla. She liked talking shop. Also, she had a good appetite and burned a lot of calories herself staying in shape, so she could appreciate that for Maras to keep himself his size and rock hard he had to be a serious table man. She suspected though that the average date would have decided about twenty minutes ago to cut her losses, go home, and do something useful like clean that kitchen cupboard she'd been stalling on. Well, she'd see if he talked more over coffee. Cailla applied herself to the excellent meal.

***

Maras mopped up the last of the sauce on his plate with a chunk of bread, put it in his mouth, and chewed contentedly. Mai's cousin Cammli sure ran a good restaurant. She understood people who liked to eat. Not every restaurant did. Some just put tiny bits of food on the plate, like it were art and you were supposed to look at it, not eat it. And some had so much spice you couldn't really pack much away without after effects. Between those two hazards he'd gotten pretty good at filling up on bread and butter. But everything here had been well cooked, tasty, not too spicy, and he'd been offered seconds, and once, thirds. The result had him feeling mellow about life.

Across the table Cailla was finishing her roast beef, intent on cutting the final slice into edible pieces. She sure were good company to eat with, almost as good as one of the guys. He'd given up trying to figure women and restaurants. They seemed to always want to come to one, then it didn't agree with them. They'd get all fidgety and push food around, and say all the noise and people gave them a headache and go home. Maras kinda felt sorry for them, but he figured they should learn to just eat first at home and get together at a show or club, because most of them missed a good night out by going home early. But Cailla didn't seem to be like that. She'd tucked away almost as much food as Roban or Mercan would have, and seemed focused on enjoying it, instead of letting the food go cold talking.

Cailla felt the eyes and looked up smiling. Then she noticed Maras's empty plate.

"Am I keeping you waiting?"

"Take your time. Enjoy your meal. I'm in no hurry."

Maras meant it too. All of the false confidence he'd talked himself into with Roban, that this date would work out and he'd get something going with Cailla had evaporated when she'd walked into the restaurant looking so gorgeous. He'd firmly reverted to the opinion he'd given Mai. Someone who looked like Cailla weren't gonna have anything to do with him. Still, she was his company for a little longer, and now that the serious business of eating was over, he intended to enjoy himself. Maras proceeded to do what Roban had predicted, sit and stare.

Cailla was aware of this and mentally shrugged, amused, and finished her supper. Presumably he could find his voice if he wanted to. As she put her fork down, he did.

"Do you want dessert?"

Maras had learned this was a high risk question with the women who had stayed to this stage. They'd say no, then when his came about sixty-five percent of them, would say 'Oh that looks so good! Can I have a taste?' He would then dutifully slide his plate over, and never see another morsel. And once, when he'd suggested the woman keep his, and he'd order another, she'd got all huffy and left. Since then he'd learned to shut his mouth and skip dessert. Maras liked dessert.

Maras also figured this little dessert trick accounted for a lot of those headaches. After all, eating all of that sugary stuff with just a couple lettuce leaves in your stomach was just asking for trouble. Cailla came through here too.

"Definitely. For my money they have the best dessert trolley in this end of the city. If you like pie, theirs are exceptional."

"That what you're having?"

"No. I'm an ice cream addict, and theirs is home made."

This was all very promising.

Trying to be helpful, Maras said, "You could always have both, you know, ice cream on the pie."

Cailla shook her head.

"No, Maras. You could, I can't. I know exactly what I need to keep in shape and not get fat. That's over my limit."

Maras was about to say what's a couple kilos here or there like he would to one of the guys, then he thought of how good those legs had looked walking up and kept his mouth shut.

The waiter arrived and they ordered. Cloudberry pie with cloudberry and vanilla ice cream for Maras, a single scoop of cloudberry ice cream for Cailla.

Well, this were it. If he were going to say anything about her poetry, this was pretty well the last chance, while they was waiting for dessert.

Feeling ridiculously nervous Maras said, "I read that book of poetry you wrote, Cailla. It's pretty."

Cailla was stunned. "You read it?"

Maras was confused.

"Yup. That's how I knew you liked that flower." He waved at the corsage. "How'd you think I knew?"

"I figured Mai did a little coaching, and I was going to go after her for that, so it's a good thing you set me straight."

"Mai shouldn't talk about you?"

"Mai should have known it was winter here, and that getting one of these would cost a fortune."

She gave that little smile Maras was starting to get addicted to.

"And don't say you can afford it, I know you can."

She, and every Octagla fan in the galaxy knew the rough outline of Maras's most recent contract, and it was impressive. She, and every Octagla fan also knew he was cheap. She'd heard a lot of derogatory comments about that, but having once visited the Terran megacity he came from as a tourist Cailla could understand his attitude. She had been warned to not go there, but that had just made her more curious. It wasn't terrible. The people were just working poor, obviously stretching every credit about three times as far as it would go. And any sort of maintenance other than the most basic was obviously not on the agenda for any level of government and hadn't been for a few centuries. Growing up like that had to have permanently fixed Maras's ideas on money.

"But all the same, whether we're talking your salary or mine, every player has to face the fact it's one very short career." Cailla was serious now. "And I think most of us have at least half a dozen uses planned for every last credit when we retire."

Maras nodded a solemn agreement. Weren't that the truth. There was a few guys like Daron who knew they had good money afterwards with their family, so they could just treat their salaries as spending money and live wild. But if you was like him, and came from nowhere, and knew damn well there weren't a single thing you was good at except using your body to play Octagla, you was looking at stretching that money for what could be a seventy year retirement, or longer.

Not that you'd ever be bad off, unless you really worked at being stupid an' living rich. He looked daily at them unreal salary numbers his playing had made him so far. But more than one old-timer had come up to Maras and said they'd do it different the second time around. That it were just too easy to get used to living high, and just keep going that way. Then before you knew it, you was sixty, sixty-five, and all the damage your body took started showing up. Maybe you needed special therapy, maybe reconstruction, maybe a lot of reconstruction, maybe someone to take care of you. And you went to plan it all out, and all those credits you thought was there just weren't, an' you couldn't quite put your finger on where the money went. But you was looking at another forty years or so of bad problems and not living the way you'd thought you would. And of course, by then you got family responsibilities too.

A couple had said they knew where the money went, some investment adviser were rich, not them. That were when he'd made himself learn how to check them fancy accounts with fancy words.

Cailla were showing good sense for a woman. Maras nodded at her with approval. But then, in his experience with his mother and aunts, even if they was soft on pretty stuff, when it came right down to it the women was the ones with money sense. They was the ones after all who had to stretch what was left of a paycheck after the rent to feed all the mouths. That had been a real challenge in his home. Klese were almost his size, and Reg were a big man too. And Jarad, the youngest and the runt of the litter who would never be bigger than Larr, could pack it away as well as the rest.

Klese were a bouncer now at the bar where his dad were bartender. Maras knew that was what he'd have ended up if he hadn't played Octagla, 'cause he weren't good at factory work, the only other honest alternative open to him. Maras knew he weren't good at talking, or making friends, but he liked to be where people were having a good time, a gym, or a restaurant, or a bar. So he wouldn't have minded being a bouncer. Klese had a good enough life. He took food home and his salary plus a little help from the folks let him pay for his single room flat, with enough left over for him to stand his mates the odd round of beer on his night off, or take his girl to a show now and then. But Maras knew he'd have trouble going back to that now.

Reg were the smartest in the family, and Maras was putting him through technical college. Reg were his friend too, and they'd talked about college for hours and hours. Reg had researched what skills was in demand on both the established and some of the newer planets, and figured he that between being big and healthy, and learning micro processor control for air conditioning he might get to emigrate. That would be good. It would give him the chance to have more to show at the end of his life than the same apartment he started out in and the knowledge he'd always kept his family fed.

Jarad were an afterthought, an accident actually. Now that Maras was older he seriously wondered if he were a half-brother, because his parents had been going through a rough spot just then. Maras had heard angry words he hadn't understood at the time. They might have just been anger, might not. 'Cause Jarad weren't like the rest of them. The kid was still at school and he was a real pain. Not quite a year ago Maras had got a call from an old mate of his who were no angel himself that the kid were starting to hang out with a gang that wasn't just tough, but was real bad news. So every trip home since then Maras had leaned on Jarad but good, and lined up a few of his old mates to keep the kid in line when he weren't around. So far it was working because they had the kid scared of them, but that wouldn't last. Already Jarad had gotten brave enough to tell Maras he had no right to talk with all the trouble he'd been in with the law. The kid didn't get it. That were exactly why he had the right to talk. So, one of these first times they'd have it out but good.

These thoughts, and similar ones surfaced every time Maras thought about his money, which meant they surfaced several times most days. But it also meant they were familiar and easily suppressed if there was anything better to think about, like the pretty woman opposite him.

*****

Chapter 24

Maras said magnanimously, "I were glad to get them for you. I knew you had to like them from that poem, and I were curious what they was really like."

Cailla was still having trouble with the image of Maras reading her poetry.

Feeling rather bemused she said, "It was very thoughtful of you."

She reached out to squeeze Maras's hand resting by his water glass. The unexpected contact brought Maras's eyes up to meet hers, and for a moment they were looking at each other with totally unguarded expressions. Embarrassed and coloring slightly Cailla gave him another quick squeeze, then dropped her eyes and picked up her own water glass.

The waiter who had been instructed by Mai's cousin who had been instructed by Mai to aid and abet anything that happened that looked even remotely romantic told the kitchen to hold dessert a moment.

That were nice, Maras thought. Very nice. In fact, it was well worth the cost of the flower. But that damned brooch were still a ripoff. Maras acknowledged he was feeling slightly more mellow about the butterfly though. It looked really pretty on her. However the momentary touch had driven those nice words of Roban's about the poem completely out of his head, and he really did want to talk about the poem.

Feeling rather desperate, and sure he'd sound stupid, Maras asked, "Cailla, when you write a pretty poem, like the one about the blue flowers, how do you get the extra words that are all wrong out of it?"

He really wanted to know. He'd spent most of the hours in space on the way from Gingezel to the Pendrae space station alone in his berth trying to write a poem about what it feels like to be standing there thinking the game is going well with less than a minute to go, then your center makes the perfect pass to the opposing team. He'd thought with not much words it would be easy but it were hard. Words he didn't want snuck in and when he took them out, nothing made sense. Eventually Maras had lost his temper and deleted the dumb poem. But then, maybe Cailla were real smart and never had words misbehave, so he amended his question.

"Or does it just all come out right for you?"

Cailla stole a quick look at Maras. The question he'd asked was one she didn't get very often. In fact, she'd almost guess he'd tried it and got himself stuck. But the idea was so absurd she dismissed it almost as quickly as it came into her mind. He did really look interested though, not just polite, so she answered him.

"Oh, I have problems. Once I woke up early in the morning with a poem in my head. I sat down right away to catch it. But I was sleepy and hungry." Cailla gave a rueful smile. "I lost focus before the end. I didn't know what to do – just leave it, or try.

"I was starved, so I headed for the kitchen. But the poem was in my head. So I decided to at least catch the idea, and there I was working on it while I ate. But I knew two of the last four lines weren't right.

She looked up to see how bored Maras was, but while Maras wasn't a talker, he was a real listener. She could imagine he actually cared. Cailla took a sip of water. No wine driving on a night like this.

"So I fought those two lines for the next three days. I think I changed each word half a dozen times and stored about fifty versions. One night when it was keeping me awake, I almost got mad and deleted the whole mess!"

Here Maras nodded with total sympathy.

"Then what did you do?"

"I've made that mistake and hated myself. I just left it and forgot about it. Then – oh, about four weeks later when I was changing the wash - the right words came to me." She smiled. "So I got my compad out fast!"

So maybe he hadn't done nothin' wrong, just quit too soon. Well, he were used to doing things that didn't come easily to him, so he'd try again.

To make sure he had it right though, Maras said, "Like when your pass goes off, and you don't know why, and no matter what you try it won't come back. Then about two weeks later when you're fed up and ready to quit, all of a sudden you say 'hey – that's what's wrong'."

Cailla thought about this.

"Pretty much I suppose. I hadn't thought of it that way."

Maras nodded with satisfaction. He'd eventually get it right then. The arrival of dessert spared him from coming up with another topic of conversation. The juice oozing out of the slab of pie was steaming, the ice cream scoops, all four of them, were melting.

"Oh, that looks delicious!" Cailla said.

She weren't any better than the rest of the women on dessert then.

He said with resignation, "Do you want to taste?" and pushed the plate towards her. At least she might trade for her single scoop of ice cream.

"Maras! Don't you dare!"

Cailla put a hand across the table to act as a roadblock.

"Don't what?"

"Give me that pie!"

"Why?" Maras was honestly confused. He hadn't hit this reaction before.

"Because I'll eat it. Then I'll end up spending a couple weeks doing extra hours in the gym working it off. I'll hate myself, and I'll be furious with you. In fact, I'd probably never speak to you again."

Because of a nice piece of pie?

"Why?" he asked again.

That stopped Cailla. She wrinkled her nose like she did when she was thinking.

"I'm not sure it makes sense. I think it's a variation on shooting the messenger. All I know is I'd be furious with you."

"For being polite."

"That's right."

Now, that were a real interesting piece of female logic. Cailla wasn't likely to get a headache from the pie, not with a good dinner in her, but she'd be mad enough to not speak to him again. No wonder he didn't fare so good with the ones that got a real sick headache too. He'd always thought those unreturned calls was because women didn't like him somehow, like he wasn't good at something or other he hadn't figured out yet. But he were just too polite. He'd better get this one right.

Maras pulled the piece of pie back in front of him.

"How about I just offer you a taste on a spoon?"

"Maras! I didn't know you liked to tease, and with such a straight face." Cailla laughed.

Maras hadn't known he was teasing either. He'd been dead serious. But he didn't mind the misunderstanding, the obviously delighted laugh, or the envious looks on the men's at the nearby tables faces. He carefully loaded up a spoon and handed it across.

"Here."

Cailla took it, letting herself touch his hand in the process, then she made a show of tasting the pie.

"Better than I imagined! Enjoy it."

She started on her ice cream.

***

About halfway through her ice cream Cailla realized Maras was not making significant progress on his dessert. The plate was turning into a puddle of ice cream. He could be full, she supposed, although that didn't really match his expression when the pie was put in front of him. And the cloudberry pie truly had been delicious. She frowned slightly, wondering what was wrong.

Nothing was exactly wrong. Maras was thinking, that was all. For him thinking was a slow, methodical, painstaking process that he took seriously and gave his full concentration. He had learned by bitter experience that this was the only way that worked for him. If he hurried, or did a shoddy job of it, he invariably ended up doing something he regretted. He knew a lot of the guys figured he were stupid, but he didn't think so. He knew he was slow, but as far as he could see, his conclusions, once he finally got there were as good as theirs. And as his old man had taught him, any job worth doing was worth doing properly.

Maras was taking time to painstakingly think now because he'd hit a circumstance he hadn't allowed for. He did not want this date to end with dessert. He'd taken as a given that it would. Mai had said that was nonnegotiable. Supper, good night. Any possible new negotiations starting in the cold, sober light of the next day. That had been fine with him. That gave both him, and the at that time unknown woman a safe out. And, if he was being totally honest with himself, which he wasn't on this particular point, every now and again he had a monumental case of cold feet about looking for a permanent mate.

But now the night and Cailla were real, and he did not want to say good night in twenty minutes or so. He was also moderately sure Cailla wouldn't object to being around him a little longer either. His verbal skills might not be great, but much of Maras's career success came from being very, very good at body language. He liked what he was seeing in hers, and the way she was touching him a lot when there was no reason to. But what were the options?

From his first run through, nothing great. Maras started reviewing the problem again, hoping without optimism that he'd missed something. Normally he'd just say let's go to a bar for a drink. But tonight that would be real dumb. Pendrae Octagla fans tended to be on the excitable side, and no one had forgotten the brawl. He were just too recognizable and, from their perspective, one of the bad guys. It weren't that the idea of trouble in a bar scared him. Maras had seen it before. For that matter, he had a couple of aggravated assault charges to his credit back from when he played planetary pro. But he were not subjecting Cailla to something like that. So, what else were there? It was too late to go to any kind of show, and asking a nice woman like her up to his room were unthinkable. So what was left were maybe a snooty lounge where no one got rowdy. But Maras weren't sure he trusted that. Never knew who might wander in. Besides he'd seen guys in fancy suits act up and start fights too.

Cailla took another look at the abstracted face. She didn't know Maras well enough to simply say 'what are you thinking about', so she asked, "Are you catching the 11 PM shuttle back to the space station?"

Maras shook his head. "I don't get space sick easy, so I won't be planetside again till playoffs end. I thought I'd stay down so I don't forget what it's like. I'll go back tomorrow afternoon in lots of time for the game."

"So what are you doing tonight?" It was a natural question, and an easy conversation filler since they had pretty much worked Octagla to death as a topic.

To be asked exactly what he was thinking startled Maras so thoroughly that he blurted out the truth.

"I'd like to ask you for a drink to listen to a good band somewhere, but I think it would be real stupid for me to go anywhere like that tonight." Then he could have bitten off his tongue.

"Don't even think of it! The way the sportscasts were running on last night, I almost called and canceled supper. I was worried about you at the spaceport." Cailla looked around, "Not here, although a lot of players at various levels eat here – friends of Mai's or Torin's. But it's the fans, not players that are the hazard, isn't it?"

Maras nodded, grateful for the understanding, and very, very relieved she hadn't canceled supper.

Curious, Cailla asked, "Are the fans a real hazard everywhere, like here?"

"Terra's worse. Playing planetary pro I ended up with two charges of aggravated assault. Did time for one. And I were just trying to not get killed in a bar. Once 'cause we won a crucial game. Once 'cause I didn't stop the goal that cost us the game. Same bar. Seems to just depend on who everybody bet on. Tamara is pretty tame."

Cailla was amused. Terra must be pretty tough for Maras to be worried about his skin.

"So what will you do?"

"Dunno. Replay a few games maybe."

Cailla hesitated, but it was more out of habit than any real concern. Maras might be socially inept, but she had decided he was totally harmless. If she took him home, the biggest danger would be his napping off on the couch with a beer still in his hand, and having to have the cleaners in. Amused by the image she smiled.

"Maras, why don't you watch something at my place? It's early enough you can still get back to the portel by whatever curfew you're on."

Somehow it bothered her, the idea of him spending a rare evening planetside alone in a portel room.

Maras was truly touched. In the culture he'd grown up in, only family and closest friends were invited to visit in the small, cramped apartments. Socializing was done in public spaces. That attitude was why he was sure that Mai and Rori saw him as almost family. And that was why he got brave enough to ask Mai to help him find a wife.

"Do you really mean that, Cailla?"

"Of course."

She were looking at him with a very nice smile.

"That would be great."

***

"Maras, where's your coat?" Cailla asked as Cammli took her parka from its hanger.

"I don't own one. Space stations is all the same."

Of course. Eternal mild spring, not cold snowy, freezing rain belonging to early spring or late winter depending on your degree of optimism. But walking the block to her GV in the summer weight suit at minus ten degrees Celsius and dropping was not a good idea.

"Wait here, I'll get my GV."

"I'll be fine."

He couldn't let a woman do things like that for him.

"It's over a block, Maras."

She saw the jaw set. Men! Well, it was compromise time. She turned to Cammli who was waiting patiently, Cailla's thick quilted parka in her hand.

"Can Lee go get the GV?" Cailla motioned towards the desk.

Cammli smiled, rather pleased with the way it all had gone.

"Are you still driving that sporty blue two-seater? He'd walk a kilometer even in a storm like this to get to drive that."

Cailla smiled back. "No. I've upgraded to the one above it, and it's cherry red this time."

She held out the key.

"You'll be lucky to see it again."

*****

Chapter 25

"This is real nice, Cailla."

Maras stood in the entry hall and mud room trying manfully not to shiver while Cailla got out of her coat, hat, gloves, and boots. She'd had the heat on in the GV, and Maras guessed it had been set higher than she would ever set it for herself. All the same he had never been so cold in his life. For that matter, he never knew it could get this cold, and watching the slushy mess of rain and snow hit the windshield hadn't helped.

It had distracted him from appreciating the very luxurious, sporty vehicle he had been squished into. Larr, the Sport GV enthusiast would have been drooling. But then, Larr wouldn't have been riding in it. After his nearly killing himself twice, management had decided Larr were unsound where Sport GVs were concerned, and much to his disgust his last contract had contained a stay out of all but the most mundane family type GVs clause in it. The slushy snow had also distracted him from studying the kilometers of suburbia, something that would normally have fascinated him. It was unlike his three main reference points: a megacity, the small town of Crescent Bay, or the mountain retreat he visited once a year.

So this were Cailla's house. Maras looked at the third detached residence he had ever been in with interest. Were that burgundy she liked, and blues, and one of them colors that wasn't a color that decorators liked. Weren't very big compared to Mai's, and it were full of plants. Two was kinda a funny yellow color and didn't look so good, so maybe they was all real.

Mai's house were real nice, but it was definitely a family house. You sure had to watch your feet for toys, something always needed fixing up, and the place was totally chaotic. On Terra, he annually spent a couple weeks in the isolated mountain retreat of the retired Octagla player he worked with on his season break as a defensive coach at their jointly owned Octagla school. That was a bachelor's residence, very, very comfortable but stripped to the minimum as far as anything requiring maintenance was concerned. Cailla's place, he decided, were more like Mai's only clean and fixed up.

"There." Cailla kicked the boots off and slid her feet into sandals.

Maras looked at the move, disbelieving. His feet felt like ice blocks.

"You have to be half frozen not dressed for winter. Come in here." She led the way into her living room.

Maras looked around for the nice fireplace he'd sat beside in the restaurant, assuming something like that must be standard in this wretched cold. It weren't there. He couldn't help it. Another bout of shivers hit.

"I'll turn the heat up," and get rid of this sweater Cailla added to herself, and undo a couple buttons on the blouse, and roll up the sleeves, "but that takes a few minutes. Meantime, come over here, Maras. I don't have a fireplace, but this wall is a radiant heater – and in the summer a trombe wall."

All that meant nothing, but Maras gathered it were warm. He walked over and placed a cautious hand on the wall. Perfect. Like a gel pack. He leaned his whole length on the wall.

***

Cailla put her hand up to smother a yawn. Rewatching a game with Maras was quite a procedure. Any even vaguely interesting play was studied three or four times, at various angles, with Maras providing running commentary. She wondered if he did the commentary when he was alone too, and decided quite probably. He seemed largely unaware of her. He was sprawled at one end of the couch, intermittently working on the snacks she'd fetched a while ago. At least he was aware of the snacks. Obviously at some point supper had worn off. Cailla found that hard to imagine, but about an hour ago he had tentatively asked if she was getting the munchies yet. So she'd gone and studied the cupboard and come up with a platter of nuts, cheese cubes, sausage slices, and breadsticks. It was half empty now.

Her wrist strip caught her eye as she lowered her hand and she froze.

"Maras! The time. Are you on curfew?"

He looked at his own strip which displayed both space station and local time.

"Shit!"

Cailla assumed that meant he was on curfew and was past it.

"Sorry, Cailla. Didn't mean to swear. But I were supposed to be back at the portel twenty minutes ago." He gave her a warm smile. "I was just having too good a time with the nice company."

He meant every word of it. Maras didn't remember the last time he'd had such a nice night. And she looked so pretty there, sitting at the other end of the couch, all curled up with her feet tucked under her. He'd had a terrible time, wanting to move down there and put an arm around her. But that would have been wrong, wouldn't it, her honoring him as a guest in her house, and Mai saying she'd had trouble with men. Maras could see why she had trouble though. She were so pretty. As it were, he'd kept talking about the game to stay distracted. He'd probably talked more tonight than he usually did in a month or so.

"I'd better call Coach Isley and apologize, then call a taxi."

There were no way he was having her drive him in that storm.

"Are you at a portel by the spaceport or in town?" If he'd said, she'd forgotten.

"Spaceport, so it's easy to get the shuttle."

"That's on the other side of the city past the restaurant. In this weather you're talking fifty minutes or so, plus however long it takes a taxi to get here."

Maras's jaw tightened at that, but all he said was, "Well, I really broke curfew then."

And he'd hear about it, Cailla thought. Somewhere between an hour and a half, and an hour and three quarters would push the most good-natured coach's tolerance. Cailla felt vaguely guilty, like she should have been taking better care of Maras. Although why she should think he needed taking care of was beyond her. He was obviously totally self-sufficient.

All the same, she found herself saying, "Maras, I have a guest room. Why don't you call the coach and say you're staying here. You probably haven't even broken curfew then. You're resting where you are staying."

"Cailla!" Maras was shocked. "I couldn't do that. What would your neighbors think if they saw a man leaving your place in the morning?"

Since they would very probably recognize Maras, and all but one of the neighbors were real social climbers, her stock would probably go up Cailla thought wryly. And the one whose opinion mattered to Cailla, a gray-haired old dear, was continually telling Cailla a pretty young girl should have a man in her life. But Maras obviously was not going to listen.

"So where does I call from to tell Isley I'll be late?"

***

A good judge of his temperament, Coach Isley knew he was in a bad mood that was deteriorating rapidly. He had called Maras shortly before curfew time simply because Maras would be in his room, and that was one name off his list. Tonight of all nights, he was personally making sure every name on that list was in the expected portel room, alone, en route to bed alone, and staying that way until morning. He wanted the team in top shape, and did not want trouble before or during the game tomorrow, because he was the one who would pay for it, but good. Marti had been appalled by the brawl and had let him know on no uncertain terms that there was not to be another one. Isley knew he would have good offers from other teams, but he liked coaching Tamara.

After the makeup games they could all relax. But until then they would behave. Isley was reasonable about that sort of thing, and that made him popular. He realized he was working with mature, professional, highly motivated young men and treated them that way. He largely let them live their own lives, and as a consequence, when he made a demand, they respected it and listened. So, he was not expecting trouble.

But Maras had not been in his portel room. The first time had been fine, because he had called early after all. Ten minutes later, it had not been fine, and had been even less fine when Isley had remembered that if Maras was out somewhere, calls to his portel room should be being routed to a temporary number assigned him. He had discussed this fine point with the concierge, who had said, yes indeed, this should happen, but Maras had not checked in yet. Early in the evening he had technically arrived, in that he had walked in, obviously in a hurry, thrust a bag at the concierge, said, 'Hold this until I come back', and left.

Isley had worked though his calls to the troublemakers on the team, and they were all in their rooms, watching holovision, soaking in a tub or whatever. All he'd had to do there was break up one card game. Not that there was anything wrong with a card game; they tended to stay friendly. But they also tended to run until 2:00 AM or so, and he wanted everyone fresh, so he broke it up. Then he had called planetside again. No Maras and no way to reach him.

So now, the question was what to do. Isley ran a hand through his thinning dark blond hair. His wife had remarked recently that it hadn't looked good on holovision the last few months, but Isley wasn't a vain man, and he had better things to worry about. After all, he'd been a coach now almost twice as long as he played pro, so what should she expect? Tonight the worry was Maras, when it should be strategy for the big rematch tomorrow.

Why had he ever let Maras go planetside anyway? He knew the answer. It was because Maras had taken him by surprise. Maras never asked to do anything. When the team was running as a pack, Maras would be on the fringes of it, as far away from Daron as possible, but that was the limit of his social life. He showed up for games focused and gave one hundred percent. He practiced. He worked out in gyms a lot. And that was it. Other than that, he spent his time in his room, almost always alone. Isley had no idea what he did there. Probably worked on strategy with that bitch of an agent, he thought sourly. He sighed, pulling a lip this time, not messing his thin hair. So when Maras had said he wanted to go planetside and see a friend of Mai's, he'd said yes. He'd actually thought this was good, Maras having a bit more of a life. After all, he was never trouble.

Now however Isley was reminding himself at roughly three minute intervals that Maras could be trouble. Those charges of aggravated assault were heavy duty. The word aggravated was correct; Maras hadn't started things but he'd sure finished them. If Maras ran into a bunch of drunk fans ... He'd been down this route often enough now that Isley was sure any call would be from the police, not Maras. Maybe he should call Mai on Gingezel to see if she or Torin had any idea of how to reach Maras.

A call tone! Isley peered at the identifier. The number and name C. Svenson meant nothing to him. A lawyer he supposed. Thoroughly expecting the worst he closed the contact.

"Maras." There was nothing in the big man's face that was vaguely reassuring. "Where are you?"

Isley was trying to figure it out. It wasn't the usual privacy booth, and it was too quiet to be a bar. Maybe it was a room at some other portel. Not a police station anyways. That was good.

Maras ignored that. There were no way he could say he was in Cailla's house. She were a friend of Mai's, and a nice lady. If anyone knew he were here this time of night and it got around, her reputation were ruined. And it were all his fault too, for not paying attention to the time. And here she'd honored and trusted him, a stranger, to come inside her home. It were shameful.

"I'm sorry if you tried to get me. I'm running late, but I should be in the portel in an hour or so."

"An hour or so?!"

Isley felt his blood pressure rise. He tried to remind himself that Maras was usually reasonable once he got something into his head. Before he totally lost his temper, he would take the trouble to make sure Maras did have things straight in his head. He didn't always. Isley took a slow, deep, not particularly calming, breath. Keep the words simple.

"Look, Maras. I know I'm not always touchy about these things, but tonight I am. It's a real, real bad night for you to decide to be out on the town. First, I really want you rested for the game. And second, it's late enough you could run into drunk fans. Hear me Maras. I'm going to be real mad if I have to haul you out of jail for the game."

Maras nodded in total sympathy.

"I know. That would be real bad."

One step forward. Maras had the concept.

"All right. Then let's make sure that doesn't happen. I want you in your room now, Maras, not in an hour or so. Now."

Maras was still sympathetic.

"I'm sorry, but it's gonna be an hour or so."

"Why?"

Maras just stared at his coach. He were not going to answer that one, and sooner or later Isley would figure that fact out. He were pretty smart.

Isley counted to ten.

"Maras. What are you up to? Let's start at the beginning. First, you say you're going planetside and you tell me what portel. Then I tried to call you there. You aren't in and your calls aren't being routed because you never checked in. I know that. I talked to the concierge. Explain that one first."

"I was running late," Maras said helpfully.

The fussy middle-aged lady at the florists took absolutely forever to package the corsage up and get the bow just so in the ribbon and he'd wanted to not keep Cailla waiting. He'd been afraid if he weren't there first she might leave.

Isley waited for elaboration to come that didn't.

"That's it? You were running late?"

Maras nodded.

"And now it's," he looked his time strip, "half an hour after curfew. I have no idea where you've been. I have no idea how to contact you when you disconnect. And you should be back in the portel in maybe an hour or so."

Maras nodded, relieved. That had gone better than he thought. But then, as he'd said to himself, the coach were pretty smart.

"Maras! If you think you can get away with that, you're as dumb as some of the guys think you are!"

Isley did not share that opinion. Maras was slow, and he marched to his own drummer, but he wasn't dumb. He was however, not above trading on being taken that way if it suited him.

"Where the hell are you? And don't give me that 'I have no idea what you're talking about' stare you been using. I want an answer."

Maras did not give him his impassive stare. He glared at his coach. The man were being totally unfair. He was being as open and cooperative as he could be under the circumstances. It was the coach, not him, who were wasting time talking. And now the coach were coming down on him like a ton of bricks.

Isley glared right back. He wasn't going to take this kind of crap from Maras anymore than he would from anyone else. The size difference – Isley was only ten kilos heavier than when he played inner right wing - the fact Maras was the current tough guy in the league, the fact Maras was a good candidate for MVP this year were all irrelevant. The minute he stopped being the boss with any one of his players was the minute it was time to resign.

He said acidly, "Maras. I won't pretend I understand this game you're playing, but I don't really care. Right now I'm still trying to find the new lineup that will work. Are you pushing to finish the season second string? Because if you are, that's just fine with me."

Isley meant it too, but it wouldn't come to that. Maras wanted that MVP too much. He'd never seen a guy work so hard for it. They glared at each other, then Maras dropped his eyes.

"You can do that, Coach Isley. And if that's what you want, that's the way it is."

*****

Chapter 26

What the hell? Isley was still not sure he'd heard right when he a female voice said, 'Maras, you're being ridiculous!' Woman? Maras might be mentally slow, but Isley wasn't. He'd made his second career out of reacting to situations that could change entirely with one high-speed Octagla pass. Maras had a woman, and he'd forgo the MVP rather than have it found out?

That was right in character. But what Isley couldn't figure out was how this one had slid right past him. True, he was preoccupied with fact the team couldn't seem to get past the shock of Daron's injury, but he usually didn't miss this sort of thing. He also usually kept out of it, but he usually knew. Well, Isley decided, he would learn a lot more in the next few minutes if he kept his mouth shut.

Cailla came into the study from where she had been blatantly eavesdropping in the doorway. She'd had this vague apprehension Maras was about to do something pigheaded and stupid, but get himself cut from the first line? That was ridiculous.

"Let me talk to your coach."

Completely focused on Coach Isley, Maras ignored this interruption. He'd thought things was going real good, and all of a sudden he were second string and forgetting about that MVP possibility that mattered so much. Confused and alarmed now as well as aggrieved, he had no idea why. He didn't know what he'd done wrong, and he weren't too inclined to try to figure it out. That would take a lot longer than he were likely to get.

What he wanted to do now was be real sure he knew what to do next to keep the coach from getting even madder and trading him. Maras didn't want to be traded. He liked playing for Tamara, and for that matter he liked and respected Coach Isley. And now, to make things even better, he had Roban as a friend.

Maras said cautiously, "Should I call and leave message, or wake you up with a call when I get to the portel?"

He needed to get every little step exactly right.

"Maras!" Cailla raised her voice. "Get out of that chair and let me talk to Coach Isley, or I'll sit on your lap and talk to him that way!"

She had to admit watching him get out of the chair that for a big man he could move, but he didn't go far. Just about six steps, then he stood there glowering at her, not the coach.

Cailla gave Maras her sweetest smile.

"Thank you."

She turned to Coach Isley. She suspected he'd pretty much had it with nonsense and she'd better talk fast.

She was wrong there though. Isley was getting quite intrigued by proceedings, and by what he saw. The woman wasn't at all what he expected. She had pale white blonde hair, the shade that usually came out of a hairdresser's, but by her coloring might be natural. She was pretty enough, and her makeup could be a fashion model's it was so sophisticated. She had on a pretty, feminine blouse that had four buttons undone, but somehow he didn't think she was being sexy. Her style seemed – he grasped for a word. Not naïve. Wholesome? But not with that makeup. Anyways, he'd have said not Maras's type.

"Coach Isley," Cailla began then faltered.

She knew his name of course, he'd been coaching Tamara as long as she could remember. She'd never seen him other than on holovision though, and there he was always one of the quiet coaches, rarely shouting or waving arms or losing his temper. He could lose his temper though. Every couple three years he did a good job of it and got thrown out of a game. She hoped he hadn't lost his temper now, that he'd just been yelling at Maras as a matter of principle. She couldn't tell by looking at the middle-aged man who could by appearances have been a businessman, not a former athlete.

Cailla took a deep breath and tried again."I'm Cailla, outer right wing, Pendrae Nebulae, Women's Planetary A."

"You're Cailla?"

The unguarded remark was a sign of how thoroughly Maras had thrown him with that 'all right, demote me' move.

It stopped Cailla in her tracks. Was he questioning her name, whether or not she played Octagla, or implying something she didn't understand if she did play?

"I'm sorry," Isley apologized. "I've known your coach for ten years or so now – we met at a conference and I've caught part of the odd game of yours. I had no idea you look like this out of uniform."

Cailla looked at herself, and realized an extra button had undone itself. The top three were on purpose. It must be twenty-eight degrees C or so in here now. She blushed.

Isley did not exactly blush, but he realized he'd better retrieve things or Maras would be very offended. He doubted this woman would.

"Your hair," he amended.

It cascaded almost to her waist.

"Oh." Cailla relaxed. "It throws a lot of people. I braid it and wrap it around my head under my helmet."

That practicality sorted out, she continued. "I honestly don't know what's going on with Maras, but I think," she hesitated, giving him a doubtful look, "he's somehow trying to protect my reputation. Like somehow," it sounded really stupid but she continued doggedly, "it would be bad if you knew he was in my house –"

"Cailla!"

Maras was mortified, and obscurely pleased. He had no idea she would say something like that, but here she was, so worried about him she'd ruin herself.

"– this time of night," Cailla finished.

By the look on Maras's face she was right, but she was none the wiser.

Isley's face cleared. So that was it. A major part of his job was smoothing out the often major cultural differences among the team members.

"On the part of Terra he's from, Cailla, it would be a very serious thing. People entertain everyone but family and the closest friends in public places, not homes, and for a man to be in an unattached woman's home ..." he floundered.

"Oh, I see," Cailla rescued him. "Well, this isn't Terra, is it?" she asked reasonably. "And all that's been going on is that we went for supper at that restaurant Torin has an interest in, then we came back to my place to analyze the last Terra/Pendrae United game for any changes Pendrae made. And the time slipped."

That Isley could believe. More than one team meeting had totally bogged down when Maras got overly involved in studying the competition. He always hated to hurry him, since Maras was so intent. But Daron never had had any scruples on that score, and it usually had ended up with Maras going off to his room seriously offended. He wondered who would be the next team captain and if Maras would get along with him. Probably not unless it was Roban. Team captain was another thing to worry about.

He said, "Well, thanks for telling me."

Cailla hesitated, but Coach Isley seemed a reasonable man. So she gave the glowering Maras one quick look, then continued, "Look, there is a problem though. It's settled into a first-class spring blizzard, and Maras isn't kidding. He'll be lucky to get to the portel in two hours. I have –"

"Cailla!" What were that woman thinking!

Cailla ignored him. "- a perfectly adequate guest room he's welcome to. It can be ready in minutes, and he'll have essentially not missed curfew. And," she continued in all seriousness, "I know the game tomorrow – today I guess – is important. I assure you he'll stay in the guest room and I'll stay in mine."

Mentally Isley shrugged. Even if that wasn't the way it went, Maras was better off with this woman than sitting freezing in a taxi in a storm.

"Thank you Cailla. I think that's a good solution if it isn't an imposition."

"Not at all."

"Good. And now I'd like to talk to Maras." He added firmly, "Privately if you don't mind."

Cailla recognized it as not exactly a rebuke, because where would he and Maras be if they'd kept going the way they were, but as a definite warning about no more eavesdropping.

"Of course. I'll go get that room ready."

***

Cailla was just finishing putting extra towels out when she had the sense of being watched. She turned to find Maras standing in the doorway staring at her. And how long had he been there she wondered? Expecting that the private talk could take a while, so she'd been doing a lot of unnecessary fussing around.

Sorting things out had taken a while, but not all that long, although Maras still didn't know where he and Coach Isley had gone wrong the first time. But anyways, he were back on first string, and not only that, he wasn't expected back at the space station until the pregame session. He had most of the coming day to spend with Cailla, if she'd let him stay around. On that optimistic note he'd decided he'd better stay in her good graces. And nothing used to make his mom crankier than when he and his dad and brothers spent a night watching sports, then left her to clean up.

So he'd gone into the living room and folded that nice soft throw thing. Then he had whomped the pillows, turned off the holovision, and stacked everything from the kitchen on the tray. In the kitchen Maras had thrown out everything disposable and put the rest in the sanitizer. Actually, it was something he was efficient at. When he borrowed that mountain retreat servants made him edgy, so he stayed alone and batched. Then he had satisfied his curiosity about all them plants. Every one was real with dirt, not fake dirt around it.

Feeling very virtuous Maras had gone in search of the guest room. It had been very easy to find, the only open door along the corridor. Cailla hadn't been visible, but he could hear running water in the bathroom so he'd guessed she was probably there. He'd been right too. Seconds later he'd seen her getting a jar of something out of the vanity cabinet then move out of sight again. Then she came back and seemed to be studying what were on the shelves. He'd just stood and watched, wondering what it would be like to live like this, with her doing little things to make it nice for him at bedtime. And he'd wondered what it would be like to take her to his bed afterwards, someone who was there because she liked him, not because he paid her. The odd time things had worked out that way for him had been different, nice different.

"Maras, you're here." Cailla found herself unaccountably nervous. "I've just been getting things comfortable. I've got a tub filling, but I don't know how warm you like it. And there's a herbal soak. And there's even a toothbrush and shaving things. And not," she added quickly, "because men sleep over a lot. My younger brother has a head like a sieve. And –"

"Cailla," Maras interrupted. "It's all right. If you've changed your mind, I can go. The coach and I are mates again. He'll understand."

"Go?" Cailla was lost. "Why go?"

"Cailla, you're acting edgier than a rookie at training camp."

"Am I?" She colored slightly. Maras was more observant than she'd given him credit for.

"I guess I'm worried that you're angry with me for butting in with the coach."

"You shouldn't have done that," Maras agreed gravely. "But you meant well," he added magnanimously. "And it ended up fine, so don't worry about it. The coach likes you real good too."

That kind of slipped out accidentally, that he really liked Cailla, but she didn't seem to have noticed, so Maras continued, "He wonders if you'd like a ticket to the team box for the game."

He stood there, watching her anxiously.

Cailla smiled. He really could be surprisingly sweet, or was that an insulting term to a guy like Maras?

"Thank you Maras. I'd love to go."

Box tickets for the rematch game were scalping for roughly three times what one of her friends made a month. She knew that because he'd decided to sell the seat he had and take his family camping in the summer on the profit. So she hadn't thought she had a chance of seeing the game. Which brought her mind back to Octagla.

"So let's get you settled before it's any later."

Cailla turned away briskly, missing the pleasure on Maras's face at the accepted invitation.

"It won't take you long to finish running the bath. And the bedroom," she stepped into it, "has its own heat control here on the bedside panel." She pointed. "I didn't know how you like to sleep – warm or cool – but personally I don't think much of either the thermal blankets or the electric ones in the space station portels. So I put a comforter on the bed."

Maras watched her pat a very thick fluffy blanket cover the bed.

"But I folded both a thermal blanket and an electric on the bench here if you're used to them and like them."

Maras gave the comforter, as he thought she called it, a dubious shake. Were heavy.

"What is it?"

"It's filled with a lightweight insulator that adapts quickly to body temperature and maintains it. They are a cold climate item – nice and soft like snuggling into a cloud."

"I'll try it," Maras said cautiously.

He could always get comfortable after that and tell her he'd tried it.

"So, I think that's it."

Cailla surveyed the room. Her eyes ran over the control panel. She hesitated. "Unless you don't sleep well."

"You got problems too, Cailla?" Maras asked with deep sympathy. He hadn't been a good sleeper since he left home on Terra.

"No. I'm pretty good. But my mother has real problems. So I fixed this room up for her."

Cailla stepped over to the bedside console. "Here is the contact for holovision. It projects onto the ceiling so you don't have to sit up. And here's the sound system. Speakers are in the headboard, and there's a bunch of soft music pacs in the drawer. And," she picked up a pretty blue jar and removed the lid, "do you like the smell of this?"

Maras took it from her and took a cautious sniff from a distance, then the less cautious one.

"Nice. What is it?"

"Potpourri. Dried flowers and herbs."

"From your garden?" Maras asked hopefully.

Cailla nodded.

He peered into the jar. Ever since reading that poetry book he'd been curious about her flowers. All he saw was dried up brownish and yellowish and greenish things.

His disappointment showed and Cailla had to hide her amusement.

"Dried flowers like that are to smell good, not look good. And that mix promotes sleep if you want to try it."

"Thank you."

Maras put the jar down. Wouldn't do a thing, but she were being so nice, and it smelled good. That was one thing he got tired of on the space stations. The air were so heavily filtered it didn't smell like anything. Even the restaurants hardly smelled like food. Not like tonight when his mouth started watering when he walked in the door.

Almost as if she was reading his mind about food, Cailla said, "And if you're hungry in the night, there's a mini fridge in that cabinet there." She pointed. "I really should check. There's usually juice, and biscuits and nuts and –"

She started towards the cabinet, but without thinking Maras put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Cailla, you're fussing again. I'll be fine."

Cailla stopped, very aware of the warmth of his hand through her blouse. He was right. She was keeping him up.

"Sorry."

The hand was still on her shoulder, and she didn't know Maras well enough to read his face. She said quickly, "I shouldn't keep you any longer past curfew."

With mild regret Maras let her go. She were a real lady. And she liked him. Otherwise, why would she stand up for him with the coach, then put him in the same room her family used? That were a real honor. Mai, he thought with satisfaction, were one smart lady.

What he would do now is soak until he was warm right through to his bones. He'd give that thing on the bed couple minutes so he could say he'd tried it. Then he'd use the electric blanket set on high like he used them in the space station portels, and try to not think about that terrible weather just outside one thin wall.

***

Cailla stood outside the closed door, shaking her head as if to clear it, a bemused expression on her face. Just offhand she'd say she had a new man in her life. She wasn't sure whether to thank or curse Mai. A man who had left quite a lot of debris in the living room. Well, she'd better get the cleanup done now before Maras was trying to sleep. Cailla walked down to the living room. Everything was as tidy as if the cleaning service had gone through. Maras must have cleared things into the kitchen. That was nice of him. She walked to the kitchen. It was in perfect order, not so much as a crumb on the counter.

She shook her head.

"Well, I'll be ..."

That man had a few surprises in him. So he hadn't been talking to Coach Isley all that long. He'd been clearing up trying to please her.

*****

Chapter 27

Maras woke to a number of unfamiliar sensations. The first was one of warmth, allover warmth. It was a childhood sensation, one he liked. Air-conditioning above the minimal base level for the tropical mega complex his family lived in had been an unaffordable luxury, and he and his brothers had slept in their shared bedroom in their shorts, usually with the light sheet thrown off. Space station portels simply didn't understand that kind of warm. The second was associated with that warmth. He was relaxed, deeply relaxed and he had no memory of being awake at all in the night.

The third sensation was the one that had woken him. He smelled food, and now that he was wide awake he could hear distant sounds of food preparation: the odd chink of dishes and the sizzling noise that had to mean sausage. Maras took a slow, deep breath confirming that. The last time he'd had panfried sausage must be what a year, no eighteen months ago at his friend's mountain retreat on Terra. He lay there for a bit, simply savoring the luxury of this pleasant wakening. It must be mid morning and the storm must be over since the light showing through a crack where the blind didn't fit tight to the wall was bright. He must have slept so long Cailla woke up and got hungry.

Maras went to throw the covers off and stopped. It might not be cold here in bed, but by his standards it were going to be cold as soon as those covers went off, and he was naked. There was a nice thick one-size-fits-all robe hung on the back of the bathroom door, but he hadn't fit in one of those things since he had a growth spurt when he were thirteen and a bit. So it would have to be his suit pants and his dress shirt and shiver. Maybe he should just stay here.

There was a louder sizzling sound and the smell said the sausage were almost done. He'd risk it. Maras resolutely threw off the cover and headed for the bathroom. Immediate needs met, he inspected himself in the mirror. He were a mess. He needed to shave, but poking around last night had shown that wasn't a problem. His hair was though. He'd taken it totally down while he were soaking in the tub last night, and it were going to take a long time to redo all the braids nice. He could more or less manage if he had to, but he didn't like to do it; a hairdresser was part of his contract. Well, he was hungry and cold. Cailla would just have to settle for him as is. Maras pulled on his pants, put on his shirt, had a quick wash of his face, and headed for the kitchen.

***

"Oh, Maras." Cailla turned from the cooktop. "Was I too noisy and woke you? You were sound asleep when I went past."

So she already knew what he looked like.

"The food smelled good."

"Here."

Cailla had been transferring sausages and eggs to a plate.

"That's your breakfast," Maras protested. "I can cook my own."

That got him a skeptical look from Cailla. This morning she was looking the way he had expected her to look last night. Her hair was braided, she was wearing pants and the red striped casual sweater, and no makeup.

"Honest. I'm a good cook as long as you don't want nothing fancy. Breakfast is easy. So is a nice big roast. I'm good at watching a temperature probe."

Cailla smiled at the image of Maras patiently sitting there watching until a roast was perfect. That is probably exactly what he'd do too.

"I'm sure you are, but I wouldn't feel like I was being a good hostess."

She put the plate on the table where Maras could watch her cook and went to get him a glass of juice.

"That looks real good," Maras said approvingly.

Things were cooked up real nice, and it weren't skimpy neither. He went to sit down, then a motion in the corner of his eye stopped him in his tracks.

"What's that?" he demanded, staring out the window at a world of white. The stuff must be up to his thighs. Well, knees anyway. Diverted, Maras crossed to the window.

"It was a pretty good storm," Cailla commented, returning to the cooktop. "How many more sausages do you want?"

"Huh?" Maras was still staring.

He'd just figured out that the motion he'd seen were a bird flying to a feeder hung near the window. He and a fist sized red crested bird was now getting a close up look at each other through the window.

"You got nine birds out there."

"They come to eat in shifts after a storm like this. Is the feeder empty yet? They're hungry."

"Me too." Maras sat down.

The birds would wait. He'd check them out better later.

"The feeder's got about a finger of stuff left."

"Then I've got time to eat. You'd be amazed how fast they can empty a feeder when it gets cold, and I think it's going to."

Cailla turned a sausage then remembered Maras hadn't answered her.

"Maras, how many more sausages do you want?"

Cailla had totally driven food out of his mind.

"Get cold?" he demanded. What was this supposed to be? He was shivering, and you couldn't see the ground anywhere for snow. Them birds was lucky they wasn't frozen stiff.

"Mm Hmm. This storm was in front of a cold high pressure zone. It's starting to clear. It'll drop fifteen or twenty degrees Celsius by this evening I'd guess."

Since she wasn't getting an answer, Cailla put in three more sausages. Maras was eating, but he looked like he was on autopilot. He was probably the kind who woke up slow and cranky, so she'd get him filled up and see if that helped.

Just to not have an awkward silence Cailla said, "That's why I'm up early. I really am sorry if I woke you, but I wanted to shovel us out while it's still nice."

"You're going out there?" Maras was incredulous.

Cailla laughed. "I take it you aren't used to snow?"

Maras shook his head.

"Last night was the first I've seen except holovision, and I thought most of that were fake. Once one of the guys was going planetside to visit an old aunt, and it were supposed to be snowy, so I went to see it. But it was just cold and rainy."

His face brightened. "She were a great old gal though, and boy could she bake. She had cake, and two pies."

Thinking of baked goods, he helped himself to a roll, split it in half and buried it in jam.

Cailla served him the extra sausages.

"Thanks. This is real good."

Maras was feeling less starved now and noticing more. The kitchen had a nice, sunny feel to it in the morning like this, and the plates had pretty blue flowers on the edge of them.

Looking at Cailla he said without thinking, "You look real good. The way I thought you'd be last night." He liked her better in braids and a sweater.

"Thank you." Cailla's tone was solemn, but her eyes were amused. "And you look –" she paused, searching for a word.

The one that came to mind was terrifying. If she'd been on a dark street and seen a man looking like Maras coming, she would have been desperately wishing for a crowd, a brightly lit doorway, and trying to be invisible. This wasn't a dark street though. It was her own kitchen, and it was morning, and Maras was the new man in her life.

"A mess," Maras volunteered into the silence. "Sorry Cailla but it takes a bit of doing to get my hair right, and I were hungry." Then Maras reluctantly conceded, "I should've took time to shave though."

Sausages wouldn't have been crispy perfect then though.

"Don't apologize," Cailla said. "I like your hair like that." She resisted the temptation to reach over and touch a lock of it. "You look ruggedly handsome."

Maras knew how he looked, and that weren't much likely. All the same, it sounded good coming from her. Feeling significantly better about the morning, Maras started working on the third egg.

"You really going out there?" he persisted, looking over his shoulder at the snow.

"To shovel," Cailla said. "If you'd like, I'll help you with your hair after, but I do want to shovel before it gets much colder."

"Won't nobody do that with machines or something?"

"Of course they will, but it's a better upper trunk workout than the gym when it's wet snow like this."

"The stuff is heavy like?" Maras asked fascinated. He loved any new kind of exercise.

"Very, and you have to lift and throw it."

"Sounds real good. I'll help."

"You will not! You'll freeze."

"I'll be hot working."

Maras was now as determined to go out as he had been to stay in.

"If doesn't work that way. You can still get frostbite – frozen skin. You do that and Coach Isley will kill me!"

"Them birdies ain't froze, and they're just sitting there."

"They're wearing down, Maras!"

Maras had no idea what down was other than the direction opposite to up, but he figured it was one of those irrelevant things people say to get you off track when they're losing an argument. He closed the topic by focusing on the remains of the excellent breakfast.

Cailla watched him for a few moments, then sighed. Maras was obviously shoveling snow.

"All right. Let me think."

*****

Chapter 28

"Good morning Cailla. What can I do for you?" The lean athletic blond could have been Trevarr's brother. In the background were promotional images of upper end sports and fashion clothing.

"First, how are the roads, Greg? Could you send something over?"

Greg thought. "They've got the public transit routes cleared, but that's about it. I'm lucky I live on one. But if you're off one, the courier might have to walk the last bit, unless someone has privately had the road plowed. Most of the people that have showed up at the mall had to walk or ski partway."

"That's worse than I thought."

Cailla frowned. Maras was obviously going to be house guest most of the day.

"I'm about seven blocks off public transit, but if you can get a courier to come out here, I'll ski down and meet him."

"That's got me curious enough I'll drive out myself." Greg's grin was as engaging as Trevarr's. "So what do you need that bad?"

Cailla was a regular customer at the sporting goods shop. She was liked, and her business was good for the store's image.

"As much really big winter weight outdoor – and indoor for that matter – men's wear as you have."

"How big?"

"To fit Maras. He's visiting and dressed for a space station. I told him Ferdik shops there, so you could help."

"Cailla." There was mild reproof in Greg's voice. "Everything we get for Ferdik is special order."

"Told you," Maras said from out of the line of sight of the camera. They'd been over this but Cailla wouldn't listen.

"Maras?" Greg was thinking fast. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Maras reluctantly stepped forward. Cailla shouldn't keep telling people he were here. She was a nice lady, and it would get around and people would take it wrong. People was like that, thinking the worst of any situation. He always did.

"Nothing to fit me?" Maras asked.

"I can get you thick socks, a very good muffler." At Maras's blank look Greg said, "A neck scarf. A hat, gloves. I've even got two turtlenecks that I ordered in to see if Ferdik liked them, and he didn't, but I haven't returned them yet. All are very fashionable.

"What I can't give you are the things that matter. Boots, pants, and a coat. Will you wear gear?" He asked cautiously. Maras was a very stylish dresser.

"Gear?" Maras was blank. He assumed it were some local brand name he'd never heard of.

"Rough work clothes. One of the other stores here might help."

This time it was Cailla who objected. "But Greg – if you don't have large sizes, they won't!"

"I'm not making guarantees, Cailla, but you're forgetting Ferdik's family has been in the city for a very long time – generations. And all of them – even twelfth cousins – are built like him. And Jonagar's family aren't small either."

"You mean there's a whole city full of guys built like Ferdik?" Maras demanded.

"He's the only Octagla athlete. The rest are too slow, but a couple are pro weightlifters. The rest like outside work."

The words 'outside work' completely drove from Maras's head the mental image he'd been building of a city populated by blond giants, some in their teens not filled out yet, most men in their prime, some old and bald and wrinkled but still solid.

"You mean folks do outside work in this?"

He waved towards a window.

"Of course. On a day like this there may be a slow start while they all get to the site, but that's about it." Greg shrugged.

Maras looked at Cailla. He rather suspected Greg was having fun with the visitor, but Cailla was nodding.

"My brother does outside work year round."

Well, Cailla were too nice to make fun of him.

"Okay. If you can get stuff that keeps guys warm all day in this, I'll try it."

"No guarantees. Give me ten and I'll call you back."

***

Ten minutes found Maras with a very simplified set of braids, and Cailla not outside yet and worried about how fast the temperature was dropping. She'd told him that it was just plain stupid to wear his gold hair tubes out in the freezing weather, and if he wasn't wearing them, he might as well settle for something simple she could manage.

He had, and he supposed it didn't look too bad. It had been real nice her fussing over him anyway.

"Maras, you're in luck." Greg was feeling rather pleased. "This is Opal, and she thinks she can help you."

Opal's image was against a much less luxurious, utilitarian setting, a wall with plain shelves stacked with clothes. She was a small pert Oriental woman, and by her size and face shape she could be Mai's sister or cousin. Her first words confirmed this.

"Maras, nice to meet you. Mai says she's seen a lot of you at Crescent Bay and Auntie says you were in last night."

For a moment Maras wondered if this was the cousin Mai had said were no good for him, or one of the ones she hadn't told him about. Were some, he were sure. She were real cute. Then light flashing on a wedding ring caught his eye. Oh well, he liked Cailla real good anyway – not that he had a chance he reminded himself again.

"I can cover you up and you'll be warm Maras, but it's late in the season. In your size there's absolutely no choice left in style or color. Not," Opal smiled, "that there's much choice at best. You're bigger than most of the locals. And most of them need size for a beer belly, not muscle."

Maras grinned. She were as spunky as Mai. Too bad all the good ones in Mai's family was all gone.

"So show me what you've got."

***

Maras looked at the clothing hologram of himself with satisfaction. Now them was real men's clothes. You could walk into the toughest bar in the galaxy wearing them, and no one but no one would give you any lip.

Maras took one last look, starting bottom up. There were construction boots, and rugged pants with some kind of lining stuff. Maras sincerely hoped it didn't itch. Then there was a roomy, high collared, fleece lined jacket that looked like leather but weren't. He might try to get a real leather one made cut like that. Those were the items from Mai's cousin and they were all kind of beige grey colored. Under the jacket were a purple turtleneck in a wide ribbed knit. To go with it Maras had personally chosen the long skinny scarf with the funny name muffler in a deep burnt orange. He'd seen Cailla wince, but Greg had sincerely congratulated him on being right on top of the coming styles. Were too. He'd seen those colors together at that fancy site. Then up top was what he liked best, a knit hat in every brilliant color you could think of. The pattern was extremely intricate, and Maras was pretty sure it would take him a long time to figure out just how they made it. It looked real good, and if it weren't too hot he was wearing it on the space station from now on rolled up high so his hair tubes showed.

"So everything is fine?" Greg asked.

Maras nodded.

"Okay Cailla. Does twenty minutes give you time to ski out?"

***

This was real good. Maras had shoveled the immediate neighbors' drives and was widening Cailla's an unnecessary meter since they'd finished her drive and sidewalks in no time at all.

Cailla appeared around the corner of the house, a tub of bird feed in her hand.

"Well, the back feeders are all refilled. Why don't you do this one?"

Cailla hadn't been sure how Maras would take to winter, but now that he was bundled up and active enough to not really be feeling the cold he seemed to be having a great time.

"Them little guys sure eat for their size," Maras observed as he began dutifully shoveling a path to the feeder.

As he did he looked optimistically for feeders in the neighbors' yards. Cailla hadn't said, or he could have dug them out too while he were there. This snow was great stuff. He'd figured out how much he had to get jammed on a shovel to feel it, and was now perfecting his throw.

Cailla always just walked to the feeder, preferring to leave the snow in place to protect the grass. But Maras looked so pleased with himself she let him keep shoveling. Once he'd reached the feeder and cleared a nice two square meters or so below it, Maras came back for the bird feed and started to fill the multilevel feeder. He was immediately distracted with the mechanism that filled the different levels. He started pouring three or four seeds at a time to watch them flow.

"Somebody really thought about this," Maras announced.

This delay was definitely not appreciated by the birds. The large ones with the red crests started scolding from the tree.

Maras grinned. "Hungry are you?"

He increased the rate he was putting the seed in, but not enough. A smaller gray bird with a green crest and stripes on its breast swooped down to the feeder, landing with a thunk that rocked the feeder in Maras's hands. There was another burst of scolding, then the bird totally ignored Maras and concentrated on finding a seed to its liking.

"It isn't afraid of me." There was a note of wonder in Maras's voice as he stared at the bird.

"No. The greenhats aren't. They seem to have decided humans settled Pendrae just to take care of them, and they sure let you know if you aren't up to form." She added wistfully, "The old lady at the corner has a pair that will eat out of her hand. I can't get any to do that."

Maras wasn't much interested in how the little things got fed, by hand or a feeder. But that had to mean the old lady fed birds.

"She got any feeders she'd like me to dig out?"

Cailla had already firmly told him he was not to shovel the road. He tried to peer down to the corner against the glare.

The old lady had several feeders, but she also had a lawn that was green velvet. Cailla was spared having to tell Maras first that he was out of luck, and second that he'd done her lawn no good by the door of the next house opening and two teenage boys stepping out.

"Cailla! We couldn't believe it. Our drive was shoveled." This was the younger, a slender blond in a green ski jacket. "We can get to the hill earlier!"

Their father saw no reason to have yard maintenance service with teenagers in the house, and he was strict that chores came first.

"Thanks, Cailla," the older added. He looked like his brother only sixteen months older, and he wore a purple ski jacket.

"Don't thank me, thank Maras."

"Maras?!"

Neither had paid any attention to who was in Cailla's yard by the bird feeder. Now they stared, speechless.

"I think you have fans," Cailla said dryly. "Let me introduce you. Then would you like to see snowboarding live? These two are good and it's only a two block walk to the park."

*****

Chapter 29

Weren't no good! Maras watched the combination warm-up and practice before the pickup game with a deepening frown. He had started out with eyes only for Cailla, but a lad of fourteen or fifteen had caught his eye. He was a big, raw boned blond, and were already beefy. Maybe one of those cousins Ferdik had. One of the defense on Cailla's team were trying to teach him how to do a classic stick check. The kid wasn't getting it, and the way she were teaching him, he wouldn't either.

It weren't that she was no good – she were very good. She was a big solid redhead with no neck and a massive barrel of a body, and Maras liked every move she were making. If he hadn't found Cailla, he just might have thought of introducing himself to see how she moved out of the court. But as it was, he were mostly concentrating on Octagla, and what she were showing the kid. You could tell just by the way he were moving his shoulders that the left one sort of didn't quite catch and lock, but it strained, and tomorrow it would hurt like hell.

Maras knew all about that. Were the same problem for him, and he'd thought he'd never be able to do that check good until Isley got him special coaching from a retired defenseman. The man had been real smart. He knew almost as much about muscles as Trevarr, and he'd explained a bunch of stuff to Maras about how his shoulders was set, and brought in Big Luis who did the check just fine, and had Maras feel how Big Luis were built, and how the two of them was different. Then he taught Maras a slightly different move, and Maras had used it ever since and he hadn't hurt once.

This time the kid visibly winced. Okay, that was it. Maras stood to –

"Hey!"

Maras felt a tug on the fabric of his pants, but he missed the speaker the first time because he looked too high. On his second pass his eyes found a little boy about the size of Kimi. His coloring was café au lait, his hair curly, his eyes bright and curious. He wore a Pendrae United jersey that hung down to his knees over his weightless unitard. Maras had noticed him on the way up. Now the lad had acquired an Octagla stick he held rising above himself like a prophet's staff.

"You Maras?" the little boy demanded.

"That's right. Who's you?"

"Cory."

Maras was temporarily diverted. He loved children.

"You gonna be an Octagla player, Cory?"

The little eyes were all excited, and the black curls bounced as he nodded. "A left winger, like Roban."

"Well, Cory, I'm going to go gear up. You want to come see the Tamara dressing room? All of Roban's stuff is there."

"Can I?!"

The little boy tightened his grip on Maras's pants just in case he didn't mean it and tried to escape.

"Is Cory bothering you?"

The speaker was obviously Cory's father, a slender, mid-height man in a weightless unitard and casual jacket. Cailla had said he were co-sponsor of the Nebula and owned the space yacht they'd ridden up in.

Maras shook his head.

"Nope. I should ask you or someone. That blond kid there –" he pointed.

"Andy," the man supplied.

"I want to gear up and show Andy a little trick that will make that stick check work for him. Would anyone care if I suited up?"

"Care?" The man's smile was as infectious as Cory's. "We'd be delighted – Maras – can I call you Maras? I'm Cory Senior."

He extended a perfectly manicured, well shaped hand to be crushed.

"Great. I just asked Cory if he'd like to come along – see Roban's gear and such. Is that okay?"

"He'll talk about it for weeks." Cory Senior turned his attention to his son. "You behave, okay? No messing with things. Promise?"

"I promise."

***

Maras had raised too many brothers. He didn't believe that promise for two seconds. He had little Cory standing on a chair in the middle of the dressing room and had told him he'd swat him if he got down. So far Cory hadn't tried. He were just staring at Roban's uniform and gear. Maras figured the way he leaned out, if he went any further the chair would topple. Would have already in full g. It had teetered a few times, but the kid had coordination and recovered. The dressing room were mostly weightless so he wouldn't bust nothing if it did go.

Maras made the final adjustment to a shin pad, and satisfied, stood up.

"You really like Roban, huh?"

Mutely Cory nodded. He'd been unable to speak ever since they'd entered the dressing room although he'd pestered Maras with questions all the way there.

"Well, come on then."

Instead of lifting Cory down from the chair, Maras expertly scooped him onto his hip and headed for the communication console.

"Let's see if Roban is busy."

***

"Maras. I thought you were planetside until the game tonight. Who's your little friend?"

"This is Cory, a fan of yours. His daddy sponsors Cailla's team, and they're getting ready for a pickup game. I hitched a ride up."

"And you're playing? Isley will kill you," Roban advised Maras.

"Nope. I won't play. There's just a kid what needs help on a check. I'll show him. Why don't you come up and say hi for real to Cory here?"

"Sure."

Roban knew he was getting depressed alone in his room. Maybe he should be heading home for his suspension, not tagging along with the team telling himself he was staying in shape. That would be even worse though, going home to hear the censure of his family. Isley was going to try having him call plays from the bench, but Roban honestly didn't know if he could do it. It had only sort of worked in practice, and he could blow the rematch if he couldn't do that. Worrying about that hadn't helped his mood.

***

"Well, look who couldn't resist suiting up."

Coach Kharmmor extended a hand. Maras took it, studying Cailla's coach. Looked like she'd been a winger too at one time. Mocha skin, still pretty eyes. One tough coach, he'd guess.

"Hello Maras." She raised her voice. "Cailla!"

Startled, Cailla turned from the passing drill she was doing and almost missed the pass coming at her, catching it at the last second.

Smiling she yelled, "Heads up, Maras!"

He watched her twist and fire one of those vicious passes at him that wingers like to throw at defenseman just to make sure they're staying awake in the game.

Maras caught it, no problem, and threw it sedately back to another other winger as Cailla jetted towards him. Then he turned to the coach.

"You mind if I show Andy there's a different way to do that stick check? It isn't that your defense isn't good," Maras looked at the big redhead with professional admiration and something more in his face. "It's just that she does it like Big Luis and most defense. But for me, and I think Andy, it don't work."

"Thanks, but as far as Urda's concerned," Coach Kharmmor added dryly, "forget it, she's married."

"I didn't say nothing," Maras protested as Cailla arrived.

"I know. Thoughts as pure as the driven snow, right Maras?"

Maras wasn't sure what that meant, but it seemed a good idea to agree, so he nodded.

Cailla's face, Coach Kharmmor observed, had a glow to it she hadn't seen since Cailla fell for that bastard of a businessman. That affair had been fiasco. She looked back at Maras, whose expression was much more indifferent than when he'd been watching Urda. Hell, if Maras was on the prowl, why did he have to pick her team to disrupt? It wasn't two weeks before training camp started.

That expression though was the careful mask Maras had cultivated for years. As Cailla jetted up, he was thinking how good she looked all suited up, how that kiss at the restaurant had felt, even if it had just been for show, and whether or not sometime he could kiss her back. He almost had, playing out in the snow.

"Nice pass," he said neutrally.

"Thanks. You joining us for the game?" Even as she said it, Cailla realized that was stupid, but she was really flustered with Maras talking to her coach.

"He'd better not be, or I'll have Isley on my neck," Coach Kharmmor said firmly. She and Isley had known each other for more than a decade now, and they got along well.

"Nope," Maras said, "I've got the game. But Roban might. I dunno. I forgot to ask."

"Roban is here?" Cailla paled slightly.

Maras took the question quite seriously and turned to scan the onlookers. He paused to grin and wave at little Cory who had his nose pressed to the glass, then continued a methodical face by face survey.

"Not yet. That probably means he's suiting up, not just gonna say hi to Cory."

"Oh ..." It was a barely audible syllable.

Cailla had always wondered what playing in the same court as Roban would be like, but that didn't mean she was prepared to find out today.

She were worrying too much, Maras decided. They'd been watching a holodrama when there was a racket and Cailla said it were the road snowplows. Them things could move snow! After that Cailla had said she really didn't want to miss the pickup game today, did he mind if they went up to the space station early. He'd decided then she were worried she was a bit out of shape for the start of her season. But he'd been watching. She looked good.

"Don't worry, you'll like Roban fine." Maras tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she weren't looking at him. She were just kind of staring nowhere.

*****

Chapter 30

"Come on, Maras. Everybody doesn't feel down on being a kid in an Octagla family like that lady was," Roban protested.

Andy's mother had really gone after Maras for encouraging him. Apparently her father had been a pro, and she'd hated it. She said it was like having been raised in a single-parent family. Andy was starting to play and she couldn't really stop him, but she wanted her son to play amateur at most.

"Look at Mai. She loved it."

Maras adjusted the belt on his cool down robe, then looked at the far end of the locker room. Wouldn't be no one show up for an hour or so. Seemed funny being here with it empty, but it weren't worth going back down to their rooms and getting dressed then coming back and changing again. So they was having a couple of plates of pregame snacks. He weren't sure Roban was right.

"Mai's special," Maras protested, grabbing a mouthful of the protein/carbohydrate blend cubes he swore by.

Roban wasn't going to argue that one, since he agreed.

"Okay. Why don't we ask Larr what it was like for him growing up?"

Roban knew Larr was the only player on the team that wasn't a first generation Octagla player. None of the others even had a parent that played planetary level.

"All right," Maras said reluctantly, agreeing mostly because Roban looked so pleased with his idea.

Maras didn't actually dislike Larr like he did Daron, but he wasn't comfortable around him. Larr were too smooth. He always had that fast smile and some easy way to put you off. A lot of the journeyman was like that. They said hello real nice, but they didn't have five minutes for you. Besides, Larr was fond of practical jokes, and he'd made him the butt of too many of them. Maras had never decided if that were because Larr was making fun of him for being slow, or if it were because he never went for Larr afterwards like his other favorite target, Daron, did.

Roban placed the call.

"Larr, are you doing anything special?"

"Not really."

He was just stretched out alternating between deciding if he wanted to call Elvira or if he had enough woman trouble in his life, and trying to be philosophical about the changes on the team. With Ranga injured he was first string again after his one-game penalty tonight. In a way Larr was excited. Could he ever play again like he had in the Celebrity Game? Could he consistently be that good? For that matter would Isley even let him run roof again? Isley hadn't brought it up, and somehow Larr hadn't felt comfortable being the one to. He suspected Isley had pretty much all he could handle sorting out the lineup changes.

Which kept bringing him back to Tedia. He thought by now he could play with anyone. But there was something about that kid... Larr knew how tough it was to arrive, have one practice, and suit up and play. So he was trying to give Tedia the benefit of the doubt, but instinct told him Isley blew it this time and they were looking at disaster.

"Could you come talk to Maras and me? We're in the dressing room."

Larr wasn't enthusiastic about the early trip to the center of the space station, or the fact that going to the dressing room was a reminder of the coming game, Daron's injury, and the brawl that had necessitated the rematch. On the spur of the moment he couldn't think of a reason to say no though.

"All right."

***

"Well, I'm here." Larr looked from Maras to Roban.

As far as Maras was concerned, Larr looked funny. Now he found himself wondering if he and Cailla had kids, would they look like Larr? Black with light hair and eyes? He knew it were unrealistic, but he kept thinking in terms of cute little oriental babies like Kimi, and now Tori. Still, Larr played Octagla just fine, and he did real good with the women as long as he stayed away from those business types he sometimes chased. Maras didn't see that as a loss anyhow. Why would anyone want to date someone like his agent? As for the rest, Daron said Larr scored so good with women because they thought he were exotic. So Maras supposed for a son that were really all that mattered, he was a good player and did fine with the women. He'd have to ask Cailla what mattered for girls though if they got to the having kids stage.

"Maras, you staring at me for any special reason?"

Larr sat down and helped himself to a handful of protein cubes off Maras's plate without waiting for Maras to offer any. He knew from experience that could be a long wait.

"I was trying to figure out how you turned out such funny colors."

"You dragged me up here to ask me that?" Larr was more amused than offended.

"No," Roban intervened. Larr might be amused now, but he was quite capable of swinging to offended and stalking off.

"We wanted to know what it was like growing up in an Octagla family. In a way, the questions are related though. You see, Maras here –"

"Roban!"

The warning rumble from Maras accompanied by a scowl. He'd trusted Roban, and here Roban were going to talk to Larr about his personal life.

"Maras, be reasonable. I've been able to hide the fact I have a fiancé from the team because we never play my planet. But you're bringing your new girl to the game tonight."

Roban was deciding that Daron was the main reason he'd never mentioned Juliemnal, although he wasn't keen on Red finding out about her either. But he trusted Larr to be discreet if he spelled the reasons out to him.

Larr was looking from Roban to Maras, trying to decide which bombshell was the most interesting. He decided Roban would at least answer him, so he centered his attention on Roban.

"How long have you been engaged, Roban?"

"About two and half years."

"That's quite a while to keep a secret," Larr observed. "You afraid one of us would steal her?"

It was meant as a joke to ease any awkwardness, but by the discomfort on Roban's face, he'd come too close to the truth. It was a distinct possibility Roban was right too, if she was a real looker.

"Got any images? I promise I won't butt in."

Roban hesitated. Now that Larr had focused on him, he was uncomfortable. It was one thing to be showing Juliemnal to Maras, and talking about her to Maras. He would understand. But Larr was another matter. He always went for the flashy girls, and Roban didn't even have an image where Juliemnal looked cute, much less pretty, or beautiful. She was like that. You had to know her for a while. Then you could see the beauty that was inside her reflected in her smile, or the look in her eyes. But a hologram didn't show a sweet disposition and a trusting, loving heart.

"Roban," Larr prompted. "You're making me curious."

"She's real nice," Maras added helpfully. He wouldn't mind seeing the images again himself.

Oh well, Roban mentally shrugged. There couldn't be any harm. He took time to sort through the selection he had, and chose the one most likely to appeal to Larr. It was one he had taken on his most recent trip home, and it showed Juliemnal at her desk. She was the receptionist/office manager for a small medical clinic. Larr should like that.

Larr looked at the image. He saw a slender, mid-height woman with long, light brown hair and an oval-shaped, rather plain face. She was smiling though, like she was pleased to see Roban, and he guessed she was as shy as he was.

Larr echoed Maras's observation. "She looks like a really nice girl, Roban." In this case though, he was being polite while Maras had been sincere and the difference showed. "What's her name?"

"Juliemnal."

"That's pretty. I've never heard it before."

"It came to Kytherial with one of the groups of settlers from Calixa. I gather it goes way back in their family."

Roban didn't like that reminder of home, and he frowned.

Maras mistook the expression as disappointment that Larr hadn't been more enthusiastic. The more he looked at images of Juliemnal, the better he liked her. He'd bet she'd be quiet, and not bully Roban like some girls would, him not standing up for himself.

He said, "You done real good for yourself with Juliemnal, Roban. She'll treat you real good."

Roban smiled at that. It appeared his new friend was loyal.

"It's all right, Maras. You have to get to know Juliemnal to appreciate her. Her personality just doesn't show up in an image."

Maras nodded seriously. "Some people is like that."

Larr was studying the background now, not the woman. "Is that some kind of office?"

Roban said with pride, "She's office manager at a clinic."

"She's real smart then." This time there was obvious approval in Larr's voice. "I'm impressed."

Usually he would have made a joke, asking if she had any friends since everyone knew he went after the business types. But he heard himself saying, "You're a lucky man Roban." and meaning it.

That were better. Maras nodded his approval.

"I got images too," he volunteered.

Larr suppressed a smile and told himself he'd say something nice, no matter what Maras's new girl looked like. They all knew that while Maras might be a great Octagla player he was a total write-off where women were concerned.

"I'd like to see them." Curiosity made that honest.

*****

Chapter 31

Unlike Roban, Maras didn't have to think about what to show Larr. He'd spent hours sorting the images he had of Cailla so they were exactly how he wanted. He'd only show Larr a few, maybe five or six. More would take too long. He started with the holographer's portrait that came with the book of poetry.

"Maras! She's beautiful."

"She's smart too," Maras announced proudly. "That picture is from her book."

"A lady author."

Larr gave Roban a suspicious look. That was stretching credibility. No lady author would have anything to do with Maras. It was a lot more likely this was some elaborate joke being played on him. If so, it was way beyond Maras's abilities, but Maras and Roban had been very thick lately.

Larr tried to remember exactly what he'd done recently that could have either Maras or Roban out to get even, and couldn't come up with anything. With all the injuries and the team so unsettled, he'd been behaving himself. Still, Maras had the memory of the proverbial elephant, whatever that was. Larr had gone to a zoo once that was supposed to have some as a special exhibit, but there hadn't been any, just a notice apologizing that the ag officials still had them in quarantine.

Anyways, Maras had that kind of memory. Now, what was the last joke he'd played on Maras? Larr searched his memory, then grinned. That was it. He could still see the scene in his mind. He'd come to the dressing room early for a practice and tied the straps of all of Maras's equipment together, so it was a gigantic knot. Maras had taken one look at the mess, sworn, and thrown it into the middle of the floor. Then he'd gone and sat down beside it and begun methodically to trace the straps and try to untie the mess.

Larr knew he shouldn't pick on Maras, but it fascinated him to watch Maras's reactions. Daron would have just thrown it all at Eddy and demanded his spare equipment, telling Eddy to damned well get his favorite stuff back in shape, and not to blame him for the trouble, blame Larr. But not Maras. It was his favorite gear, and he wanted to use it, so he would work on it until he could use it. There was nothing wrong with that brain of his except the processing rate either. You could see him thinking as he turned the mess over and over, and traced various straps with his fingers.

Larr had watched until he'd had to change himself or be late for practice too, something very unwise for a journeyman to do. He'd had his head down, working on positioning a shin protector when a piece of Maras's equipment hit him on the head. Maras had excellent aim, so that was on purpose. Maras had obviously finally figured out who the culprit was. That had been the only consequence though, unless you counted a real lecture from Isley. Larr honestly hadn't allowed for Maras not letting anyone else touch his precious equipment, and Maras had missed more than half the practice.

But was he finally getting even now? Larr couldn't tell from Roban's expression. He was amused, but that could be because of his surprise at the image. And trying to read Maras was a waste of time.

"I got more," Maras announced.

They'd looked at that one enough. He wanted to see Larr's face when he saw her in her Octagla uniform.

"Great." Larr was willing to play along. This was proving to be amusing.

Maras brought up his favorite, a still he'd extracted from the game Mai had given him. It showed Cailla making a pass. Just in case Larr were really dumb and thought it was one of the other women you could see, he pointed a stubby finger.

"That one's Cailla."

"She plays Octagla too?"

This was pushing it. Larr gave Roban a look that said 'all right, in a couple seconds the game is over', but this time Roban wasn't looking amused. He looked completely serious.

"Left wing, and she's good too," Roban announced. "That's why I'm here. She was playing pickup so I played too."

"All I did was coach a kid for a bit," Maras announced virtuously.

He sure would've liked to stay out in the court and see what it were like to play with Cailla.

"You'd better not have played," Larr said, but it was automatic because he was now seriously looking at the image. "Wait a minute. Those are Nebula uniforms."

"How'd you know?" Maras demanded.

He'd had no idea what team Mai were referring to.

"I did a full season on Pendrae United, remember? Not just a few months like you. The Nebula were contenders for the women's cup that season. Can I see the first image again?"

"Sure."

Maras was enjoying all this attention. They could always look at the rest later.

Larr stared.

Then he said slowly, "You said Cailla, didn't you? The same Cailla that has been icing Jaik for years?"

"He were at the restaurant last night. He weren't too pleased Cailla had supper with me."

Larr looked at Maras with open admiration. "Do you know how long he's been after her?"

That had Maras frowning. He didn't like the idea of Jaik chasing Cailla. Maybe next time he should try a little harder when he hit him.

"So do you know Cailla then?" Roban was curious.

Larr shook his head. "I've had her pointed out to me by some of the team that live in the same building, that's all. Myself, I like the semi-tropics, not the subarctic so I lived near the equator when I was on planet. But I remember once on the space station Koji pointing her out and saying she played for the Nebula and lived in their building.

"One of the other guys said she was real nice to say hello to, or to borrow something from, that sort of thing. But if you tried coming on to her at all she turned into an ice queen. Then they said Jaik was really stuck on her and was going nuts." Larr shrugged. "I think I said something tactful like 'too bad', but I remember thinking she had good taste avoiding Jaik."

"You don't like Jaik too?" That was definitely a point in Larr's favor as far as Maras was concerned.

"No," Larr said bluntly. "It's pretty hard to like him after you've been around him at all. He has his few close friends, and other than that he's barely civil to the others on the team. As for me, he knew I wouldn't last, so he wasn't even civil. At times he was outright cruel, but," Larr shrugged again, "what could I do? He was the star, I was a second string journeyman."

Larr had never talked to him like this before. He wasn't treating him like he were nobody. He was talking like they was mates. It reminded Maras of talking to his best friend. He'd made that friend when he were fourteen, and they was both getting picked on by a gang of older guys that thought they was tough until Maras sorted that out. He still called that friend at least once a week, his one extravagance in hyperspatial calls.

Now Maras digested what Larr had said. He'd honestly thought he were the only one Jaik went for.

"I could even the score. He weren't nice to me neither."

Larr looked at Maras. As far as he could tell, Maras meant it. That was quite an offer of friendship from a loner like Maras. Larr knew Maras hung around with Big Luis, but they weren't that close. It was just that Big Luis had a soft heart and hated to see Maras alone so much, so he went out of his way to invite him along. Larr found he was touched that Maras would offer to get in trouble for him, because a move like that would get Maras in trouble for sure.

"Thanks Maras, and I mean it, but no thanks. I don't think Isley's nerves are up to another brawl. And you go for Jaik off the court, he'll have the cops on you. You don't need trouble like that."

That were true enough. Reluctantly Maras nodded.

Larr was staring meditatively at the wall. "I hope Jaik doesn't make it awkward for Cailla when they run into each other. You do in an apartment complex like that."

"She don't live there now. She's got a real nice house like Mai."

That just slipped out, cause he didn't want Larr to worry. But he could have cut his tongue out ruining Cailla's reputation like that. Maras looked anxiously from Larr to Roban and back again. Roban looked like he were like Isley. He didn't think anything one way or another of his being at Cailla's. But you could just see Larr thinking all the wrong things. Maras tried desperately to think of what to say, but his mind froze.

Actually, Larr's thoughts weren't as bad as Maras thought. What he was thinking was that Maras and Cailla must really be serious, because she was definitely the goodbye at the door type. He found he was envying Maras. Cailla seemed to be a nice woman. He'd like that, a nice woman, a home to come to; not portels, and at best a week or two and more likely a one night stand. He was tired of all that and had tried so hard to break the pattern with no luck.

"So you and Cailla are really serious?" Larr asked.

Maras found he had no choice but to be honest. "I dunno. It's too soon. I haven't even got to kiss her proper yet."

Maras smiled, a happy, dreamy smile Larr had never seen.

"I sure hope it works though," Maras continued. "You know, she even lined up warm clothes for me, and we shoveled a bunch of snow."

This was not exactly the height of romance, but Larr knew what Maras meant. She'd let him be part of her home life and domestic routine.

"Well, I hope it works out. I envy both of you."

Roban nodded his thanks, but Maras was looking concerned at Larr.

"What about you and that trash Elvira?"

Larr laughed. "I know just what she is, so don't you start on me too. She'll be a great distraction."

Maras shook his head.

"To each his own, Maras. Anyway, I take it that the fact Cailla is blonde is why you wondered if you had kids by her, they'd have my coloring?"

Maras nodded and looked at Larr expectantly. He really wanted to know.

Larr said, "Sorry to disappoint you Maras. I have no idea. You'd have to consult a geneticist."

There had been a lot of genetic drift from planet to planet over the centuries, and it was hard to predict the children when the parents were from different planets like his had been.

"But if we're giving free advice, now I'll give you some. If I were you, and a woman like Cailla accepted me, I'd never give a thought to what the kids turned out like. I'd just consider myself lucky."

Lucky. Maras like that word. He couldn't remember even imagining he'd have a girl the other guys would figure they'd be lucky to have, especially a guy like Larr. Lucky. Well, maybe his luck would hold. Not, of course, that he were superstitious.

*****

Chapter 32

"Larr," Roban asked, since they were finally getting back on track, "what was it like growing up in an Octagla family? A lady at practice really scolded Maras for helping her son – said she'd grown up in an Octagla family and hated it, and didn't want him to ever go pro."

"Is he likely to?" Larr was curious.

"Keeps growing he'll have a kilo or so on Big Luis, and he's coordinated."

"Ah ha." Larr was appreciative. "I'll have to watch the kid some time."

They were headed off-track again, and Roban wanted to know for himself as well. He'd been stalling on marrying Juliemnal until the planet hopping stage of his life was over.

"So, did you hate it like that lady?" Roban persisted.

Larr shook his head. "As far as I was concerned, it was great." He paused thinking. "I've never sensed that my mother resented Rall's choice of career, but I'll just speak for myself.

"A lot of my friends had fathers or mothers who traveled on business, so only one parent at home felt normal to me. And my friends didn't get to watch their dad on holovision, or get to go up on the shuttle to home games with really great seats at the game, and then spend time with the team afterwards."

Maras nodded. That would have been real cool.

Larr's eyes acquired a faraway look.

"The best was when Rall was inducted into the Hall of Fame. I thought I was pretty sophisticated – I was fourteen by then – and I'd been shuttling back and forth to the home games. But this was totally different. I was going to another planet. We went on a yacht, not a commercial flight, and the crew was great. They had me up on the bridge and they showed me how everything worked, that sort of thing.

"Then there was the awards ceremony ..." Larr stared off into space, words failing. He suddenly realized he had loved, maybe even idolized his father at that age.

Maras waited patiently. What were it like to have family in one of those ceremonies? Preferably yourself. He'd been to two so far, for teammates. He was sure that weren't quite the same.

Larr shook his head, aware of the expectant expressions on Maras's and Roban's faces.

"I'm sorry, I can't describe it. I know I embarrassed my dad by crying as much as my mother did."

There was an only marginally comfortable silence before Larr continued, "The real downer came when I turned pro myself. It was hard enough for me to admit I would never be more than a journeyman, but galaxy it was tough until the media got off my story and moved on."

He and Rall had lost each other then. Rall hadn't believed he was giving one hundred percent any more than the media did. He didn't expect comfort, or sympathy from his team mates. Or to be told he was better than he was. They had asked for his story, and he was stating the facts, that was all. But for the briefest moment Larr wondered if one would say "You're wrong there. Look at how you played against your dad in the Celebrity game." But that was only a few precious hours, wasn't it?

"All the same, I'd sooner be playing with you, not Rall, even if he's a Hall of Famer," Maras said.

Maras was completely incapable of saying something like that just to be nice. Larr look at him blankly.

"Why?"

"Your dad were a real top scorer, but I've talked to a few of the old-timers, and watched the games. He was real hard for defensemen to play to. It weren't that he ran roof. It were that he was a lousy catcher. He made a lot of guys look bad." Maras looked at Larr with approval. "You're good on passes."

Roban grinned. "That's true enough. He can even field those wild throws of yours."

Maras didn't take offense. Roban was just funning him.

Larr was staring even harder though.

"Maras, if you like playing with me, why won't you ever pass to me?"

Maras shrugged.

"Waste of time. You can't score. You just pass off to someone else. So I might as well pass to them, right?"

Maras was acutely aware that the number of assists he got had a strong influence on that coveted MVP award.

"Still," Maras said grudgingly, "I might give you more passes with that new kid Tedia in the court. Might turn out he's worse than you are." He looked at Larr meditatively. "It isn't that you're a lousy shot. You hit the net good. You're too slow, that's all."

That was more Maras, bluntly honest. "Thanks," Larr said sourly. "Do you think you're telling me something I don't know? What I don't know is how to pick up the momentum – and I've had years to try to figure it out."

Maras looked at Roban. "You gonna help him?"

Larr intervened. "Maras, you mean well, and I know Roban is one of the league's highest scorers, but we have different styles. We move totally differently. I couldn't be another Roban even if I was twelve and starting over again."

"Know that," Maras said and transferred his attention back to Roban. "Well?"

Roban was thinking. Maras was right. Larr had a unique catching style.

"Maras, lob a ball to Larr."

"Really –" Larr protested.

Maras ignored him. He stood up and got his stick and a ball. Then he turned to Larr who hadn't moved.

"You want to get your stick, or does I take your head off while you's sittin' there?"

Larr gave up. This was a ridiculous waste of time, but he'd humor Maras.

The room was small. That meant that it was a good thing Larr had excellent reflexes, because Maras only threw a ball so slow.

For the first time Roban really paid attention to Larr's style.

"Try a low throw Maras."

Maras complied, with some force this time. Larr fielded it with a curse that had Maras grinning.

"Enough?" Maras asked Roban, not Larr, after six throws.

"I think so." Roban said cautiously, and rose, getting his own stick. "I don't think I can exactly duplicate Larr, but let me take a few."

Roban took the first pass easily enough. Maras was right. It was a good catching posture. But as he twisted, pretending he was about to shoot on net, he could see why Larr had problems. Roban wasn't getting the same momentum he got with his style.

"Again."

Maras complied.

"Again."

In spite of himself Larr started to get interested in whatever they were up to.

"Enough," Roban announced at last.

Larr stood up, expecting to now be given some advice. From a player of Roban's caliber, he'd take it. He wasn't overly optimistic though. He'd worked with a lot of trainers over the years and was plateaued where he was. But Maras and Roban were putting their sticks away. Feeling embarrassed now for getting back up, Larr tried to turn it into a joke.

"A waste of time? I'm a write off?"

"I'm not sure," Roban said in that same uncertain tone of voice.

"But you'll try?" Maras persisted.

"Oh, I'll try. I am just not guaranteeing results. I mean, I'm not even at a beta test stage."

Maras had heard Brys use that word, beta-test, but he had no idea what it meant except it were going to be a long time before anything happened. Asking a dictionary never occurred to him since he didn't use dictionaries except to look up legal or financial terms.

Larr however knew exactly what it meant. As well as feeling foolish, he was totally confused. It was probably safer to tackle Roban. He would make sense.

"Roban, what are you and Maras talking about?"

*****

Chapter 33

It was Maras who answered, an ear to ear grin on his face.

"You should see the software Roban has. It ain't a toy like Octagla games. He can make for real people, and they throw the ball the way they do, and someone else catches it, and –" Maras waved a hand. "You gotta see it."

Larr was watching Roban's half embarrassed, half shamefaced expression. "You have a realistic Octagla simulation?"

Again Maras answered. "So far he's got him, and –" he was going to say Daron first and name all the players, but with surprising tact changed it to "all that old first string, and some guys what's hard to play against on the other teams. Goalies too."

Larr was staring now.

"You have individualized players?"

"Yup. He has –"

"Maras!" Larr wasn't sure when he'd seen the big man so excited. "Let Roban speak for himself."

Roban was obviously getting more embarrassed with each word of praise, and Larr suspected Maras was exaggerating like crazy. If it was Big Luis talking, he'd believe him. Not Maras. He wouldn't be a valid judge of that sort of technology.

He turned to Roban. "You really have an Octagla simulation – a realistic one – not a game?"

Roban was mortified now.

"First off, I don't have a simulation. I'm using one Uncle Barranb is working on. He calls me his Octagla consultant. Uncle Barranb – Barranb Vigell – is a professor of mathematical physics. He says this is one of the more interesting kinetics calculations he's ever done, and he wanted something new to do. He was getting tired of chaos theory.

"He says with the eight sided court, no gravity, the players at times anchored to the wall, at times in freefall, at times using propulsion, it's fascinating. Initially it was modeled more like a game in that while the players were represented as three-dimensional, the ball's release, angle, and velocity didn't allow for their mass distribution, how a player uses their muscles, etc. Barranb is correcting that. It's still somewhat simplified, but he's getting there."

Roban frowned. "What I'm not sure of is if it's subtle enough to allow for that twist you have to make before you throw." He shrugged. "All we can do is explain it to Uncle Barranb, send him some holos of the action, and see what he can do."

"So, he models me ..." Larr was still confused. While he was impressed, he was totally lost on what good it did him. He thought for a bit, leaning on his stick.

"Okay, I can see where your simulation would help you map game strategies." And it could explain how Roban was so damned good at calling the play. "But how does it improve my scoring?"

"I didn't say it would," Roban repeated. "The only really detailed individual simulations we did was of me when I shattered my right hand and had to totally change my style to play more left. Barranb and I modeled all the moves I could do comfortably without damaging my right hand while it healed, studied the changes I needed to play left, calculated the momentum and torque of the thrown ball on all of them, and optimized it. You know – release a smidgen later and the velocity is up ten percent."

That sunk in.

"Oh!"

Larr leaned back against the wall eyes wide, thinking about the potential of such an exercise.

"And he'd honestly try it for me?"

"Uncle Barranb? Sure. He's a sweet old man, and a real Octagla fan."

***

As Larr's questions got technical Maras ignored the conversation, focusing instead on something he really wanted to work out. Larr had said he were fourteen when Rall went into the Hall of Fame. Maras had all the stats of all his heroes filed away in that prodigious memory of his, but sometimes it took a bit to remember them. He also had them all stored on his compad, but it would have been rude to call them up with Larr sitting there. So he pondered, frowned, and ate.

"Larr," Maras said at last overtop of the conversation, "your folks must've got married before your dad went pro."

He'd been listening for a bit. They was talking steady so there was no sense waiting until they slowed down.

"That was kinda young."

Rall had gone pro on an underage draft, like Ranga. That must've been real hard on his mom, being just a kid herself with a baby to raise.

Trust Maras to have meticulously done that bit of math.

"I doubt it was their first choice, but I rather forced the issue," Larr said realistically. "We've never talked about it, but I know Rall was worried that if the team knew he had a family already he'd get sent back to play junior. So they stalled as long as they could to let him establish himself. Their anniversary is two weeks before my birthday."

Maras looked at Larr with shocked disapproval. He didn't like hearing that his hero Rall were the kind to get a nice girl in trouble, or, if he did, not to marry her right off. Maras knew these things happened. His brother Reg who were in college had got a scare that way. But she hadn't been a nice girl. Maras had checked on her, and said wait until the DNA tests. His mother had been real pissed at him; she wanted the poor girl married. But it had been a good thing they waited. It weren't his brother's kid. It were the kid of some married guy in the next complex. But while doing his math, Maras had created an image of Larr's mother as a sweet nice girl, nursing Larr and watching Rall on holovision. He was sure she was a nice girl without ever having seen her. He didn't intend to change that image which meant Rall done wrong.

Larr chose to take offense at Maras's expression.

"Get off it, Maras! The birth certificate and marriage certificate are in the right order. That's all that counts."

Roban made them both jump by speaking. "Well Larr, you're way ahead of me anyways. I'm a bastard."

He watched two heads swivel to stare at him, expressions blank.

Maras found his voice first. "You mean your mom and dad aren't married?"

"That's the usual definition, Maras," Larr said with a warning tone in his voice.

Sometimes Maras could a real prude, and Roban had enough troubles right now without Maras down on him. Larr added a quelling glare. No wonder Roban said less about his family than Larr did about his, which made it pretty much nothing.

"Actually, they are. They got married when I was almost five. I remember it. I was ring bearer. My sister was a toddler, and says she only has a vague memory of violet dresses and good cake to eat. It was rather like your parents, Larr. Mother was due to deliver my closest brother in a few weeks. My sister and I have my mother's name."

Maras was studying Roban, trying to decide if this were an elaborate put on, and why. But Roban looked mostly like he wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"If he was gonna marry her anyhow, seems like he could'a moved a little faster."

A slight, bitter smile played on Roban's lips.

"Yes, it would to someone not from Kytherial. But you see, we're a barely settled planet and we don't have much luck attracting immigrants. The lifestyle is agrarian as a whole, and somewhat perilous."

Maras was frowning at that, and Roban mentally went over what he said then tried it simpler.

"We all farm, Maras, and between storms and a few creatures that like humans for lunch, once they hear what they're in for, most people get scared of coming."

"Oh." Maras's face cleared. "You got to be tough!"

He nodded approvingly. Maybe his brother Klese would like this planet and actually do something in life. He'd have to check it out more.

"Right."

Roban thought of himself, and people like Uncle Barranb who definitely were not tough and the trouble they had fitting in.

"Anyway, they've decided that the only way to get the population up is to have a lot of kids." He was trying to use words Maras would understand. "So, before a couple is allowed to marry, they have to prove they're a good breeding unit. A marriage license isn't granted until the third child is conceived – on the way. In my parent's case, that was in the spring and there was too much work to do to celebrate, so they waited until after harvest."

They sounded like a very pragmatic people to Larr, and he wondered what happened if you fell in love with someone, and one of the couple had fertility problems. Was it tough luck, or did they have some of the best fertility clinics in the galaxy? He'd never heard, but then he'd never heard of Kytherial until he met Roban.

"So how large is a typical family, Roban?"

"Eight or ten children. Some have more, if the woman has a first child young, and is willing to have them over forty. Having them too close together isn't encouraged." He made that face again. "We want good sturdy stock, so that means giving the mother time to rebuild."

"How many brothers and sisters you got?" Maras asked.

"Four brothers, two sisters so far. Mom wants ten," Roban replied.

"So your mom done real good. But she's got her hands full." Maras tried to imagine that many kids in a house.

As an only child, Larr wasn't worried about Roban's mother. He was curious about something else.

"You said you and Juliemnal – did I pronounce that right? – are engaged. Does that mean then that you have a couple kids back home none of us knows about?"

If Roban did, one of these times he might tell him about his little boy; sometime when Maras wasn't around. Larr had absolutely no desire to hear Maras's opinion on the fact he was a single parent. After all, he hadn't planned it that way. The wedding was being planned, the really nice house was bought, some furniture was in it. That was when he got careless. After all, forever was forever, right? Counting days didn't matter.

Wrong. As soon as she was pregnant and she'd told Larr of course it was by him, Orchid had let him know she wanted no part of the child or him. She wanted the house, the furniture, the money she'd get in the paternity suit, the additional money he'd paid so she'd keep her mouth shut, not make up some story to the media. Larr still shuddered every time he thought of what kind of lies Orchid could fly there, considering the ones she told him. He'd paid, and was paying.

And what had he got out of it besides one hell of a lesson in life? The cutest little son any man could ask for. His parents had raised him so far, but it couldn't continue that way. He was missing little Al too much. He'd have to retire the end of this season or the next and raise him.

Roban shook his head firmly.

"No. That's a tradition I want no part of. I don't want children if I can't enjoy watching them grow up, so we're waiting until I retire. The peer pressure is hard on Juliemnal though. Her girlfriends all have two or three children by now."

Larr suppressed his disappointment, and nodded his sympathy. Roban was right. It wasn't something to miss.

Maras was frowning. He weren't sure this was such a good planet for Klese after all, if a nice girl like Juliemnal were looked down on for not getting herself in trouble. 'Cause that's what amounted to, didn't it? He had to think this one out, and he did his best thinking on his back. Without a word Maras stretched out on a bench and scowled at the ceiling.

*****

Chapter 34

Coach Isley acknowledged he was nervous. He was nervous about the remaining old players. Had he rearranged them optimally? He was nervous about Tedia. Was he going to fit in? He was nervous that Marco and Greg would be really late for the game. But mostly he was worried about the game tonight turning into another brawl. His mind had started just jumping from one unpleasant scenario to another until he couldn't be still. So he had decided to walk down to the dressing room from his office in the team space yacht, just for something to do. There was no reason to be there this early. The equipment manager and his assistants would be along in about twenty minutes to set things up. Isley needed to walk though and it was the only place he could think of to go. Maybe it would be calming to be alone in the familiar surroundings for a while. So much of his life had been spent in a dressing room on one space station or another.

Isley nodded to the security guards, walked along the corridor, and touched the control to open the door. Finally starting to relax and feeling his mind quiet, he stepped into the room. He froze. Maras was stretched out on a bench, scowling at the ceiling. It was one of his scowls that would have tightened Isley's stomach into a knot if it hadn't been in one already. Roban was sitting on the floor hugging his knees and watching Maras with an unhappy and upset expression. Larr had his back to the door, straddling a chair so Isley couldn't see his face, but he seemed to alternately be watching Maras and Roban.

What really alarmed Isley though was the fact both Maras and Roban were in cool-down robes, robes they only wore after they had been out in the court. There was no way Maras should have been out in a court. Not with a game in a couple hours. For that matter, Maras shouldn't even be here. The shuttle he was coming up on didn't dock for a half hour.

Larr heard the door and turned his head. "Oh, hello Isley."

Isley nodded his greeting.

"Is something wrong?" He inclined his head toward Maras.

"Not really. We're all just meditating on the various societal norms for having progeny."

If this was meant to reassure Isley, it didn't. His mind immediately jumped to paternity suits. That was the last kind of negative publicity the team needed right now, although he supposed it might be a break from hearing about Ranga and the Kulgalu drug connection. He looked at the most likely culprit, Larr.

"Any particular reason you are all meditating on paternity, Larr?"

Larr wasn't sure what to make of Isley's expression. He couldn't possibly know about Little Al, could he?

"Don't look at me like that," Larr said. "I'm very careful."

He was too. He couldn't afford another mistake.

"I'll bet you are," Isley said dryly.

Once burned, twice shy. Well, that was all to the good since Larr was the player who was the most trouble with women after Daron. Now is the most trouble with women Isley corrected himself. He still kept waiting for Daron to walk in the door.

Isley knew all about Larr's son. He'd got a real earful on that topic from Rall while they were catching up on family news on Gingezel. Rall had shown him holograms of the woman. Isley had to admit she was absolutely lovely; tall, black, delicate bones, a beautifully shaped face framed by masses of hair. What really got you though, unless you were a leg man like Larr in which case you probably stopped at those long shapely legs, were her eyes. They were huge, and spoke of a lot of things. Restlessness, sensuality, passion. You could read a lot into those eyes, and Isley could see why a man could want to explore just what was there. What he couldn't see was why Larr could have possibly expected to find happiness or permanence with her. Those eyes didn't have a hint of either.

Larr still didn't like the way Isley was looking at him. In an attempt to divert attention and act natural, he said, "Those two have to speak for themselves."

Maras's glare swiveled full force onto Larr.

"Cailla's a good woman. You shouldn't go saying things like that about her."

"Maras! It was a joke!"

"Weren't funny!"

Maras returned his glare to the ceiling though.

"Maras is trying to decide if I'm still his friend now that he knows I'm a bastard," Roban said.

That was news to Isley. It was absolutely none of his business he told himself. All the same, his tired, anxious brain couldn't think of a thing to say besides an adequate, "Oh."

That might explain why Roban was hanging around with the team for his suspension though, instead of taking the chance to go home. There might well be some sort of unhappy family circumstances.

His new friend sounded unhappy, and worried. That brought Maras back up to a sitting position. He said, part reassuringly, part insulted, "We're pals. I wouldn't hold something your folks done against you."

"Just against me, right?" Larr said, amused at Maras's inconsistency.

That got him another glare. Larr just made a face back, and to his surprise saw a gleam of amusement in Maras's eyes. Maybe he was finally figuring the big man out.

Maras returned his attention to Roban. "I been thinking it out," he said, stating the obvious. "The folks on your planet sure do things funny, but they seems to mean well. All the same," he added before anyone got the wrong idea, "I think you and Juliemnal are doing the right thing, waiting until you're retired to get married and start a family."

This was news to Isley too, but then Roban was very private.

"You have a fiancé, Roban?"

Roban nodded, still hugging his knees. Just where had he gone wrong and turned his private life into a public discussion that seemed to keep spreading?

"She's real nice," Maras said. "Roban just hasn't said so Daron wouldn't chase her."

"Maras!" Larr made another face at him.

Maras turned to him puzzled.

"It's true."

"Yes. And while that joke I made wasn't funny, what you just said wasn't polite."

Maras stared at Larr as he slowly pieced that one together. Then he nodded and turned to Roban.

"Sorry, Roban. Daron's your friend."

And since when did Maras placidly take corrections from Larr? Isley was starting to feel more disoriented by the minute.

Now that Maras had his attention back on Roban he focused on what really interested him.

"All them kids everyone has, what do they do?"

"When you come of age, you're given a choice between a land grant, or advanced education – or you can have both if you want a degree in agriculture."

"How much does the parents got to pay?"

Maras had no idea what a land grant was, or cost, but educating ten kids were a lot.

"The family doesn't pay. It's a government thing. I mean I suppose we pay indirectly through taxes," Roban said. "Anyway, it's government land and government schools. There's a lot of empty land mass. We have six continents, only two are settled, and two aren't even properly explored."

Maras beamed. That sounded real good, all your kids having a chance to set themselves up.

"And people who decide to come?"

Larr grinned. "A nice rough pioneering life sounds like just what you need for retirement, Maras?"

It did. It sounded real good. But then Maras thought of Cailla's pretty little house and the garden she wrote about. She were settled here. Regretfully he shook his head.

"I got other plans. But I got brothers. And," Maras brightened, "I could visit them some and help out."

"I didn't know you had brothers," Larr said. "Are they your size?"

"Nah," Maras said. "Reg is only your size and Jarad is a runt."

"Why doesn't the one my size play?"

"Tried. Not good enough reflexes. He's smart though."

"Yeah."

Larr didn't want to insult Maras. He also had no idea what Maras called smart. It was after all, a relative term.

Maras was expansive. He hadn't had a nice talk with a couple buddies like this for a long time.

"My brother Klese, he's bigger than me, but he's real clumsy. Wrecks all kinds of stuff. He's kinda dumb too – did worse than me at school. He likes people good though, so my old man got him a job as bouncer at the bar where he bartends."

Coach Isley had this vivid image of an oversized, amiable Maras happily thumping out drunks, a cheerful grin on his face. His nerves were bad enough he had trouble not giggling.

Maras however was lost in his own line of thought. "My brother what's the bouncer. It's honest work, but he'll never get anywhere. He's got a single room flat. My folks sometimes help pay rent, or help him with food, but he'll never see money for nothing better 'cause he likes to stand his mates the odd round or so."

He looked hopefully at Roban. "You got any room for a guy who's just bringing a strong back? He'd get you all big strong kids."

That was the best selling point Maras could think of for Klese.

That would be a very interesting addition to the gene pool, Roban thought. He was small by Octagla standards, but was an average sized man on Kytherial.

"Why doesn't he apply?"

*****

Chapter 35

Isley ran his eyes around dressing room for the twentieth time or so. He couldn't say he liked what he saw, but he hadn't expected to like it. They all just wanted the game over with. He had given serious thought to a pep talk of the 'win this one for Daron' type but had rejected the idea as likely to cause the next bench clearing brawl. He'd settled for reminding them they had to take both games to not be bottom in the semifinals – and they had to win one or they'd be out.

Red was quiet for once, sitting slightly to himself, fussing with a wrist pad. His face was pale under his flaming hair. Isley did not have high expectations for Red replacing Daron as center. Maybe if he learned he wasn't as good as he thought he was, he would reach his potential. The potential was there, but that was all it was at the moment, potential.

Near him but giving Red privacy was the new second string center, Gengo. He was a good man, like his father Li had been, Isley thought. They had the same wiry flexible build. Gengo was competent with quick reflexes, fast to adapt to changes in the game. Maybe this would have him rethinking his decision to not play in the Galactic Pro league. If so, Isley was seriously considering offering him a long-term contract, assuming he couldn't get Cinnit.

As it was, Gengo was here as a favor to both Isley and his father. Li had been center that magical year Isley got his MVP. But while Isley retired then, Li played another five seasons and he was inducted into the Hall of Fame twice. You could still hear arguments who was better – Torin or Li. Gengo had solved the famous father problem simply. He didn't try to compete at that level, but Isley was sure he could. So the deal was he played second string.

Isley moved on to his first string defensemen. They both knew that if this game was won, it would be because of them. Maras had his serious look, staring mid-floor. Big Luis, the party man, was subdued for once. He must have felt the eyes, because he looked up with a half smile on his latino face and gave Isley a salute.

The motion caught Mikey's eye, and Isley found himself giving the young not quite cute blond a reassuring smile and thumbs-up in response to one of Mikey's lopsided grins that was more of a grimace this time. Everyone, especially Mikey, knew he wasn't ready for the role of main goalkeeper for the playoffs if they got there. He was Tarell's sub when Tarell got tired.

Mikey was the option though, because Isley hadn't been able to get a better goalkeeper. The man he tried from their Tamara planetary pro team had been lousy under pressure and cost them the three games against Ennup 10. Isley hadn't wanted to do more juggling, but even with extra court time with Tarell the man hadn't cut it. So Isley had sent him back down.

His replacement, a quiet black with a tall angular build like Aroff had arrived today from their Tranus planetary pro farm team. There hadn't been time to even suit Kevin up for a short session, but Isley wasn't worried. Well, not very worried compared to his other problems. Kevin was a late career player with exactly one strength. He was an unflappable backup goalkeeper. Isley had used him routinely for injuries, and heavily a few years before to back Tarell for eight games when Mikey's predecessor had a bad pull. He hadn't worked miracles, but he didn't fold either.

As his eyes continued to rove, Isley decided that at least Rundell and Mercan, his right wing, looked normal. Ruggedly handsome red blond Rundell was waiting stoically while Doc used a neuroblock on the compressed nerve in his wrist. Isley suspected Rundell had given himself a chronic problem there insisting he keep playing after Jaik had really slashed him. At any rate, he aggravated it every game and by the look on his face it was already bad tonight. Isley just hoped he didn't decide to even the score game after this when Jaik was back from his suspension.

His smaller teammate, cafe au lait Mercan, was being his usual mouthy rich bratty self, apparently oblivious to the relative silence of the room. Mercan was almost small enough to be a center, and Isley had seriously considered trying him there. But with Mercan's volatility it wouldn't work. The other centers would take advantage of it and he wouldn't take a single face-off. At the moment he was asking Eddy how the pool was going on when he'd have to cut his mess of black curly hair to be able to fit his helmet on.

Besides Mercan, second string outside right wing Rishic had a grin on his homely olive skinned face. Isley knew Rishic had twice as many credits in the pool has any other player. Eddy said something Isley didn't catch, and Rishic's prominent Adam's apple bobbed as he laughed.

Sandlik, second string inside left, was quiet beside him. He'd had a private talk with Sandlik, explaining that it was going to be his role to keep the second string vaguely functional while Rishic and Chan moved back and forth to first string. It was a tough job because Pendrae United had a strong second string, but Isley thought Sandlik was up to it, and it gave him a chance to show first string potential. He hoped Sandlik understood that was why he wasn't getting first string time, but it was hard to read the tall lean black man. He suspected Sandlik did not like a kid going on first string instead of him.

Isley's eyes came to rest on Tedia and Chan, his first string right wing for tonight. They both showed the strain in different ways, but it was hard to say which looked more nervous. Tedia's eyes were darting from one face to another like he was trying to memorize the first string players he would play with. This was a rough introduction to the pro leagues – get in the court with one practice on the first string. But that was the way it was.

Chan was still and quiet, his strong boned almost flat oriental face calm in what Isley knew would be meditation. He was getting the first string time he wanted in the inside left slot Larr would have next game, in a game he didn't want. Isley knew that feeling, the life of a utility player.

His eyes went back to Rishic. He was talking to Rundell now, his homely face serious and concerned. He was probably asking about how Rundell's pregnant wife was doing. They all knew she wasn't carrying well. Rishic was one of those players you counted on. Reliable, matter-of-fact, committed to the game. He would get his first string time spelling off Tedia. Isley hadn't planned it this way, but Rishic would have to spell off Chan too, plus do his full second string shift if the penalty subs Greg and Marco didn't show. Rishic wouldn't not complain.

Even as Isley thought that, the dressing room door opened.

"You're here!"

"Would we let you down?" Marco asked, the usual grin on his latino face.

"Yes," Eddy replied, "about one time in three." That pair were jinxed travelling.

Marco laughed at this truth and headed for the bench.

Quieter blond Greg was already at his spot on the bench, stripping.

Well, they were as ready as they would get. Survive this one and win the next. The only consolation was that Pendrae United was two players short on game suspensions as well. Kendrix would bring Calban up to first string for sure. He was a good journeyman. And a man called Henron from their Terra farm team had been at two practices. He could well be Sabian's replacement, not just for these games but for the playoffs. Isley had watched what he had time to find of him on holovision. He was the kind of player Kendrix liked; lean, mean, and dirty. But then Kendrix had been like that when Isley played the cold blue eyed blond, the kind who needed to win at any cost.

*****

Chapter 36

"You totally sure you want to watch the game Daron?" Knett asked.

The stubborn look on Daron's pale face was his answer, but he waited for words. For once Knett was standing, not sprawled in the second visitor's chair. He wanted Daron to take this seriously. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he would intimidate Daron just with his size, but only for a moment. Daron did not look the least afraid of him.

"Yes, I'm sure! Not knowing and wondering is worse."

Torin, in the best visitor's chair by Daron's hospital bed, nodded approval.

Actually, Knett approved too. The return of a bit of willpower and determination would help Daron through the coming tough months.

"Okay, suit up time then."

He held out the hated brainwave monitoring helmet.

Daron made a face, but put it on because he knew Knett was right there. Daron had no idea how he would react if the game turned into another brawl, and it probably would. He wanted to know what happened, but not at the cost of seriously destabilizing himself.

The pregame show started with the slingshot play – him jetting past Maras and Big Luis on the wall. Them grabbing him and acting as two massive catapults adding momentum and unpredictable torque to his trajectory. Him going in on Jonagar. The hit that went wrong and broke his neck. Daron turned off the holovision.

"I've seen the fight enough times. And I don't want to hear Jorj and Kenof yapping." Daron turned to Torin. "I just can't tell – how obvious is it that I took a dive?"

"It isn't. I didn't think you had."

"Mai did."

"She trains you. She didn't see that Jonagar was paid to take you out. She doesn't train him."

"Did you?"

"I wasn't sure. It was a case of maybe ... probably ... maybe. It made sense. But Jonagar is good enough to hide it, just like the defenseman that broke my neck."

Daron stared.

"You weren't an accident either?"

Torin laughed.

"Don't insult me!"

Daron let it drop. "What I feel bad about is Isley having to rely on Red. That other guy he brought up is terrible. He sure helped them lose the games against Ennup 10."

"He's history as of today," Torin said. "And if I were Red I wouldn't count on being first string. Gengo got there a couple hours ago."

Knett watched the surge of excitement on the brain monitor from his usual spot in the second best visitor's chair. Gengo must be a big deal, but he couldn't place him. It was a common name.

"Gengo? I thought he refused to play Galactic level."

"Mmm." Torin grinned. "Let's say Li and I put enough pressure on him that he just gave in."

Oh! Li's son. That Gengo.

"I thought you were a homer, Torin," Knett said putting his feet up on the low table.

"Like to see a good match."

Torin reached for a protein cube.

***

Red looked at Cinnit's face framed by the flaming orange and yellow helmet, into the inscrutable eyes. This was what he had wanted, dreamed of, to replace Daron as first string center. But somehow the dream wasn't the way he'd thought it would be. Ever since they had jetted into the court he'd been thinking of Daron in the hospital. Of the billions of Octagla fans in the sports bars watching him. Of Gengo. How the hell had Isley got him? They said he would be as good as Li if he'd move up from planetary.

Focus. Watch Cinnit's eyes. Red stared into the Oriental face that belied Cinnit's mongrel heritage. They will give you the lead. Focus...

You sure as hell aren't Daron, Cinnit thought as he took the face of easily from the slightly larger man. For a fleeting moment he wondered what would have happened if he'd been against Gengo. Then he was snapping a hard pass off to Koji who started moving into the Tamara end fast.

Koji moved with the same ease and grace as his cousins Mai and Torin. He waited until Rundell was closing in, partially screening him, then passed as planned to Calban who was across court near the wall. All of Pendrae United wanted to see what the inner left winger from the Junior league was like, what made him worth a first string slot in a crucial game. The pass was high, hard. Koji made sure the follow-through got Rundell's bad wrist.

Son-of-a-bitch! The shock made Rundell slow or Koji would have got some of his own back there. Obviously Kendrix had not given them the same keep it clean lecture they'd got, and Koji was every bit as dirty a player as Mai.

Calban's spurt of jets up was perfectly timed, and gave torque that didn't seem possible with his thick frame. You had to have played against the quiet brunette journeyman a few years to figure out how he did that.

Tedia hadn't expected it. He tried. He twisted hard using his slender frame and agility, applied his own jets, extended his reach as far as he could. Not enough by six millimeters! Calban got the pass. Tedia was struggling to get his spin under control and get back into the game when a vicious check from someone he hadn't even seen knocked the wind out of him. The referee's call that would have happened back home didn't.

Maras's eyes narrowed on the lean black winger Henron. So that were how the new guy were gonna play it. Dirty. Just not quite dirty enough to get thrown out. He dismissed the unknown player and focused on Calban. Calban were good enough you had to watch him. Quiet like Roban. An' he thought lots. But he were staying too far out. Tedia would have to cover him 'cause Chan were busy chasing crafty little Cinnit. And Calban would pass to Cinnit for sure.

Damn! What were wrong with that kid? He were still spinning and Calban were using him as a screen. Kid should know better and – Maras tried desperately to move enough to cover the shot.

Calban's shot hit the upper left corner. Mikey was moving right.

Pendrae's second goal at 2:27 was just as easy. The crowd went wild.

Pendrae United 2 Tamara 0

***

Red found a perfect incentive to focus; the risk of spending the rest of the game back on second string, then being told to pack at the end of the game. He got this face-off, using a little twist trick Mai had taught him. Then dodging the startled Cinnit he headed into the Pendrae United end, looking like he was going for the roof. Red could see it on their faces. The defense didn't know what to do. He hadn't run roof in the Celebrity game, but Isley had kept practices closed. So they were wondering...

"Rundell is clear," came Roban's murmur on the intercom in his helmet.

Red's hesitation was only momentary. Rundell was the better shot and they had to be in the game. Two meters from the roof he twisted, made the pass.

Rundell made the shot in one fluid motion that set his wrist on fire. It was to that sweet spot Aroff hadn't figured out how to cover yet. They were in the game.

Pendrae United 2 Tamara 1

*****

Chapter 37

With 2:17 left in the first period Cinnit and a grim-faced Red positioned themselves center court. It was a split second thing, but Cinnit took the face-off. His pass to Koji on the wall was hard, accurate. One more goal and they would finish the period five up.

It was Mercan who closed in on Koji and stretched to make a stick check. They were all trying to spare Rundell since his wrist was obviously bothering him again. Mercan connected, but not hard enough to do more than jar the ball in its webbing.

Koji twisted his stick to better settle the ball in the elastic polymer net and kept running. This would be his third goal in the first period.

Mercan was closer now. He gave sincere thought to giving Koji a slash like Koji had Rundell at start of the game, and see how he liked playing with a neuroblocked wrist. But with his luck he'd get ten and Isley would be furious. He settled for a body check – hard and just clean enough to not take penalty box time.

Koji turned on Mercan, stick up, ball forgotten.

"Hold it!" Maras bellowed.

Were gonna turn into a brawl the way Koji looked. Didn't bring Cailla to watch no brawl.

The shout confused Koji long enough for Mercan to get his own stick up in the self-defense.

Maras watched as they started circling and shoving each other around. Were gonna be trouble. He ground his teeth. Most times nobody got excited when Mercan belted 'em. The little guy were always doing that an' no one got hurt much. Play were getting chippy though and Koji were ready to flatten Mercan good.

No way! Mercan was one of the few good players left. Maras could see Big Luis and Rundell closing in to Mercan's defense. Henron were moving in too, crossing the court. So he were that kind of guy. Trouble coming for sure!

"I'm handling it!" Maras muttered into the intercom and launched himself full jets.

Big Luis frowned. It wasn't Maras's side. He'd cause trouble.

"Got it myself!"

Since Maras was ignoring him, Big Luis stopped. Both of them there and the benches would clear.

Rundell didn't stop, but he did slow down.

Okay, he were there! Maras braked his jets hard and landed on the wall with a bone jarring thump.

"Freeze!"

Maras grabbed the startled Mercan, yanked him off the wall, and sent him flying.

Koji raised his stick higher to defend himself from the new and unwelcome attacker. His heart was thudding now. He'd seen the damage Maras could do.

Maras wasn't paying attention. Out of the corner of his eye he saw motion. He didn't try to figure out who. Were probably Chan.

"Hey! When I says freeze, means freeze! Every damn one of you!" he bellowed. "Tamara, Pendrae. First one starts something settles with me!"

He glared around the court. It would appear they had heard him. No one was moving, except Mercan who he'd sent flying. Maras ignored him. He'd hit a wall sooner or later. He glared around once more.

"That's good." Maras turned his attention to Koji. "You got some kind of problem?"

"I'm not afraid of you, Maras."

The chin set was aggressive. Koji hadn't liked Maras when he played on Pendrae United, and the fact his cousin Mai had decided he was a great guy hadn't altered his opinion.

"Course not," Maras agreed, although he had his doubts on that score. "Now, what's your problem?"

"That was a dirty check." Since Maras wasn't closing in Koji lowered his stick a fraction.

"Most likely." Maras hadn't seen it, but the play had been getting dirtier by the minute and Mercan weren't all that clean at the best of times.

"And you been gettin' and givin' them since you jetted into an Octagla court." He gave Koji a scowl. "You still sore about that butt end Jonagar took?"

Jonagar were still in the hospital, but they said his prognosis was good.

"That's right." Koji's stick came up again.

"You gonna mind," Maras asked in his politest tone, "if I call Cinnit and Ferdik over?"

Cinnit was the Pendrae United team captain and Maras knew him from when they had played together years earlier. Cinnit had only come to Pendrae when there were all the trades two seasons ago. Ferdik, who he'd talked to in the restaurant, was left defense like himself. He'd come to Pendrae United and taken Maras's position when they dumped Maras. Since he was Pendrae born and glad to be back near family, he'd stayed.

"I can handle my own problems."

Maras nodded grimly.

"Know that, but you see, I want to explain that you don't got a problem, and I need their help."

Koji hesitated. He'd seen Maras in a foul mood before, but not one exactly like this. He thought about how everyone on the Tamara team was playing statue.

"Suit yourself." Koji said with an elaborate shrug.

Maras raised his voice. "Cinnit, Ferdik, c'mere!"

They arrived from opposite ends of the court at about the same time and stopped short of the wall. Land on the wall and they would either start a brawl or get thrown out. Cinnit gave Bourara who was watching proceedings warily a reassuring nod he hoped was valid then turned to Maras.

"What's up, Maras?" They'd played on the same team in the past and got on well enough.

"Koji here has a problem about Jonagar."

"We all do." Cinnit kept his voice level, but hard.

"Well," Maras said, "that's just plain wrong."

Ferdik started to close in just in case Maras was out to give his two smaller teammates grief, but at a murmured 'don't' from Cinnit he stopped again.

Cinnit knew there was something going on in that head.

"How so?" Then, after a second or so of thought, "Look, Maras, if you have something to say, can I call the team over to hear it? Everybody is pretty upset."

Maras shook his head. "That's asking for a brawl. I'll talk loud and your intercom will get it."

It was Cinnit's turn to shake his head.

"Someone will hear something wrong, or think we started yelling and you'll get that brawl anyway."

He wouldn't back away from one if that was the way it went, but he wasn't volunteering either. Cinnit had one season suspension from earlier on in his career, and another one tonight would have his file up for automatic review. He didn't want to risk going back to planetary.

"How about we see if they'll wire us for general sound?"

Maras did not like that. He had the standard player's aversion to microphones other than the one in his helmet for teammates, but he didn't see an alternative. He shrugged.

Cinnit called to Bourara. "Maras here thinks he can settle the game down. I know it's irregular, but can you wire Maras and I for sound and hear him out?"

Bourara nodded. He was willing to try pretty much anything. He wasn't worried about a brawl as such. They'd fight themselves out, then settle down. He also wasn't worried about sorting out the aftermath. That was dead simple. The whole lot of them got season suspensions including playoffs, and they knew that. What he was worried about were the galaxy's rabid Octagla fans, the networks, the multiple planet-run sports lotteries, and the even larger number of illegal betting rings. None of these groups would appreciate having the top two teams out of the playoffs. Some of them could have very long vindictive memories, and would not be particularly fond of the official who had done this to them.

Now that there was referee approval, as Bourara went to collect the microphones Cinnit settled himself on the wall. Moving close he said in a low voice to Maras, "How's Daron? None of us can find out."

He had to know. It made a difference.

"He's tough, a fighter, and he's always been lucky." Daron were the best lip reader Maras had met.

Cinnit took this for what it was, a lie to Daron.

"And if his luck has run out?" He didn't know if he'd get an answer.

But Maras had already caught Ferdik's eye. They were both used to being used as massive camera blocks, and they knew every angle the media could, and could not get a good image from. They casually reposition themselves, ensuring privacy.

***

"What's going on?" Knett demanded as the view was suddenly of two massive backs.

"Cinnit asked how I really am," Daron said matter-of-factly. "Looks like Maras is going to tell him."

"Do you mind?"

"Not if it stops a brawl."

He'd give a lot to know what that dumb brute said though. Maras had surprised Daron by tagging along on one of Big Luis's visits then sitting in the visitor's chair saying nothing, just watching every move he made.

*****

Chapter 38

"Reconstruction didn't take. Can't walk. Shakes all the time. Got one good hand and can sort of feed himself. Twenty-four hour nurses," Maras said bluntly.

Cinnit paled. That sort of injury was a center's nightmare. But Maras wouldn't exaggerate.

"Daron's bad," he murmured over the Pendrae United intercom. "Recon failed."

No wonder everyone on Tamara had come into the court elbows up. It might have helped if they'd been told. But if it had been decided Daron didn't need that kind of talk, that was fair enough.

After two tries Cinnit managed a weak smile. "You're probably right. His luck will hold. Superstud has more guts than anyone I know."

At that point Bourara returned with the microphones, attaching them to Maras and Cinnit gravely and importantly like the whole thing was his idea.

After giving the detested instrument a dirty look, Maras promptly forgot about it. He focused his attention on Cinnit. Usually he were all right.

Maras said seriously, "Daron ought not to have got hurt that bad."

Ferdik said firmly, "Jonagar swears it was an accident."

Ferdik believed him. He knew Jonagar had agreed to remove Daron from the game and preferably the finals. But that kind of concussion was a long way from the broken neck and head damage Daron had ended up with.

Maras nodded agreement.

"I were watching. He set up that check as good as you or me."

It were always tough to stop a slingshot play. While he didn't like Jonagar, Maras was willing to admit he was a pro.

"But Daron didn't go in wrong neither."

Daron took a dive. But he weren't saying that to nobody.

"I thought on it." Maras paused, then made his pronouncement. "One of them must've lost focus – just a fraction of a second. Can happen to any of us."

That got him three solemn nods, and he stopped, pleased they'd followed him. The rest was self-evident. His case was made and won. They could settle down play.

When it became obvious that even with Maras's slow style of speech nothing more was coming, Koji said aggressively, "So Daron was an accident. But Jonagar being in the hospital isn't. That butt end from Roban was the most vicious I've seen and I've seen a lot."

"Gived a lot too," Maras said angrily.

Koji didn't play no cleaner than Mai or Torin so he shouldn't shit on Roban. He gave Koji a hard look. How could someone be so dense? Well, he'd have to really spell this one out.

Maras turned to Cinnit. Maybe he were smarter.

"Let's look at it this way. Let's say later in the game you come on to me just like Daron did, in a slingshot play."

Cinnit nodded cautiously. He didn't like the belligerent tone Maras was using, and he was getting flashing backs to Daron going out in a medical cocoon.

"Okay. Let's say it's just like Daron. Let's say I hit you wrong. Real wrong."

The three Pendrae United players looked at each other. Was this Maras's idea of how to settle things down – back off or your center is in intensive care too? Ferdik tightened his grip on his stick. If so, Maras was out of luck and to hell with worries about suspensions or being friends.

Maras turned to Ferdik. "Even if it were an accident like Daron, you gonna let me jet out of here?"

"Not a chance." Ferdik's was grim.

Maras nodded in complete approval.

"That's the way we do it. You and me, we get paid to take care of the little guys like Cinnit."

Maras gave a friendly smile to Cinnit, and missed the look of total bewilderment on the little man's face that followed the smile because he was busy remembering. He liked Cinnit. He had a round rubbery face, and he always smiled and told jokes, and when they was mates they'd had supper together sometimes. Lost in the past, Maras gave him an affectionate thump on the helmet that jarred Cinnit's spine even with the helmet on.

"I mess him up," which he nearly had with that thump, though he didn't realize it, "on purpose or not, I pays. And that's how it were with Jonagar. He paid. And that," Maras said firmly, "should be the end of it.

"Don't know why Roban did my job for me – he ain't like that. Most likely it's because Superstud was his buddy." As he said that, a light slowly came on, but he continued. "But it don't make no difference, Roban or me. We did what had to be done, and it's over, and we play the game."

He looked from one face to the other.

Ferdik nodded first. Those were the rules he'd shaped his career by.

"Maras is right."

Cinnit took a little longer. The icy knot that had formed in his stomach at what he had thought was a threat from Maras was impairing his ability to think. The fact his ears were still ringing from the friendly thump didn't help either. He'd never decided if Maras was more dangerous as a friend or enemy. When he considered himself your friend, you got these friendly clouts and you didn't always see them coming. If he was your enemy you could stay out of reach. He forced himself to think out what Maras had said and eventually he got there.

He nodded to Maras. "You're right. It should be over and we should get on with the season."

Then, partially because that icy lump was dissolving into some real anger, and partially because as team captain he suspected the rest of the team had misunderstood too and thought Maras had threatened him, he added, "But dammit Maras, don't go scaring me like that again!"

"Scaring you?" Maras was blank.

"I thought you were threatening to put me in the hospital like Daron."

Maras was offended to the core.

"I wouldn't do that! That's unprofessional." His smile was replaced by an icy scowl.

Cinnit paled again. Now he had put his foot in it. From their time playing together he knew that being unprofessional was the worst sin in Maras's book, and accusing him of being unprofessional was a deadly insult. He hastened to make amends.

"Sorry Maras! You've teamed with me. You know I'm not the brightest light that ever jetted into an Octagla court. I got it wrong, that's all."

Maras gave a nod that made it clear he thoroughly agreed with Cinnit's self-assessment. Still, Cinnit's little round face looked so worried, Maras decided he could be charitable. After all, he knew what it were like to get things wrong.

"That's okay, Cinnit." He clouted his shoulder this time.

Fortunately, Cinnit saw this one coming and was prepared.

Maras turned his attention to Koji who still looked truculent.

"Look Koji, if Jonagar were a special friend of yours –"

This was possible, Maras had decided. They hadn't been that close when he was on Pendrae United, but that were a couple seasons ago. They could've ended up friends like Roban and Daron, or more likely lovers like Trevarr and Wayd. Maras didn't know. He was half remembering some talk he'd heard, that were all.

"You got a right to be sore. But not on the court. Play your game, and settle things afterwards, in private."

Now, there were a large number of professional security guards on the space station, and most were at the game. They were deliberately chosen to provide a wide cultural cross-section and thereby minimize misunderstandings with guests. They now swore in pretty much every language in the galaxy. Where the hell had this new 'settle it in private' idea come from? The referees were paid to cope with these brutes trying to kill each other, not them. And just where, exactly, was 'in private'? A bar or a portel room? Given Octagla fans, if these guys chose a bar the whole space station could get trashed.

Maras continued in a voice that allowed no argument. "But you settle with me, Koji."

This did not bother Maras in the least. He'd just let Koji fight himself out. He'd fight back, of course. Otherwise Koji would get insulted. But he wouldn't hurt him much. Then when Koji had hit him a few times an' were feeling better, they'd have a beer and everything would be fine.

"Roban were just doing my job," Maras repeated. "He's just getting back from his hand. Mess it up and they can't fix it again. He'll be out of the game. He's too good for that."

What the hell was he trying to do? Koji demanded of himself. One of his fantasies was to play with Roban sometime on an All-Star team. And Mercan? Hell, he was more or less harmless. Dirty enough, but harmless. They'd scrapped then gone for a drink later for years now.

He said roughly, "Look, I gotta think," then turned away abruptly, eyes bright with tears.

"You take your time," Maras said. "We got all night."

He relaxed. Koji would do what he did, and meantime he hadn't had a chance to talk to Ferdik for a while. Just hello in the restaurant.

Cinnit was a lot less sure they had all night, but Bourara gave him a reassuring nod.

It did take a while. Ferdik and Maras had had time to compare notes on a new upper end weight resistance unit, give it a free galaxy wide endorsement, then start discussing their favorite weight units for calves when Koji turned around again.

"Maras, you're right and I'm wrong. Jonagar would be the first to see it your way. In fact," Koji surprised himself by managing a smile, "he'd tell me to don't be an idiot."

He extended his hand. "It's time to call things over and get on with playing."

Maras gravely engulfed the hand offered in his own, then before releasing it gave Koji a clout on the shoulder with his other hand that jarred his teeth.

"Good man."

He turned to shake hands with Cinnit next.

Bourara came hurrying up. He intended to remove those microphones before anyone said something to set things off again.

Maras looked at him in confusion, but he was prepared to be polite.

"Sorry to tie up the game, sir."

Bourara hesitated, not wanting to have to make a grab at the big man.

"The microphone, Maras." Cinnit prompted, removing his own and handing it over to the referee.

"Oh." Maras looked down.

He'd forgotten the damned thing. Oh well, he probably hadn't said much. He shrugged and removed it, handing it over.

"Hey! Maras!"

It was Mercan from the wall he'd finally landed on.

"Yeah?"

"Can we move now?"

Maras almost smiled.

"Yup."

"Great." Mercan gave an exaggerated stretch and moved to be standing not laying on the wall. Removing a glove he headed to the nearest Pendrae player to shake hands.

As the rest of the team followed Mercan's lead the station security guards let themselves relax.

Coach Isley turned to Roban. "And I thought I'd seen everything by now. What brought that on?"

Roban shrugged. "With Maras, who knows? But I'll lay my own bet."

He nodded towards the team box, where Cailla was watching with open admiration.

"Far left. The blonde."

Isley looked up. Cailla. He'd forgotten her. He looked to where the team was now clustered around Maras, generally pounding him and such. Well, if this was the effect she had, he should break curfew more often. He didn't believe that spare bedroom story for two seconds.

Maras tolerated the fuss for about thirty seconds, then got uncomfortable. Hell, he hadn't scored a goal or nothing.

"Lay off, hey! You're the laziest damn bunch of guys I've played with. Get your asses back to where they's supposed to be and we can finally play this game!"

As they broke up, Coach Isley thought to himself, I'd say we have a new team captain. Assuming he could fly it with Marti, of course. This should be quite a change from Daron.

*****

Chapter 39

They lost. Weren't even a decent close loss. They got hammered 19 to 7. Maras slammed the towel against his leg then began roughly toweling off the water film. That kid Tedia were useless. What the hell were Isley doin' bringing him in?

Maras had to concede Red had been good once he settled down. Almost as good as Gengo. And Mercan had got hot in the last period and got two goals in three minutes. But Kendrix solved that good makin' sure Mercan didn't have room to breathe after that.

Mostly though Aroff had played one of his games where he were better than Menzaille, and that were saying a lot. Now and again that boney ugly guy done that. And Mikey folded. It were because the guy they brought in every time Jaik got a game suspension scored two times in three minutes start of the second period. Isley had put Kevin in, and Tarell had been talking away to Mikey but it didn't work. And Kevin never were good for more than fifteen minutes.

So there was reasons. But they'd lost, and Cailla had been there. Maybe he shouldn't have stopped that fight. Maybe he shoulda used it as an excuse to take Koji out good. They'd have won then. But Maras rejected that thought as quickly as it came into his head. He had wanted Cailla to see him play, play real good. Not fight. Well, she'd seen him lose good. 19 to 7. Maras could feel his face burn with the shame of it.

He yanked his robe on and was stomping over to the bench to get clothes on when Chan rose.

"Maras, sorry I played such a lousy game. I don't know what was wrong." Chan knew he had been off. He knew how much Maras wanted at least the league most valuable defenseman and was hoping for MVP. A game like this did his chances no good at all.

"Weren't you. Nobody can play with that Tedia." He pronounced it Ted – eye – a and glared at the young man. "He were bugging me too. Next time he screens me or gets in the way, I check him! "

Maras figured Tedia should have got assists on at least four of the Pendrae United goals.

Tedia caught his name in the babble of voices. A quick look showed that the speaker was Maras and he was furious. Averting his face, Tedia concentrated on pulling on a sock. He knew he'd done a really bad job. But what could he do besides try to do better next game – if he had a next game. Surely Isley would send him back down? Tedia screened out the noise and started mentally reviewing the game.

Larr joined them, looking over to where Tedia was still fidgeting with a sock to avoid meeting the roomful of hostile eyes that had focused on him with Maras's blunt remarks. When he filled out he would probably be built about like Roban, which was good for a winger. But right now he was boyishly thin, and he knew from Eddy they'd brought him up from Junior A, not planetary pro. He was just a kid, with a mess of dark hair, pale skin, and nervous amber eyes that darted around. Something in the set of those slender shoulders and the careful attention to the floor caught at Larr. He knew all about making bad starts. He had plenty behind him, but fortunately none had been at that age.

Larr found himself saying, "C'mon Maras, give the kid a chance. It's his first game, and he didn't even have a chance for more than one practice with us before it. He'll settle in."

Larr expected if not gratitude from Tedia, at least eye contact and a nod for this defense, but Tedia had just stolidly moved on to fussing with his other foot. Kid, Larr thought, you're going out of your way to make enemies. For sure I'm not defending you again.

"Won't." Maras said, then reached for his sweater. He was going to wear the purple one Cailla got for him.

"Hey, that's new," Larr observed. "Classy too. How did you find something your size planetside?"

He knew that shopping for the defensemen was strictly special order.

"It's from where Ferdik shops."

Mercan walking by, pouch of juice in hand, stopped to check the sweater out. He liked clothes. He fingered a fold.

"Nice stuff, Maras."

Red looked up sourly. How come everyone was playing up to Maras all of a sudden? Even Isley, letting Maras go planetside while the rest of them were cooped up here. And he was hearing maybe Maras should be team captain!

"He's got to look good for his girl." Larr's smile faded. "Sorry we didn't put on a better show since you brought her to the game."

"Maras had a girl at the game?" Red's voice was part incredulity, part sneer.

Larr was discovering hourly he had more in common with Maras than he thought, but one thing they'd agreed on early on. Neither liked Red. He gave Red a casual, friendly smile.

"You always have time in a game to spot the real pretty ones, Red. Did you see the gorgeous blonde in our box? Kind of like a blonder version of Hidi?" Cailla had gone to the trouble of prettying herself up before the game, and Larr had been very impressed, both by her appearance and how she was obviously trying hard to please Maras.

Red stared.

"That's Maras's girl?" he asked, disbelieving.

"That's right. She's a bit of a planetary celebrity. She's the Nebula's outer left wing. If you'd ever done a turn with Pendrae United you'd know her – all the guys chase her and get iced."

Mercan was looking at Maras with open admiration. He also found time to spot all the pretty girls in the crowd and had picked Cailla out right away.

"So how come you and Big Luis are the ones with all the luck lately, Maras? There some new rule out that the real lookers go for you big guys?" Mercan mocked concern. "So where's that leave a little guy like me?"

Maras looked pleased, but he obviously wasn't going to be fast enough to field that one. Larr grinned. "And since when are you looking? I thought you had this nice girl you were all set up with back on Tamara."

"And on Terra," Rundell added.

"And Plenata ..."

And Rujjipet..."

"And here on Pendrae..."

"Lay off!"

Mercan raised his free hand in mock defense, but he was laughing. He'd been entertaining the team for a little over a month now with his woman problems. An incurable romantic, he liked nothing better than to please a woman, and tended to be a little too imaginative in the sweet nothings he whispered in the night. He now had women on almost every planet they played at totally convinced he was marrying them, and would propose the next time he saw them in person. Mercan's problem was that he loved them all in their own way, and wanted a happy way out for everyone. The team was flatly refusing to help, and thoroughly enjoying watching him get in deeper and deeper.

Even Maras was grinning as he headed for the door. It were nice to be part of this teasing about women, instead of watching from the edges.

***

Maras's smile changed to a scowl as he opened the door. There were sports reporters everywhere, all shoving microphones at him. It had never once occurred to him until now that stopping the brawl made him newsworthy. So what did he do? Weren't ready. No words planned.

"Maras!"

"Maras!"

They jostled each other vying for his attention.

Maras fell back on his standard approach to dealing with the press. He deepened his scowl.

"I got nothin' to say. Get out of my way."

This had less effect than usual. The three or four closest to him did their best to step back, but the throng behind them wasn't giving much.

Pests! Maras fell back on the second way of dealing with the press. He pointed slowly and carefully to where he were sure Cailla were waiting.

So no one got it wrong he said loudly, "I'm goin' down there. Now get out of the way or I'll thump somebody!"

This time a path cleared and glowering as he went Maras headed for Cailla. He marched stolidly through the reporters, ignoring everyone, and stopped in front of Cailla. Well, there was nothing for it. He had to say it.

"We sure done lousy." Maras felt his face burn.

There was absolutely no sense telling Maras it didn't matter. Cailla knew that it did matter desperately to the team. It obviously mattered very much personally to Maras too. He looked like he felt miserable. The game hadn't done a thing for his chances of getting the MVP award. So Cailla offered what comfort she could. She slipped her hand into Maras's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Some nights on a team are just like that, aren't they? Pretty much everyone is off."

It took a moment for Maras to realize that Cailla wasn't withdrawing her hand. Then his closed around hers with deliberate care – he didn't want to hurt her – and held on tight to that comfort. He couldn't remember when he hadn't had to pretty much get through a night like this alone. You could only stay in the dressing room so long, and lying there in your portel room going over how you and everyone else screwed up weren't great. Sometimes he figured out something he could do better. Mostly though Maras ended up wanting to call family just to talk to someone, but it seemed like it were never a right time difference. So he just laid there or watched holovision.

Cailla gave his hand another squeeze and said into the silence, "You were great though." She meant it.

"Weren't. I mighta stopped two of those goals."

If that damned Tedia hadn't half screened him!

Cailla knew what he meant and wasn't going to argue.

"I meant stopping the bench emptier."

That was real nice, her saying so. But it were pretty dumb, standing here talking like this. The media might be pests, but they wasn't blind, or stupid.

Maras muttered, "Come on!" and tugged at Cailla's hand.

They weren't blind. The reporters all knew Cailla and had implicitly assumed Cailla was there to meet someone on the Pendrae United team. The local media had asked her how she liked the game, and she'd said her usual tactful, noncommittal words, and they'd left her alone. They had also initially assumed Maras had just stopped by to say hello for some reason. But Maras and Cailla hand-in-hand, lost in conversation, was galactic wide news.

Cailla assumed Maras was being modest, and didn't budge. She raised her free hand to stroke his cheek and smile up at him.

"I mean it, Maras. In all my years of playing, I've never seen anything like that. You were marvelous."

Maras frowned. Over Cailla's shoulder he could see the media descending as a mob.

"Now you done it!" Maras didn't exactly scowl at Cailla, but he sure wasn't smiling either.

She looked indifferently over her shoulder at the press. They seemed, by the mix of 'Cailla!' and 'Maras!" to not have made up their minds who they wanted to hear from first. To her the media were a nuisance but a fact of life.

"Maras," she said reasonably, "you're a celebrity. I'm a local celebrity. If I'm seeing you, it's news. Run away and they'll just be more of a nuisance, spying on us."

"Let's go," Maras insisted.

"Better idea." Cailla smiled into his eyes. "Let's get this over with."

She stood up on tip toes, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

***

"Tedia is terrible!" Elvira announced, shifting slightly to get more comfortable as they watched the post game show.

The hospital bed was a bit narrow for both of them, but the adjustable back angle was comfortable. They were about one quarter reclined with Ranga's good arm around her shoulders. She'd have to ask Knett to put in a larger bed since Ranga would be in and out of the clinic for his surgeries. Even once she'd left planet he'd like that better. He sprawled on a diagonal to sleep.

Ranga wasn't quite sure he agreed. He'd never seen Calban make a move like that, and he wasn't sure he would have recovered position any faster. Tedia really was fast. But unless he wanted a fight it was easier to agree with Elvira, and he did not want a fight. He needed her to be there beside him.

*****

Chapter 40

"Well, Maras certainly stopped that fight," Mai observed with a note of wonder in her voice. That still amazed her.

It was after an early breakfast since Tori had them up, and not time to head to work yet. Mai and Rori were watching highlights of the game they had seen the night before. Kimi was getting her first look at the game.

"He sure did," Rori agreed with approval. "Good for Maras!"

Kimi cast the dissenting vote.

"I wanted to see Koji and Mercan fight."

She pouted. She liked watching her cousin Koji fight, and Mercan was a pretty good fighter too.

"Bloodthirsty child!"

Rori rumpled her hair.

"All the instincts of the good player," Mai agreed.

"Just like her mom."

Rori stopped rumpling Kimi's hair to stroke Mai's.

"That's right." Mai smiled into his eyes and leaned over for a kiss.

Oh bother. Kimi stopped watching the highlights to watch her parents. Every time they acted silly like that she got sent to bed early, and it was only breakfast, not supper!

A clip of Chan came up, and Mai forgot the kiss.

"What do you think?"

"Flat, really flat. That new kid was screwing up, but at least he was awake in the game."

Mai nodded agreement.

"Nerves, I think. I've seen Chan do way better when I'm training him. But the whole left wing! Even Maras was off! And where did they dig up that rookie from! He was awake, but that was it!"

Rori took a last sip of his coffee and set the mug down.

"Well, we watched them lose last night. We can finish watching the highlights with Kimi after supper."

If he dropped Meku off at kindergarten a few minutes early he could catch up on some admin work. Kimi was due to come to the marina with him.

"Call Maras!" Kimi protested. "I want to call Maras."

Mai wavered. She wouldn't mind finding out how he and Cailla were doing. Her cousin had said the supper went fine, but she hadn't heard from Maras or Cailla.

"He might be at practice, Kimi." She gave Rori and appealing look. "Is there time?"

Rori gave in with good grace. "Sure Mai. I'll clean up."

It was her week to clean up before work, and his to drop Meku off and take Kimi, but he knew the problems with Tori were getting to Mai. A scene with Kimi would be the last straw.

"So what is the family line? Do we feel bad Tamara disgraced themselves, or glad Koji won? He had his best night ever."

"Well!" Mai said in total disgust. "Tamara had the worst play I've seen from them in years, and I thought they were lousy those games against Ennup 10! Mercan had a good night, but Koji was all over him. And Rundell was off. You could tell his wrist is really bothering him."

"I take it then," Rori said, "we are being disgusted with Tamara, not pleased for Pendrae?" Since Tamara started coming to the clinic Mai had largely shifted loyalties. "In that case, go give Maras some sympathy or criticism. Take your pick"

Mai nodded and rose, "Come on Kimi, let's call Maras now."

Rori turned to the post game show for something in the background while he cleared up. They hadn't watched any of it last night.

"No sympathy. There aren't any excuses," Mai said firmly. She headed for the door.

"Mai!"

Rori was staring at the screen.

"What now?"

"Come look."

The background image to the commentators was Maras being very sensuously kissed by a gorgeous blonde.

"Is this your friend?"

Now that Rori thought about it, when he'd gone running with Ralin before breakfast, Ralin had laughed and agreed the game was lousy, but don't forget to catch the post game show. He'd refused to say more than that, and Rori had forgotten until now.

"Cailla?"

Mai was so shocked she wasn't sure. She hadn't seen Cailla all fancied up like that for years. Then the commentators started going on about MVP candidate Maras, and Cailla the lead scorer last season for the Nebula, so it had to be.

Kimi sat down at her mother's feet with a plop. Maras had a girlfriend? But she was his girlfriend. Every time he came to visit, he said 'How's my best girl?' and he lifted her way way up. Her thumb went into her mouth, something that hadn't happened for a long time now.

"Well, I'll be! Maras and Cailla! Come on Kimi. Let's call Maras!"

"No!"

Kimi stayed put. Her whole attention was on the holovision. Now Maras was standing with his arm around the woman and a big smile on his face.

Mai misunderstood. "You can watch later, Kimi. Let's call."

"No!"

Her thumb went back in her mouth, and a hot angry tear trickled down her cheek.

"Kimi ..." There was a warning note in Mai's voice.

Rori shook his head. He could see Kimi's face.

"I think," he said slowly, "Kimi's jealous."

"That's ridiculous!"

"No doubt," Rori said diplomatically.

If she was, it was just one more thing she'd inherited from her mother. Mai flatly refused to acknowledge a jealous streak, and Rori had just learned to never take attractive women out sailing alone with him, even married ones like Mitra or Brys.

Rori knelt by his daughter, gently taking the thumb out of her mouth.

"Kimi, don't you like Maras's new friend?"

"I'm his friend!"

"But you have other friends. You play with Andy and Carla and Tyler," they were her age, "and Larr and Roban and Chett." It seemed a good idea to have adult males, and teammates of Maras's on the list. "So Maras can have other friends too."

"No." Kimi was quite sure she did not like that blonde. "I'm his best girl."

"This is ridiculous," Mai repeated. "I am not having this child sulking for weeks along with Tori waking up crying every few hours. Kimi I don't care if you tell Maras off. You can tell him he shouldn't have stopped the fight, they played a lousy game, and you hate his girlfriend. But you're talking to him."

***

"Maras," Mai was all delighted, teasing smiles, "I thought you and Cailla were just having supper!"

Maras grinned, partly embarrassed but mostly pleased.

"She's real nice, Mai."

They had gone for supper, and he'd introduced her to Big Luis and Larr and Roban.

"So what –"

Maras wanted no part of a bunch of snoopy girl talk. "Is Tori doing any better?"

"No."

Mai was trying to decide whether or not to try again to find out what had happened. Knowing Maras, it was a total waste of time. She'd call Cailla after work.

"And where is my best girl, Kimi?"

Maras always liked visiting Kimi. She was so cute and real easy to talk to.

"Sitting on the floor. Kimi is tired and cranky today."

Mai looked beyond the camera's range.

"Kimi, come say hello to Maras."

"No!"

Her thumb just came out just that long.

"All right," Mai said. " We'll put you to bed for a nap instead of you going to the marina." Trevarr was being very flexible with Tori acting up.

"It's not bedtime!"

Mai rolled her eyes. "Maybe Tori has got her short of sleep too. First she has to call you, then she sits on the floor and says 'No!'. Rori says she's jealous of Cailla." Mai giggled at the absurdity of that.

Maras however, did not. He took children very seriously, and the things they said literally. He looked in the direction Mai had.

"Kimi, won't you come tell me what's wrong?"

Kimi wavered. Maras looked like he cared. And he had still called her his best girl.

"C'mere, Kimi. I know you're there," Maras coaxed.

"Don't bother, Maras. One little girl needs some sleep, that's all."

Mai's threat of bed was more effective than Maras's coaxing. Thumb firmly in mouth, Kimi came.

"Hey," Maras asked gently because he could see the tear tracks, "what's that you're eating?"

Kimi just stared with big teary eyes.

"Was I supposed to ask you first before I dated Cailla?" Maras asked quite seriously. "I'm sorry if I should have."

He shouldn't have asked. He shouldn't have anything to do with that woman. The thumb came out.

"I'm your best girl. You said so." Her little eyes were hurt.

"You sure are, Kimi," Maras agreed gravely. "And you always will be." He chuckled suddenly, "Except sometime you'll grow up and decide Maras is an old man and you won't want nothing to do with me."

Kimi shook her head violently, denying she could ever be the un-loyal one.

"But Kimi, Cailla isn't the same kind of friend. You and me's mates, like the guys I play with, only better. Cailla – well, her and me's like your mom and dad. That's different."

He studied the little face that was prepared to be hurt again.

"You don't understand. But you will, when you're thirteen or fourteen, and as pretty as your mom, and all the boys are trying to steal a kiss."

It wasn't exactly the way Mai remembered being thirteen. She'd been plain and scrawny, and hadn't had the start of a figure until she was fifteen. But Maras's version was flattering and she rewarded him with a beaming smile.

Mai's smile was a little ragged around the edges Maras decided.

"Mai, you gotta be beat. A baby that won't sleep is rough. Why don't you go put your feet up? Me and Kimi will have a nice visit until –" Maras looked at his massive wristcuff – "when's she got to go?"

"8:30. But I think I should be late at the clinic and she should sleep."

"I'm not going to bed!"

The thumb went back in.

"Cranky," Mai reiterated.

"Hey, Kimi. How's you gonna be a good strong Octagla player acting like that?"

"Girls don't play Octagla," Kimi said sulkily, deciding to air all her grievances at once. "Boys do, like Tori."

Everybody was saying how great Tori would be. All they did was fuss over Tori.

Maras and Mai stared at each other.

"Where did she get that from?" Maras demanded.

"I have no idea!"

"Don't you watch the Nebula with her?"

Mai thought about that.

"I suppose not. She knows everyone on Tamara, so we watch your games with her."

"Well, you go have that little rest, and Kimi and I'll sort things out."

Relieved, Mai trotted off. Fifteen minutes with Rori to herself would be a luxury even doing housework. Meku could go to her room and read a book or draw.

"Kimi," Maras said. "You know your mama plays center. She did at the Celebrity Game. You were there."

"That was just for fun. She works at a clinic. And," Kimi headed off another objection, "Rhea flies Genies, she doesn't play Octagla."

"And before Mai came to Gingezel to work at Trevarr's clinic, she played pro center for a team called the Nebula. It's a planetary team on Pendrae, but she was good enough to go Galactic Pro center like Torin – or Daron."

Maras rather hated to mention Superstud as an example, but his playing would be real to Kimi. She'd probably never seen holos of games with Torin.

Kimi was temporarily diverted. "I like Cinnit better," she said, admitting disloyalty to Tamara. "He's funny." Cinnit made good faces.

Maras chuckled. "Sure is. Want to see a few minutes of the Nebula?"

Kimi nodded, and sat there totally entranced. This was a real Octagla game, and both teams were women. They played good too.

Maras kept her company, watching contentedly. He never got tired of watching Cailla. When the short segment of game was over, he tactfully did not mention to Kimi that she'd been watching Cailla. Instead he asked, "So what position you gonna play?"

"Defense! Like you." Kimi beamed at her hero.

"It's real good," Maras agreed. "But you never know, Kimi. You might turn out a center, like your mama and Uncle Torin. Sometimes them things run in a family. Center is good too."

Kimi considered the suggestion.

"They go fast."

That was good. And when the defenseman grabbed them, and threw them real hard in a slingshot play it would be like getting lifted way up, only better.

"Center is good too," she conceded.

Maras decided this was a good time to help Mai out a bit.

"But you know Kimi, if you're gonna end up a good Octagla player, you gotta listen to the coach and the trainer. They's smarter than you are, and they'll help you get real good."

Kimi nodded. She liked Coach Isley.

"Well, right now Mai is your coach and your trainer. She knows what will grow you up strong. And when she says it's curfew, it's curfew. You don't cut up, here me?"

Kimi nodded solemn agreement, then asked, "What's curfew?"

"Curfew is when the coach says go to bed."

Kimi blinked back tears and her thumb went back in her mouth. Maras was just another grown-up. He'd set her up.

"Hey, Kimi. That thumb the best tasting thing around lately? What's wrong now?"

"Nobody tells you to go to bed!"

"How much you want to bet on that? You got an allowance?"

Kimi nodded proudly. "Since last month."

"Well, unless you want to make a bet and lose that allowance for a week, I wouldn't be so sure, kid."

"You mean you got – curfew?" The word sounded strange on her tongue.

"Yup. When we're in training, and before a big game. Or a time like now when we played lousy, and the coach is real pissed and going to give us a practice in the morning at six."

"Coach Isley is making you all go to bed early because you were bad?" Kimi was wide-eyed.

Maras actually laughed. "I suppose you's right. But there's more to it than that, Kimi. We weren't just bad. We stunk. And it will take lots and lots of hard work to fix that. You can't work tired. So you got to sleep." He peered at Kimi. "Little girls too. You a tiny bit tired?"

"A little," Kimi conceded with a huge yawn. "Is it curfew time?"

"We got five minutes," Maras said carefully consulting his wrist. "So how's them fish doing?"

"Real good," Kimi said enthusiastically. "Lightning, the long blue one, he tries to catch the little ones and eat them."

"Can he? Them little guys was fast."

"No chance," Kimi said, then added, "I'm finding them bugs."

"That's nice," Maras said.

A little fresh food probably wouldn't kill them, and it would keep Kimi busy catching bugs.

"They like 'em?"

"Mostly, but not the little gray ants." That was too bad too, there was lots of ants near the sandbox.

"Maybe they don't taste so good," Maras said, then scowled, realizing his mistake.

But Kimi was making a face too, nodding seriously in agreement.

"I checked 'em out. They're terrible!"

***

Mai was only two minutes late coming to break up Maras and Kimi, but no one was there. Puzzled, she continued down the hall to the first door and stepped in.

"Oh, Meku, isn't Kimi here?" Her oldest daughter was intent on a drawing of a sailboat. "It's time to get you to kindergarten."

Without looking up Meku said, "Kimi came and said she was taking a nap. That she's in training and on curfew."

Mai went over to look at the picture.

"Oh Meku, I love the angle the sail is at, and those cliffs off at the side."

Meku beamed. She was shy, and rarely answered praise.

Mai kissed the sleek black hair.

"Start getting ready for school now, okay?"

"I'm almost done."

"All right. I'll check in two minutes." Meku was never trouble.

Mai left, and went to Kimi's bedroom door. It was mostly closed and she pushed it it open, expecting to find Kimi watching the fish, or playing with a toy. But Kimi was in bed fast asleep. Her thumb wasn't even in her mouth because both arms were around a ragged old jersey of Maras's she slept with like a stuffed toy.

"Curfew! Well, I'll be." Mai whispered, then went to get Rori. He had to see this. Then she'd have Rori drop Meku at kindergarten, and she'd call Trevarr and say she was going to get a couple hours of sleep herself.

*****

Chapter 41

Chuckling to himself, Maras disconnected from Kimi. She were right too, cute little thing. Isley sent 'em to bed early because they was bad. And had got them up at 6:00 to practice too. Maras cautiously flexed his right shoulder. Isley weren't just mad, he were really pissed. He'd have kept them there all morning except for the game tomorrow. Couldn't risk space sick in overtime though, and too many hours in the court in too few days done that. At least Isley had some sense. He were dropping that Tedia back to second string with Sandlik!

Maybe he should take a look at what pictures got on the networks like Mai said. Maras hadn't tried last night. Not with the 6:00 practice. They'd had supper, then Cailla had gone back planetside, and he'd gone to sleep. That were a mystery. Usually a bad game like that and he didn't sleep. His mind ran it over and over. But he'd slept.

An hour later Maras had checked the main networks and made copies of all the images he liked, plus his favorite versions of the interview they'd given. Cailla sure looked pretty in all of them.

She talked good too. He'd followed his agents advice. 'When you think you'll just put your foot in your mouth, keep your mouth shut.' Maras hadn't said a word, just stood there nervous like with an arm around Cailla. But she'd said lots of pretty words, and smiled a lot. But when you thought about it, she didn't say a thing. She were real good with those press pests.

His call tone sounded. Ferdik? Ferdik never called him, not even when they played on the same team. They was mates, but they talked over a beer when they ran into each other. Maras answered the call, then grinned. Ferdik were wearing a green sweater just like his new purple one.

"Maras, I just thought I'd better warn you. Jaik has seen those images of Cailla kissing you that are all over the networks." Ferdik chuckled. "He's livid."

Then his smile faded. "If I were you I'd really watch him in the court tomorrow night. Bourara is a good ref, but he can't see everything."

"Thanks."

Maras expected Ferdik to disconnect. After all, it was between key games and they was opponents.

"I've got a girl myself I'm getting serious about. Sophi and Cailla and I went to high school together. Want to see some images of her?"

She were pretty. Not as pretty as Cailla, but pretty and blonde. Looked like a nice girl too.

"What does she do?"

"She's a nurse at one of the big hospitals."

Maras nodded approval. "That's real good. She'll know bruises and pulls."

"Nobody gives massage like Sophi," Ferdik agreed. "If you've got some time, I think I can hunt up some old images from high school. They aren't on my compad, but I think I know where they're stored.

Ferdik didn't. It took the better part of an hour and lots of swearing to find them, but Maras didn't mind. He saw lots of interesting images in the meantime as Ferdik shoved pacs in to see what was on them. Ferdik's mom on her birthday 10 years ago, a dog Ferdik had as a kid, him in Octagla gear at about sixteen. And he eventually ended up with some real cute images of Cailla as a kid.

The call tone sounded just as he was putting his compad away.

"You've been talking!" Larr said.

Maras blinked. Larr had been waiting for him to finish talking? "Ferdik called. Said to watch out for Jaik after that interview. He had images of Cailla as a kid." Maras grinned. "She were cute then."

"I'd like to see them. You doing anything?"

"Gotta call my brother while the time is right."

There was messages both from his dad and Reg snooping who the blonde was, but his dad would be asleep now from working at the bar.

"I'll come down in a bit."

***

"Maras! Who is that hot babe? We've all been wondering."

Reg was in his room, but Maras knew he shared a college dorm with eight other engineers. Looked like Reg were studying. That were good.

"Name's Cailla," Maras said, although the whole galaxy knew that by now. "She's a real good winger."

Now, Reg and the guys at college were all smart. Maybe they'd like she was a poet. "She writes poetry too. Want me to send you her book?"

"Wow," Reg said, impressed. "Beauty, brains, and an Octagla player. You sure lucked out. By any chance is she pleasant too?" He'd almost said nice, then realized just in time that not nice women to Maras were hookers so he wouldn't get a sensible answer. "You know, easy to talk to and such."

"She's real pleasant." Maras hesitated. Reg was his best brother so maybe ...

"Out with it."

"I stayed at her house, 'cause of a snowstorm. She cooked a real good breakfast and we even shoveled snow."

Maras watched Reg grin. He'd better correct that look on Reg's face. "You think wrong things about a nice woman like her, and I'll thump you when I get home! I slept in the room her brother uses when he stays there."

Reg let it drop. He'd decide if he believed Maras later.

"Well, good luck in the game tomorrow!" Reg knew how cheap Maras was on calls, and this was longer than he'd expected.

***

"You sure picked some time for a first real hot kiss!" Larr was grinning as he claimed the best chair. "Has the chaos died down yet? You said you had your brother to call. Which one?"

"Reg, the one at college. He and the guys in his dorm was snoopy."

Larr nodded, looked at the bare table beside his chair and walked to the cater unit, moving slowly. "Good thing there's a game tomorrow or Isley would have tried to kill us."

"You didn't even play last night and he worked you."

"Guess he didn't want to play favorites." Bag of salty snacks in hand, Larr walked over to the holovision. "Want to see what's new?"

***

"That wasn't bad!" Larr said as the credits appeared.

"Liked them climbing that cliff," Maras agreed. " Figure there's cliffs like that on Kytherial?"

"Bound to be." Larr looked at his time strip. "And speaking of Kytherial, I should go see if Roban and this uncle of his got anywhere."

"Will for sure," Maras said with conviction. "His Uncle Barranb is real smart."

"Nice too," Larr said, thinking of the cheerful aged academic. He'd been expecting to be charged a fortune; he was getting used to being taken to the cleaners. But Barranb had waved off questions of payment saying he'd enjoy a fresh challenge – he knew Roban's style pretty well by now.

"Well, I've got to go." Larr cautiously rose. "Think Isley overdid it this time? Or will we be moving for the game tomorrow?"

Maras grinned. He'd heard complaints like that since he started playing.

"Moving, complaining."

"That's about right." Larr left.

Maras sat, just looking at the closed door for a while. Larr were working up to telling him something. But he figured it would take a week or so.

*****

Chapter 42

Tedia started at the call tone and paused the holovision where he was re-watching the game, seeing himself make one mistake after another. Other than calling his mother to assure her he was safely here, he hadn't received or placed a call since leaving Laurion. He had woken to find a message from his father. It was unanswered and unopened, and Tedia intended to leave it that way. He knew he'd blown his chance to go pro. The lecture could wait until he got home. This was a local space station identifier, but it didn't mean a thing to him. It wasn't the one the team used to send text messages.

"Hello?" Tedia's cautious expression became a smile as Marco's face appeared.

"If you're still moving, come on down to my room for a beer with Greg and I."

Marco didn't ask if Tedia was doing anything. The kid was obviously more of a loner than Ranga. He smiled more, a nervous smile, and said less. Right now the smile was a mix of nervous, wary, and slightly blank like he didn't understand the invite.

Marco shifted to latino. "You're latino like us – heard you swearing in practice this morning. And you just got here, called in for the games like us. So Greg and I figured you could stand some company. We know what it's like to not really know anyone. We're the penalty and injury subs. We're used to getting here an hour before a game if we're lucky, playing, and sleeping on the way home. Hanging around is weird."

He gave Tedia his friendly smile. "Who knows? We might even see playoffs this time. That would be something! Be part of going for the three-peat!"

Tedia found himself relaxing a bit, and smiled back.

"I'll come down. Thank you."

***

As Tedia walked into the room three down from his, he gave Marco a closer look than he had in the locker room. Marco had the standard winger's build, but he was filled out, solid. And he was old – he must be twenty seven. He had olive skin, brown eyes, and cropped curly hair. Then Tedia realized Marco was examining him too, and quickly looked past him to Greg.

Greg gave him a nod without smiling or moving from his chair. He was blond, maybe twenty-four, with thick mid-length hair. Tedia wasn't offended by the nod. Greg's left cheek was solid bruise from the rematch game. Tedia had found that interesting. Greg hadn't so much as taken a swing at the other guy.

"I get paid to fill in, not sit in the penalty box," Greg said in response to Tedia's scrutiny, his voice slurred by the swelling.

"Sorry if I stared, Señor Greg." Tedia blushed. "But that was quite the butt end to the face."

Greg gave a cautious shrug. "No stitches, no dental work."

Marco turned from opening the fridge.

"Isley brings Greg in when he knows there will be trouble. Greg doesn't fight," he said with a significant wink. "What beer do you drink?"

So, Señor Greg knew when a referee wasn't looking. And he was tough enough to accept that kind of abuse and not retaliate on the spot.

"You got Laurion Gold?"

It was the planet's most popular brand. Tedia wasn't used to beer this early in the afternoon, but he didn't want to seem unsophisticated to these men.

Marco peered around, then nodded.

"This space station is better than most. Looks like it stocks quite a range."

He waved Tedia to the free chair. The kid looked tired, but he was moving fine. The resilience of youth. The morning practice had Marco wondering how many years he had left.

"We're re-watching the rematch game, trying to see how Aroff robbed everyone for when we do first string time tomorrow. When he's hot like that, he usually is the next night too. Not like Menzaille."

Tedia knew he was staring again.

"You've played Menzaille?"

"Sure."

Marco handed Tedia his beer and eased himself onto the bed. Not many more years of this. Isley had been in one foul mood at practice!

"When we get here, we always play first string as well as second. Isley likes to keep his second string balanced so he only moves the best players off it for part of the game."

"That would be something," Tedia said, his amber eyes dreamy. "To go in on Menzaille."

"You'll get your chance," Marco said.

Tedia stared.

"This isn't the kind of game Tamara loses. We'll be up against the Pendrae Suns in the semifinals."

"But I'm second string!" And definitely not a 'best' player. Tedia blushed thinking of the stupid mistakes he'd made in the game. He still didn't know why Isley wasn't sending him back down.

Marco laughed. "Hombre, Isley likes the young players. He's just giving you time to get used to the team - back the pressure off a bit. You'll see Menzaille."

Marco had seen a lot of players come and go, and the current team was getting old by the standards Isley and Marti liked. Isley was just too good. Too many of his acquisitions had turned out to be superstars, Hall of Fame material. Isley would keep them, but he was due to start adding youth. Ranga and Mikey had been the first steps at that. Tedia was the next. He'd had a crap game, but he had the moves.

*****

Chapter 43

"Isley, I know you're under a lot of stress, but have you lost your mind?"

"I take it you aren't enthusiastic about Maras as team captain, Marti."

His employer had arrived dressed from a press interview about her soon to be released fashion collection. By her mood Isley would guess it hadn't gone well. He rather suspected Marti did not like having reached the age where they called her a fashion legend.

"That's an understatement!"

Isley watched her pacing the team office on the space yacht, about six steps in each direction. "Aren't you making yourself dizzy?" he asked mildly.

"Aren't I what?"

Marti came to a full stop as she realized what Isley had said, and blushed. This wasn't exactly her best boardroom manner. She squared her shoulders inside the elegant suit jacket that had been the focal point of her last collection and that idiot girl had called charmingly retro.

After a calming breath Marti said, "I would like you to give me two alternatives to consider."

"Sorry," Isley said, meaning it. "If I had alternatives I wouldn't suggest Maras."

Marti started to say that was ridiculous, there are always options, and stopped. Isley looked at the end of his cope. The gravity was almost nonexistent so she could stand with out tiring, but it might help if she was sitting too.

"I believe you, but let's work through the first string for my benefit."

So, I'm getting humored, Isley thought wryly. I wonder who Marti wants but wants the suggestion to come from me first.

"All right, let's do the easy one, Mercan."

Marti smiled. "You're right. That short tempered brat would be a disaster. But Rundell?"

"Is a good candidate for next year. But if his wife's pregnancy goes wrong I'll be looking for yet another player. Neither of us can fault him for that."

"No," Marti sighed. Perhaps if she had ever come first she would still be married. If she'd come first over business and not given a damn about fidelity. Okay, good for Rundell.

"Now, this may be touchy ground, but I do not want Red," Isley said firmly.

"You still intend to trade him?" Marti tilted her head, her fashionably cut hair she had allowed to go gray sliding on her shoulder.

"Miracles could happen, but yes. I'm hoping Gengo decides he likes Galactic Pro better than he thought he would, or Cinnit decides he's restless."

Marti nodded. Both fit her idea of who could replace Daron.

"What about Larr? He's really changed, Isley. I think playing against Rall on the roof made him realize he can become what he wants to be."

"Again, he's a candidate for next year. But right now Larr has one big problem to come to grips with."

Marti raise an eyebrow inquiringly. When that met silence she said, "I don't like the sound of that."

"Sorry, Marti. It isn't my story to tell and it may not affect this year." I wouldn't bet on that though, Isley thought.

Marti studied his face. "Look, I've got to sleep tonight. You know there are limits to how much I'll put up with from my guys. Has Larr been really out of line?" He was capable of that.

Isley thought of the son Larr thought no one knew about. "I don't think so." He'd never heard the mother's side, only the outline from Larr's father who was raising the baby.

"That's the best I'll get?"

"That's right. So let's move on to Party Boy."

"Big Luis." Marti steepled her hands. "You know as well as I do that Luis can be serious. He's intelligent, caring."

"And he draws very firm limits to what he will or won't do. I don't think he'll take the responsibility."

"Please consider him."

Isley was studying Marti's face. He knew her by now. That would shift from a request to a polite but firm order fast.

"Hear me out first, then if you still feel that way I'll sound him out. I agree Big Luis is smart, possibly the smartest man on the team. Or maybe he and Roban are tied. He's supportive of the team, not going for glory."

Was he inadvertently overselling? Marti was relaxing and nodding.

"But Luis is everyone's friend. He draws limits, but he has trouble with ones that make him enemies. Think about the game last night. There was no way he should have backed off and let Maras pull a stunt like that on his side. It turned out well, but Maras could have been out to flatten Koji."

"Didn't you just disqualify Maras?" Marti asked dryly.

Isley shook his head. "Get Maras to understand and buy in and he's rocksteady."

"Yes... Get him to understand."

"Marti, this next game, and each level of the finals are going to be rough, hard-fought. That isn't Big Luis's thing. Maras is street tough – one of the guys gets out of line and he'll thump them."

Marti's eyebrows rose. 'Thump them' was not Isley's style.

"You really want the three-peat that badly?" she asked softly as she searched his face.

Isley sighed and ran a hand over his thinning hair.

"I want things to settle down and the team to play the kind of Octagla it can! As for the three-peat, I'll try, but it is starting to look like we're jinxed."

"Well, if you honestly think you can control Maras..."

"If I can't you'll get an apology and we'll use Luis."

"If you can't, it will be next season and you can look at Rundell or Larr." Marti rose. "I do hope you are calling this right, Isley!"

Me too, Isley thought as he watched the disgruntled team owner leave his office.

***

Coach Isley were calling! All of Maras's good feelings about the day fled. He should've blocked those two shots. He shouldn't have stayed down with Cailla. He...

"Hullo." Maras peered suspiciously at his compad.

"Maras, I want to talk to you in my office on the yacht."

Isley mentally winced as a mask settled on Maras's face. Obviously the man figured he was in trouble, but Isley had no idea why and was not going to spend time guessing. He changed to the Terran dialect Maras was used to.

"No problems for you. I just need someone to talk to."

Now, that were nice. Coach never just talked to him before.

***

"Maras." Isley greeted him with a Terran beer, handed it to him, and motioned Maras to sit down. He'd be direct. Oblique went right past Maras.

"You want to be team captain?"

Maras stared. His many Octagla fantasies did not include team captain. Team captains was the smart-with-words guys everyone liked. Same ones what was popular in school and at the bars.

"Don't matter what I want – or you want," Maras said bluntly. "Won't work. The guys don't like me."

And who said Maras was stupid?

"You got the fight under control last night."

Oh, that were it. People was sure fussin' over that. Maras shook his head.

"Were just tryin' to get on with the game."

"And that's what I want to do too." Isley took a token sip of his beer. "Think about how everyone listened when you said 'freeze'."

Maras grinned. He'd watched that a couple times. Were funny, like when little kids played statue. Then his smile disappeared.

"Don't like me," he repeated.

"No," Isley agreed. "And once you start telling them what to do, they will like you even less. But they respect you," or are intimidated by you which might amount to the same thing, "and will listen."

Team captain. Wouldn't that be something to tell his old man? Would be a lot of work, like everything else were though, Maras expected. He sat, and sipped his beer, slowly turning it over, mentally going through the list as Isley had done and reaching the same conclusions.

"Just this season, right? Next year be Larr or Rundell?"

But why not Larr this year? Rundell got too much on his mind, but Larr? Maybe Isley wanted Larr to focus on roof running. Now that would be something, Larr on the roof in the finals like his dad were. Maras felt guilty not putting his friend Roban on the list. Roban were smart and called the plays, but he were no good at bossy.

Isley nodded, relieved Maras had the concept. Marti just kept misjudging him.

Well, the team needed somebody. Maras squared his shoulders.

"How'd we make sure I don't screw up?"

*****

Chapter 44

Yup. Them was cute doggies. Maras stared at the Cocker's paniel, beagle, and Spitz terrier images the pet store had sent. Which would like a nice walk, or a good workout on a treadmill best? He re-watched the holos of them running and they all looked good, just different.

Getting him a dog had turned into a joint project with Roban and Larr. Maras wasn't quite sure how Larr had invited himself in, but he didn't mind since they was mates now. So far he'd done better than Maras expected. But right now he were a problem. Roban too. They was confusing him because they had different favorites.

Maras really like the miniature Cocker's paniel. The fur looked so soft. He could just imagine running his hands through it. But Larr said they was too feminine looking for a team mascot. He wanted Maras to get a beagle. Maras rotated the image of the beagle and chuckled. Larr were just kidding himself. Feminine? Larr was suckering on those pretty brown eyes and those cute soft floppy ears.

Roban had tried to stay out of it. But when both he and Larr made him say, Roban had admitted his favorite dog were a Spitz terrier. Neither of them had heard of it, but looking at it now, Maras grinningly admitted they was quite the little doggies. They looked like a bright red bristled bottlebrush with a head and feet, but they was bouncy, yappy little dogs. Maras could just see one in the team box, following the play, yapping away, floating up and down on a leash.

Mostly though Maras liked the coarse bright red hair. It looked just the way his brother Reg's hair had looked when he bleached and dyed it one too many times 'cause that were the look the hot babes was going for at the time. It weren't supposed to be red and funny looking, but after he'd been in the bathroom a long, long, long time he came out and that was the way it were. No one had come up with any good ideas, so he'd put on a fluffy green knit hat of their mother's that hid all the hair and said if he met anyone, he'd say Maras had dared him to wear the hat. Reg's friends was all scared of him and they'd back off at that. Then he'd headed for a hairdresser. The hairdresser had said it shouldn't be dyed again until it recovered, and tried to sell him bunch of expensive conditioners to strengthen the hair. But why strengthen funny red hair? Reg had come home and shaved it all off, and the babes liked that still better, so he wore it shaved for a year.

Well, he just didn't know what dog to get. The only thing to do were see them live. Maras called Roban in his room.

"Roban, I just can't decide. I got to see them."

"Are you going planetside to a pet store then?" It was a really bad idea – Isley would trade the lot of them.

"Nah." Maras dismissed that idea. "The dog's gotta like getting dragged around with the team. How can I tell if it likes space stations if we go planetside? I figure two, or maybe three of each dog should do it."

"Nine dogs Maras? Up here at once?"

Besides being appalled at the expense, Roban could just imagine the chaos.

"Well, you can't have just one, can you? I mean it's like people. Don't get along with everyone, does you? The dog's gotta be good company."

"Well, how about starting with two and doing one breed at a time?" Roban countered.

Maras negated this too with a stubborn head shake. "I want to look at all of them at once, Roban, so's I can compare. Besides, it won't waste the guy's time. He'll sell all three kinds anyhow."

"He'll what?"

"Sell 'em. You and Larr will just end up buying what I don't."

"Maras!"

"Will!"

"Maras, you can't have a bunch of pups shipped up to the space station right now." Roban was trying to get this back under control.

"Not before the game," Maras agreed. "And lose this game it might be next season," he conceded. "Or when we train on Gingezel. Spenku could bring them in. I'd sure like 'em now though. Gonna call the guy!"

"Maras, let's think on this," Roban pleaded. "How about we go for a nice long walk, and if the idea still sounds good then you call."

And please may something distract you.

***

Never had nothin' his size, but it were the only good men's wear shop on the space station, so they might as well look. Maras turned to study the displays. Now, that shirt had a nice swirly pattern to it. He moved close to the window to check the swirls out. Looked good. Might be worth an order if they could get it in pink and purple.

"That's a nice blue, isn't it?" Roban came to see what had caught Maras's eye.

"Be good on you. I were thinking purple." Maras turned for a better look at Roban's eye color, then scowled.

"Trouble comin'."

Roban frowned, starting to turn, but Maras touched his arm and he stopped.

"Tough what hung around Ranga. Just keep looking at the shirt."

Maybe he'd go past, but weren't likely. He were looking at Roban.

Roban complied, shifting slightly to get a reflection from the direction Maras had looked. There was no mistaking the man; strong and tough, blond, open to the waist tunic worn with the massive gold chain and pendant. His expression was the same too, arrogant and cruel.

"Roban." Cobyn Gadd approached the two men.

Roban turned, eyes cold. "Cobyn." There was no sense pretending he didn't know who the man was.

"I want to talk to you."

"Ain't talking to your likes."

Maras took a step closer to Cobyn.

Instinctively Cobyn's left hand started to move then he stopped himself.

"Roban can speak for himself."

Roban was very curious what Cobyn could possibly have to say, but Maras was starting to look like trouble.

"I've got nothing to say to you." Roban looked indifferently into those cruel arrogant eyes.

Cobyn had seen the hesitation though, the eyes half flick to Maras.

"Later then."

Cobyn turned and walked off at a controlled pace. Roban was interesting. Very calm and in control of himself. Zloenni was right that he would make a valuable ally. She said he was a geek like Ranga too, and they needed a geek with an in to Daron and Ghen. But Maras – that man was a potential problem that would take some thought and caution, more caution than Cobyn liked to bother with.

"Now you done it!" Maras glared at Roban.

"Calm down. Nothing happened."

People were getting curious. Roban inclined his head towards the café where a few people were staring and more starting to turn.

"Let's talk in my room, Maras."

Were right. Eyes. Maras contented himself with muttering, "Nothin' happened - yet."

***

"Shoulda said no faster." Maras glared at Roban again.

Roban held out a beer.

"Sorry. But you see, I'm curious. Daron and Ranga are in the hospital, so what business does Cobyn have with me?"

"Curious is dumb!"

"Maybe." Roban agreed.

It got a lot of people in trouble. It had certainly got Daron a broken neck. But not knowing what a situation was about wasn't great either in Roban's opinion.

The door chime sounded. Roban made a face and went to the door. It was Larr, of course.

"Hi. How are you and your Uncle Barranb doing?"

Larr stepped in uninvited then stopped with the door closed behind him as he saw Maras was in one of his glowering moods.

"What's your problem? I thought that now that you're team captain you'd be happy for a while."

"You're team captain?" Roban smiled with genuine pleasure. "Congrats!"

Maras grunted. How'd that get around already? Isley hadn't had no meeting.

"How'd you know?"

"Is it supposed to be a secret until the next team meeting? Isley told Rall, and he told me when I called home." Maras had turned the glare on him now.

"Relax! I just got off the call, so I haven't told anyone."

"Then don't!"

Weren't right it not bein at a team meeting with Isley standing there looking important. Maras picked up his beer.

"I repeat, what's your problem?"

"Roban's being stupid!"

"I just had an encounter with Cobyn Gadd, Zloenni's chief enforcer. I didn't talk to him but Maras thinks he'll try again."

"Know," Maras muttered. For a smart guy Roban were being dense.

"You what?" Larr stared.

Some good might come out of this yet, if Larr decided to have some sense about Elvira.

"Remember that little talk we had about Daron and Elvira? My guess is it's something to do with my being Daron's friend."

Roban pointed at Maras.

"Thanks to him, I don't know what exactly it was about."

"Better you don't." Maras put his beer down with a thump.

"You're sure who this guy is?" Larr asked.

"Yes. There is no identity mistake."

Roban took out his compad and called up the image Daron had given him.

"This is who approached us, and Daron says he's Zloenni's chief enforcer. He should know."

Larr studied the image, then made a face, pulling the corners of his mouth down.

"Creep."

"Agreed."

"And you're gonna talk to him." Maras shook his head.

"Listen, not talk. Then leave."

"And if he don't like that?"

"That's his problem," Roban said indifferently.

Maras started to speak, but Larr held up a hand.

"I think Roban isn't being stupid, Maras. I think he honestly isn't afraid of this creep. Are you?" Larr turned his attention to Roban.

"No. He's too much of an animal to be frightening. Now, Vance, he's scary."

"Vance?" Larr wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he was curious too.

"The daddy of that little Hidi clone on Gingezel," Maras supplied.

"To be precise, Vance Grelann, a professional assassin illegally on Gingezel in the hire of Zloenni."

"You got more of that beer?"

Larr bent over the fridge. He needed a moment to compose himself. Abby's dad? That innocent little thing's dad?

"Whose word are you going by there?"

"Ralin Heusgar's," Roban said dryly. "Believe me now?"

"Yes. How the hell did you get in a mess like this?"

"By taking Daron at face value, being naïve. But that's irrelevant now. He's my friend and he's in a hospital bed and I want to know what Cobyn is up to." Roban's voice was hard.

"I'll be there," Maras announced.

"You will not! He won't talk with you there."

"And if he decides you're staying to hear more when you want to go?" Maras asked ominously, his left hand reproducing Cobyn's move, but slower.

"I saw that too, Maras. I'm not blind for galaxy's sake! He goes for his knife left. I expect that's because he prefers that chain, and he's right-handed."

"He carries a knife? They're prohibited."

Maras gave Larr a derisive snort. "Think he cares?"

He turned to Roban. "So what you going to do then?"

"Find out who's faster, I guess."

Roban's hand slid under his vest with the same speed he snapped off an Octagla pass and emerged holding a very functional knife. In the same fluid motion it was at Maras's throat.

"You're good," Maras said admiringly. "Thought you just liked vests."

"Thought I'm helpless you mean!"

Roban raised the knife to Maras's nose, touched the blade to the very tip, then brought it down. He shifted his grip and held it for Maras take the hilt. The bloodstains from fighting off that big cat were permanently in the polymer. He watched Maras trace one with widening eyes.

"Different kind of animal, but I can use it."

Larr slowly put his beer on a coffee table.

"I'm rethinking you, Roban. I thought you were a regular guy, on the right side of the law."

He held out his hand for the knife, took it, weighing the balance then tracing the blood stain in turn.

"I've never held one of these. They're a prohibited weapon," he repeated, then stopped with a frown.

Had he seen the Customs Officer on Ennup 10 handling a knife when he was checking out Ranga? It hadn't registered at the time ... Larr turned the knife again, catching the glint of the blade in the light.

"Not really prohibited."

Roban got out his compad and called up the documentation he had shipped to every Customs and Immigration department the team dealt with.

"Uncle Barranb talked to a friend with the Interplanetary Judiciary. With enough patience, psychological testing, and form filling you can get a permit.

"In my case, after that wild cat went at me I simply don't feel safe driving a rented vehicle on the deserted roads to the farm with nothing. I could rent a locker at the spaceport, but sometime I'd be in a hurry and forget. Besides, I can't practice with my knife in a locker on a different planet, and a knife needs regular practice.

"The same thing goes for a gun. But I don't want to carry a gun around from space station to space station. I can keep a knife on me, not worry I'll come back to my room and it's gone."

Maras was studying Roban. "Cat? You mean one gave you that scar on your thigh?" Were nasty. Been ripped up good.

"Yes."

Kytherial sounded like a real good place for Klese. Toughen him up. A lot less worried now Maras moved to the cater unit in search of a sandwich to tide himself over.

"Can you throw that thing?"

"Can I throw an Octagla ball?"

"You just insulted Roban again," Larr said as he handed the knife back. "And I expect my insult was worse, questioning your integrity."

Roban shrugged. "This is territory neither of us is used to."

He did not include Maras in the statement. Maras seemed all too comfortable with the wrong side of the law. Was Maras his next mistake, one to match Daron?

"Have to stay beyond the chain, that's all then," Maras said.

"Has to get the chain off," Roban threw back. "I don't think Cobyn is that fast. And it won't come down to that."

He put the knife back in its sheath.

"Deliberately changing topics, Barranb has two different throws for you to try, Larr. Let me show you."

***

Larr waited until Maras had been gone five minutes and wasn't likely to come back.

"I think your stock went up with Maras. You honestly expect trouble with this Cobyn?"

Roban shook his head. "No. I think he's just messenger for Zloenni. Where the trouble would come from is Maras being there and imagining a threat."

"I hope you're right. Now, let me see if I have that second move right."

It felt good. For that matter, they both felt natural. Now, if they just worked in the court!

*****

Chapter 45

Mikey smothered the ball and Bourarra whistled the end of play. How did Tarell keep up this pace? It was almost a relief to give the ball to Bourarra. If he was as fussy as usual setting up the face-off, there might be a few second break for his head to stop spinning.

It was easier here on second string Tedia decided as they positioned themselves. The play was more a level he was used to, and the players were easier to get along with. Sure, Sandlik was sour that Chan had moved up to play with Larr, when Chan was a right-winger and he was a left-winger, but he wasn't taking it out on anyone. He was just trying to prove he was the one who should be first string.

Tedia returned Sandlik's curt nod, but he wasn't sure Sandlik really saw him. His lean blackface was taut, and he was focused on Gengo.

Gengo was good, really good, Tedia thought. He couldn't figure out why he was playing planetary, not galactic. A few years here and he'd be a superstar like his father, Li.They had the same builds, the same crisp definitive moves.

"Hombre!"

Tedia turned at the murmur in the intercom, and got a grin and a thumbs-up from Marco who was filling in for Chan. Greg had said he'd get some play later in the game when Rundell's wrist went. Tedia still had no idea why he was playing, not Greg. When he'd said so, they'd both laughed at him and said don't be naïve. Isley liked younger players and he had the moves. Isley was checking him out. They'd told him that before, and Tedia simply did not believe that for a second. Not after last game.

Tedia replied with a half wave, half salute. To his surprise Rishic positioned further out than Marco returned the salute. Tedia still didn't have a feel for Rishic. He was quiet and seemed to just watch things. Then Tedia's whole focus was on the game as Gengo took his position.

Why the hell am I here? Gengo asked himself, his forearm throbbing despite the neuroblock. He didn't want this. He didn't need this. Li and Torin had caught him in a weak moment, suckered him with a hard luck story about Isley. Abruptly Gengo moved out of the position. He was risking getting called for delaying the game so he made a point of adjusting a glove that didn't need it. Time to settle down! A few games wouldn't kill him.

"Sorry," Gengo apologized as he returned to this position. "Had to replace two parts a couple games back."

Bourara gave a resigned nod. The only ones fussier than centers about their gloves were goalies about their pads. And every last center in the league was edgy with Daron in the hospital. At least Gengo didn't have the temper his father had, or this game would have been out of control a few minutes ago when he got that forearm slash. Seto was in the box for that stunt. But Gengo sure hadn't reacted, just backed off and glared at Seto. Bourara allowed himself a moment to wonder exactly what Isley had said to the guys. Then a rare smile temporarily touched his lips. Maybe it was the new team captain.

Gengo took his place opposite Cinnit who was in the court for the face-off since Seto was in the box. Cinnit had taken three of the four face-offs he'd had with Red tonight. All right Cinnit, let's see how we fare. Gengo focussed, letting himself relax, not tense. His responses were a few milliseconds faster that way, his motions smoother. Their sticks crossed, slid. Cute trick, Cinnit, not cute enough. Gengo netted the ball, accelerated, then passed right, his safest pass. What Tamara needed was security. They were up one, but that wasn't enough this early in the game.

Marco netted it, passing to Rishic who would pass back in a moment. He watched as Cinnit headed back to the Pendrae United team box for the inside left winger Stef to replace him. Tamara was a man up for five minutes and Marco intended to take every advantage of that. Good. Sandlik was moving in fast, taking advantage of the line change to get into free space. Sandlik was hungry tonight and Pendrae United knew it. There were all over him. He'd be one big bruise tomorrow.

And hombre? The kid?

Whoa. Tedia could move! And he liked to play high. Maybe that was an advantage with Aroff. Marco netted the pass back from Rishic and passed not to Sandlik, but to Tedia, putting all of his compact mass into it.

"Hombre!" Marco could move the ball when he wanted to.

Startled, Tedia netted the pass and didn't hesitate. It was a long shot, but at this angle Aroff was partially screened and obviously expecting a pass off. It went in, low on Aroff's weak side. They were up two.

Isley nodded in satisfaction, watching the team pile on Tedia. He had the moves, the shot. The poor performance in the make up game was just a bad start. The game had just been too soon for him.

***

Roban took the break in play as a chance to scan the boxes for Kaith, Mercan's Pendrae fiancé. Mercan had said she was here with a girlfriend, but not what box she was in. He moved along systematically. There was a plump blonde. Roban waited until she turned back to the court. No, that wasn't Kaith. Next box, no blondes. Next box, not Kaith; he was looking straight into Zloenni's beautiful green eyes. She smiled a little cat like smile, then turned to Cobyn beside her. Suddenly Roban felt trapped, in a cage. Was that how Daron had felt?

Put it aside, he told himself. The face off is set up. You have to call the plays!

***

Isley looked around the dressing room at his team, restless and talking all at once. He was satisfied. They hadn't held the lead Tedia gave them, they were down by one. But they had three periods to catch up. What mattered was they were finally playing as a team.

Besides, Isley wasn't surprised they hadn't held the lead. He was taking Tarell's advice and trying spelling Mikey off more often early in the game so he would be rested for the final period. Kevin was better than you'd expect against Jaik, but Koji always had been able to score on him. Combine that with the fact Aroff was having his second good night and things were about where they should be.

He walked over to where Doc was poking at Rundell's wrist.

"How is it?"

Jaik should have taken penalty time for that. Bourara was calling a tight game, but he'd missed the slash.

"Fine." Rundell beat Doc to an answer.

Isley ignored him and looked at Doc.

"Jaik didn't get a solid hit this time. I can keep it under control but he'll pay."

Isley shook his head. "We need you in top shape for the playoffs, Rundell. I'm going to put Chan back together with Rishic and they will spell you and Mercan off half-time first string."

Mercan made a face. He was having a good night, and he and Kaith had a private supper planned after the game. She liked it when he was the hero.

"Don't sulk," Isley advised him. He'd seen Kaith too. "Just use your time well. Put us far enough ahead we're in the playoffs for sure."

Mercan laughed and saluted. "Will do, coach."

Isley moved along to where Chan was sitting alone.

"Chan, I'm pairing you with Rishic again."

He got the carefully schooled nod of the journeyman accepting whatever the coach said. Chan had just played his best period ever with Larr, but he was not fighting the fact the coach was putting him back on second string. Chan was a good man.

"Rishic!"

Isley waved to the ugly angular blond across the room.

Rishic approached, eyes questioning, Adam's apple bobbing.

"I need to protect Rundell's wrist. Chan is having a good night. I want to use the pair of you for half of the first string time, as well as your own shifts. Are you up to it?"

Isley wasn't worried about Chan. The public recognition of his play would have him floating until third-period exhaustion hit them all. Isley would decide what happened after that by the score, but he knew he really needed to protect Rundell.

Rishic didn't answer at once. This was not a situation to deceive himself or the coach. He slowly shook his head.

"I'd like to say yes, but I'll power out late in the third period. Can Rundell carry the fourth?"

Isley looked at Doc and got a head-shake.

"Assume you'll do the first string work. As soon as you start feeling it, let me know and Greg will go in for you on second string. That's what he's here for."

Rishic nodded, then his face was lightened by one of his rare smiles. "And I'm supposed to not let Jaik breathe so Chan can get on with it?"

"You got it."

Now, the hard choice. Isley hoped he was right. Oh, he hoped he was right. Sandlik was the logical one to pair with Larr, but he really liked the way Tedia had just played. He may have found a new weak spot on Aroff and they could use that. Sandlik first though. He was having a good night.

"Rundell has a problem, and things are going to be rough," Isley said in a low voice. "I'm playing Chan and Rishic half time first string. That means you are the one keeping the second string going. Are you up to that?" There was the first hint of a smile on Sandlik's face he'd seen all night, and a curt nod. "Good. I'm counting on you."

Isley walked to where Maras, Larr, and Roban were sitting, and motioned to Tedia to join them. The kid didn't move. He and Marco and Greg were into some animated discussion in latino, handwaving. Tedia probably hadn't even noticed him.

"Tedia!"

Tedia stopped mid-sentence and rose, amber eyes less wary than usual. He'd had a good period, as good as he'd ever had. Maybe he'd get a few minutes first string. Greg figured he would since Rundell obviously was having trouble.

"How bad is the wrist?" Larr asked softly as he looked over to where Chan and Rishic were now deep in a whispered conversation and Rundell was slumped against the wall, eyes closed.

"I want it in as good shape as possible for the playoffs. So Chan and Rishic will play half of the first string time."

Maras, firmly into his role as team captain, solemnly nodded approval. "Chan's hot tonight."

Larr nodded in agreement.

Isley turned to Tedia. "So, Tedia, are you up to the rest of the game first string with Larr?"

Tedia nodded since everyone else was. He'd caught Larr's name. And he thought Isley had just said he'd get some time first string, but he wasn't sure. It had been like this since he arrived. The Comlan was unintelligible. So except when talking to Marco and Greg, Tedia was going by body language. Out in the court he used his agile mind try to keep up to the play in a reactive mode, and a couple times he'd wondered how much trouble he'd be in if he turned the intercom off. It threw him. He'd hardly slept watching and rewatching games to memorize the plays, and he'd ask Marco a steady stream of questions whenever they were together until Marco said 'enough, hombre!' and changed topics. Now he caught Marco's eye and got a smile and a thumbs up.

So he must be going to play a few minutes first string. If the first string stuck to the usual plays he'd be all right for a bit of time with them. For sure he wouldn't mind a chance to get even with Henron for that crosscheck last game. A chance to really get even, when the ref wasn't looking. His bruised ribs were going to stay black for a week from that check.

*****

Chapter 46

Make your time out there count. Mercan thought he could see how to get past Cinnit. Koji wasn't a problem. Greg was taking the attitude he always did subbing first string. Do anything short of landing in the penalty box to neutralize the player you're opposite. Mercan figured about another five minutes of Greg crowding him and Koji would try to give him a shiner to match that face bruise he'd given him in the rematch.

But that was five minutes from now. Right now Mercan figured if he went just at that angle, and got Jaik mad enough he was playing close, Ferdik would be screened. Mercan automatically passed off to Larr as planned.

"Big Luis, commentary, loud," Mercan murmured as he worked up the court, keeping an eye on Larr.

So Mercan wants to get on Jaik's nerves, does he? Big Luis grinned. That shouldn't be hard. Jaik had jetted into the court in a foul mood.

"Larr has the ball, working up the court. Going to take the ball well in." Luis pitched his voice loud, loud enough for the press microphones to pick up, something he rarely did.

"Calban is on him. But Henron hasn't got a chance. Tedia's playing close and rough."

Big Luis blinked and his jaw dropped as Tedia slowed Henron down with a vicious, barely legal check. That kid must have radar for when Bourarra was looking.

Good! We're even. Tedia gave Henron another shove to get clear. That hit would have been a little less clean, but he didn't want to get thrown out of the game. Tedia had that much clear - they had to win, and Señor Isley liked clean play.

"Way to go, kid! Okay, Mercan, it's back to you. Don't worry. Jaik's off tonight."

Him come over to my side, he'll be more than off, Maras thought grimly. Be flattened. Were stayin' clear though. Maras had a bruised arm from one of the scrambles by the net he figured was Jaik, that were all.

Jaik's off tonight, is he? I only scored three of the first-period goals. Jaik knew perfectly well Big Luis was just out to irritate him. He also knew perfectly well it usually succeeded. By the smirk on Mercan's face he suspected Mercan, not Rundell on the bench, was behind the baiting. Okay Mercan, let's see how you like playing close and rough.

Just as Jaik moved into range to belt him, Mercan snapped the ball back to Larr.

"I want it back," Mercan murmured. "When I say."

"Told you it isn't Jaik's night!" Big Luis bellowed. "But keep an eye on Cinnit. He's focusing."

So Mercan sees a way to score, does he? That's good, because I sure don't have a chance. Larr watched Calban and Alton positioning themselves to block any further progress he intended. He kept pressing in like he intended to keep the ball though, listening for the murmured 'now' from Mercan, grinning at Big Luis's flow of words.

"Now!"

Larr risked using his full strength to maximize momentum with the move Roban had taught him in the hotel room. There hadn't been a chance to practice it in a court. It worked! Larr could feel the extra force he put into the pass.

The speed took both Mercan and Jaik by surprise. Mercan netted the ball while Jaik was still recovering from the speed of the pass. Positioning himself better than he'd expected Mercan shot. So sweet. Aroff never saw that coming. The game was tied. Mercan blew a kiss to Kaith just before everyone piled on him.

***

Dammit Mikey, smother it! Maras gave Henron a vicious elbow in the mouth and got the bounce. Weren't no choice. He had to pass the kid.

Tedia netted the ball easily and made a split-second decision. He had an easy pass off to Larr if he moved just past center on the wrong side. And Maras had slowed Henron down so he was free to move. Tedia changed trajectory...

What the hell was the kid doin' gettin' it all wrong? Maras swore under his breath as he belted Henron again just to show him what it were like to play in this league. Didn't like this new guy!

"Yours, Señor Larr," Tedia murmured as he pressed into the Pendrae United end.

Larr thought he understood, hoped he understood. Henron was doubled up and out of this play, and Calban couldn't cover both of them. Larr hung back just enough to force Calban to move to cover Tedia, then suddenly jetted full speed at Alton.

Tedia passed with that fluid twist of his.

That kid could pass for his size, and he judged trajectories to the micron! Tedia went up in Larr's books as he netted the ball easily, applied torque, and went past Alton in a roll. He got a shot off just as Alton connected, and for a moment Larr thought the ball had gone wild. But it hit the upper right corner of the net, not mid right where he'd been aiming and Aroff was moving to. The goal light went on. He'd take luck. They were one up for the first time this period.

***

Isley called Mercan and Greg in before Koji got really dirty and damaged Greg. Besides liking him, Greg was going to be badly needed for the playoffs. Isley was starting to let himself think of at least semifinals the way they were playing out there.

"Good shift, Greg!"

Greg nodded and reached for an electrolyte drink. It still hurt too much to talk.

"Kaith your favorite?" Isley asked Mercan.

Mercan laughed.

As Rishic took his place opposite Koji, it was easy for him to read Jaik's sneer. 'Now we catch up and pull ahead.' Like Larr, Rishic had done a year as a second stringer with Pendrae United, and he had no love for their conceited star. He'd enjoy this.

Red took his position at center, tense. How did Gengo look so relaxed? He knew what they were saying behind his back. Gengo would be replacing him on first string. Red would have liked to say that was just because Gengo had a famous father, but he had to admit Gengo was good, damned good.

Adrenaline gave him an edge. Red took the face-off, passed off to Larr who was already working towards the Pendrae United end.

Larr caught the pass, and did a quick rethink of the game plan. Calban was there almost as soon as the ball, and Larr would guess he intended to be a problem.

"Heads up, Chan," he murmured at the same time he heard Roban say, "Chan's clear." This might work. Rishic was doing a good job of crowding Jaik, and Koji didn't seem to have decided if that meant Chan was his problem or not.That was one thing you could use against Koji. He wasn't all that comfortable out of position.

Larr made his pass just as Calban started a stick check. It connected, jarring Larr's wrist but the ball was already gone.

Chan netted it with ease, timing his jet burst to start just as he twisted the stick to seat the ball deep in the elastic polymer. One on one with the blond giant, Ferdik. Chan knew Ferdik was doing a split-second assessment of him, just as he was assessing Ferdik. They rarely played each other. Chan knew Ferdik was faster than the second string defenseman, about twelve kg heavier, and tended to check mid-upper body. All irrelevant statistics. What was he going to do now? Chan decided to add a confusion factor, change hands on the stick. It was something he rarely did, but could do; it was handy with sprains. And he veered left, like he intended to shoot that way.

Ferdik followed him. Chan's switch back on hands was as fast as Roban could have managed, and his shot was partially screened by Ferdik.

Galaxy! How did Aroff ever see that, much less get a piece of it?

The ball went wild. With a butt end to the ribs Jaik broke free from Rishic and netted it and headed for the Tamara end full jets, Koji close behind. Red was closing in fast, a bit lower. Jaik let him get close, and sent him spinning out of control with a vicious kick to the shoulder. That gave him torque too. Damn! Too much torque. Those extra two and a half to three kilos Red had over Daron made a difference. He didn't have the control to make the shot. Jaik snapped a fast pass back to Koji near the wall.

Big Luis had been covering Jaik. Koji moved fast, taking a shot with Mikey screened. Mikey let it in upper left. The game was tied.

***

"Mikey, you didn't do a thing wrong! I wouldn't have got that one either." Tarell was trying to sound calm and reassuring, talking on a private channel to Mikey. He winced at the reply and motioned to Kevin. "Look, Mikey –"

Isley said, "Spell Mikey off, Kevin."

Kevin nodded as unconcerned as ever. Over thirty, with a career spent as backup goalie, he'd seen a lot of temperament. Mikey was okay, just out of his depth and scared.

I should have used Kevin for the series with Ennup 10, Isley thought. We wouldn't have lost that set and be fighting to get in the semifinals.

"Tarell, try to calm Mikey down!"

Please calm him down. Kevin was good for ten minutes max. at this pace. That was why he hadn't been used for the Ennup 10 games. He'd tried a younger man who he thought had the potential to move up a league. He'd been wrong. What was Mikey's problem? He was good, could be great. But Galaxy he had a confidence problem with the shift to number one goalie.

Tarell nodded, intent on the stream of words.

"No Mikey! Isley is not putting Kevin in because you blew it. He's spelling you off to give you time to calm down. C'mon – how many times have you spelled me off when I got disgusted?"

Tarell grinned at Mikey's guesstimate.

"That's better. Now, paste on that grin of yours and get your ass over here. We'll try to figure out how Koji fooled you."

Isley watched Kevin position his lanky black frame in the net. Kevin was almost as tall as Aroff, but more coordinated. He raised his stick in a salute to someone, then Isley realized Aroff had waved at Kevin and Kevin had returned it. The pair got along, and if his memory was correct both taught at the same goalie camp off-season.

***

Cinnit took this face-off, and carrying the ball himself pushed the play into the Tamara and ... Whoa! How did Red get there just like that? Cinnit passed to Jaik as planned, but earlier than expected.

Out of my face, Rishic! Or I'll pass off to Koji since you're ignoring him. In fact, that might be the best idea. Only just as Jaik was ready to make the pass, Chan was between him and Koji. Direct solution time. Jaik jetted up and to the side, elbowing Rishic in the face. He was clear. Just Big Luis. Jaik had learned years ago it was best to stay out of Big Luis's reach. Kevin would never get a long shot.

Kevin did. As he smothered the ball he thought with satisfaction, 'You're getting too self-confident, Jaik. A juvenile could have stopped a shot from that far out.'

As Bourara was positioning them for the face-off Kevin murmured to Mikey, "How come I get the easy ones?"

He actually got a laugh. That was better.

Red focused. This was in their end. He took the face-off, just, and passed to Larr as Cinnit took a vicious swipe at him.

Larr twisted, gave Calban a shove, and move fast into center court. Where was Tedia? Keeping Henron busy. Good, because Calban was catching up and he didn't need the pair on him. As Calban closed in, Larr passed off to Chan. How long was Koji going to keep leaving him clear like that? Cinnit was moving in fast, but he wasn't a match for Chan. As Larr watched, Chan used Cinnit as a screen to get shot off. It just missed Aroff's toe, bounced, and went in. They had the lead again.

***

Isley looked at the time. 1:46 left.

"Mikey. You going to close?"

Kevin could, but it would be pushing him. He'd just made four saves in less than that many minutes and was showing signs of shell shock. Besides, Mikey needed to get back in.

It wasn't any different from spelling off Tarell after an intense burst of play like that, Mikey told himself.

"Sure."

Way to go, Tarell thought, but kept his mouth shut.

Kevin wasn't the only one tired. Red tried, but he couldn't focus.

Cinnit took the face-off and passed to Calban while Koji and Jaik were working into position. In the scramble Rishic was not letting Jaik take the pass. He ignored another dirty check and stayed blocking Jaik. Koji took the pass in close to the net, rolled on the check from Big Luis and shot.

Mikey didn't even have time to think. Reflex took over and he got a piece of it, but not enough to smother the ball.

Maras got the loose ball and decided to see if Aroff were awake. Play were too much this end. He put all his considerable mass into a shot on goal. Got it too, he thought the satisfaction as Aroff netted the ball and passed to Ferdik.

"Back to you!"

Ferdik put his own mass into a comparable shot, but the buzzer sounded before the ball reached center court.

The second period ended with Tamara ahead. The fans booed Pendrae United out of the court.

*****

Chapter 47

The team members were slumped on the dressing room benches, drinking legal stimulants and eating the foods they believed would carry them through until their second wind kicked in. The third period had been wide-open with the teams alternating goals. Isley wasn't concerned. Pendrae United would be just as tired. He watched Larr take a long swallow of the same Laurion tea Rall had always sworn by and had never done a single thing for him. Big Luis was on his fourth protein roll already. He had been worried Mikey wasn't consuming anything until Kevin put one of the commercial electrolyte beverages the team endorsed in his hand. It was half empty already, Mikey sipping as the two older goalies talked. Isley would bet he didn't realize he was even holding it much less swallowing.

He walked over to Rishic and Chan.

"Can you keep up the first string work?"

They were still spelling off Mercan and Rundell plus taking their turns second string. Both men had to be nearing exhaustion.

Chan nodded. He was high on success. This was the night he'd dreamed of all his career. He'd just have Doc quick check him in the box if he felt space sickness, the physiological changes from prolonged intense exertion in 0 g's, coming on. He'd been there a couple times and didn't need another case of that. So far he had only hit minor red/white muscle tissue changes and decalcification, but the electrolyte imbalance tended to hit him hard and fast.

"Rishic?"

Rishic grinned, Adam's apple bobbing. "I'm surprising myself. And I'm still trying to get Jaik mad enough he gets thrown out."

Isley shook his head. "That won't happen. This game means too much. So don't try. And let me know when you start to crash."

He looked at Chan. "That goes for you too. No heroics. Need Doc to check you?"

"Not yet."

***

As they took their positions Mercan caught Kaith's eyes, smiled and mouthed a kiss. Chan might be having a good night, but so was he. And it was going to get better once this game was over. Galaxy that woman was pretty, and her smile!

That reminded Luis. Hidi was going to try to make it for the end of the game. He took a quick look at the press box. Yes, there she was, right up front. He only managed a half salute, then Bourarra was moving in to release the ball.

Cinnit took the face-off and carried the play into the Tamara end. Mercan didn't try to stop him. Big Luis could usually stop Cinnit. He was riding herd on Jaik who was acting way too interested in Rundell.

Big Luis got to Cinnit just as he was about to pass to Koji who was positioned to shoot. Cinnit was staying out of range of a body check, but not a stick check if he really stretched. Big Luis did. Connected. The shot went wild.

Mercan forgot he was watching Jaik and headed full jets for the bounce. This one was his. He just knew it. Jaik was right behind him. Mercan took care of that with a butt end. Bourara would never see it where he was. He didn't bother to look, just hit. Hard. Felt the impact. He didn't care where he'd connected. Jaik deserved whatever he got after Rundell's wrist.

Rundell had Koji tied up in a shoving match so he had a clear one-on-one with Ferdik. Then Mercan made a mistake. He caught Ferdik's eye and the grin. Damn! It had been like this ever since that stupid bet he couldn't beat Ferdik one-on-one. He kept choking.

Larr knew all about that bet too. He jetted in full speed, just like it was an intended pass off and headed for the roof on Ferdik's side.

There was a split second hesitation, then Ferdik followed.

That was all Mercan needed. He kept going, scored. They were one up again.

"That's cheating!" Ferdik complained, but he was laughing. "Double or nothing?"

Mercan shook his head. Not in a game this important and tight. Then the team was there, pounding him. He managed to look past them, and catch Kaith's eyes. She blew him a kiss.

Tied. One up again. Tied. One up. It was hard fought, each goal costing in exhaustion.

There was 2:19 left, and they needed that security goal. Isley made his decision and called a timeout. Kendrix could make what he wanted of it. He tried to ignore the cold hard blue eyes he could feel boring into him.

There was a fast, whispered conversation at the bench barely audible even with the intercoms, hand slapping, and the team returned to the court.

Larr could feel the tingle down his spine as he took his position. He would go up to the roof again, only this time it wouldn't be faking. He'd roof run, secure the crucial game, take them to the playoffs.

Playing on pure adrenalin now, Red took the face-off and passed to Mercan. The team started moving into the Pendrae United end in number six of their standard formations.

What the hell was Jaik's problem? Mercan asked himself as he got a rough check that almost knocked the ball loose. Oh ... Maybe that butt end really connected. Good! Before Jaik could belt him again Mercan passed off to Tedia in the clear.

Tedia netted the ball easily, trying to watch everyone at once because there was a change in game plan. He hadn't understood a word in the huddle, and now he had Roban's murmur almost muted. The accent threw him. But he wasn't too worried. The two periods on first string had gone better than he'd expected. Maybe it was all of those hours watching the Tamara games. Learning the plays, like this one. It was one of their best.

Tedia blinked sweat from his eyes. He was lightheaded from lack of sleep and exhausted, but he didn't care. None of this was real anyways. He had to make a pass off soon though. Henron was moving in fast, obviously intent on getting the ball, being the hero that tied the game.

It was time. Heart pounding, Larr murmured 'Tedia' and headed for the roof. Calban was playing really close, so the kid had better get the timing right. He wasn't worried though. That kid could pass.

Tedia allowed himself a small smile as Henron closed in. So that was the change. It was like before. Señor Larr would move close to the roof, then suddenly jet down and pass off to Señor Mercan. It was smart they were using a new pattern, one Pendrae United had only seen the once.

Tedia let Henron come closer. Closer. He was timing the pass to reach Larr just as he started down full jets. It looked like Señor Larr might be able to take the shot himself that way. Tedia made the pass, hard, fast and straight to Calban. Larr was still headed for the roof.

"Hombre!"

A string of profanity in latino came on a private channel from Marco. Paralyzed with shock, Tedia just floated there, drowning in the curses.

Shit! Maras was looking at a three on one rush. Cinnit, Calban, and Henron. Big Luis couldn't help him. Jaik and Koji were moving in fast too. Larr were up at the bloody roof, and Red were almost as far back in Pendrae's end as Ferdik and Alton. Can't play all three. Maras focused on the seasoned players Cinnit and Calban, passing back and forth, positioning themselves.

Maras started to move closer to Cinnit, crafty little devil. Had to watch him. If he passed off to Calban, were easy to shift back.

Good. Cinnit watched Maras moving in. Keep coming Maras. Keep coming. Cinnit maxed his jets, like he intended to use Maras as a screen on a shot. Just as Maras started to check, he passed to Henron who was clear on the wall.

Mikey tried to recover. Like Maras he'd been focused on Cinnit. But the shot was hard, fast, at an oblique angle. It went in lower right.

Tie game with seven seconds left.

Red focused like he had never focussed before. He got the face-off and passed to Mercan. Mercan moved into the Pendrae United end, full jets. Swerved to get clear of Jaik, damn him. This was not the time for subtlety. He had to shoot while the clock was still running. It was going to be long, but he knew how to take a bounce shot off the wall.

Jaik wasn't taking chances or waiting for Ferdik. On full jets as well, he moved into the ball's trajectory hoping to stop it somehow, any way. He got a piece of the shot with his shoulder sending the ball wild. The buzzer sounded. Overtime. The crowd was on its feet screaming as Jaik flexed his shoulder. A pad had taken some of the impact of the shot. He'd be purple bone deep, but it was worth it. Doc would take care of the pain for now and stiffness wouldn't hit tonight.

***

Knett waited for the profanity from Daron, Torin, and Reno to die down. He didn't bother to check Daron's stress monitors. They would be off scale. Hell, it wasn't his team, and his stress levels were off scale.

"So what do they do now?"

Daron and Torin looked at each other. Daron shrugged.

"Isley doesn't have a choice, does he?"

*****

Chapter 48

No one was talking, and Tedia was just sitting there staring at the floor. Isley had no intentions of telling him it was fine. It wasn't. He could well have cost them the playoffs. On the other hand, there was no use telling him he blew it either. He knew. The question was, what to do now? They needed a fast end to the overtime.

Isley looked down the room to where Chan was sitting. He had to be so tired he shook when he moved. Doc hadn't had time to check him yet, but he had probably been space sick the last minute or so of the last period and not said, if that arm cramp he was rubbing now was an indicator. Isley knew from his records that in Chan's case, his electrolyte imbalance went severe rapidly, especially the potassium.

Space sickness was the chronic risk for every Octagla player with so much of their time over a year spent weightless and exercising hard weightless. The unitards simply could not totally prevent fluid redistribution and the associated mineral loss and electrolytic and metabolic imbalance. Compound that with intense exertion and both potassium and sodium level drops could reach dangerous stages. All of the teams tried to minimize the left ventricular atrophication by sending the players planetside as often as possible. In the long-term players were looking at muscle tissue balance shifts, and atrophy as the contractile protein changed or was lost. The longest term problem was bone density loss, although this at least could be countered by the right resistance exercise.

The potassium imbalance Chan was prone to showed up as cramps, nausea, weakness, palpitations, fainting, kidneys passing too much urine leading to dehydration, and in extreme cases mental confusion, psychotic behavior, and hallucinations.

Slowly Isley walked down. He wouldn't demand anything of Chan. He'd ask. And he'd have Doc run a full blood scan. Pushing Chan was one thing, respiratory failure, or palpitations so severe they lead to cardiac arrest was something else. He waited until the disoriented eyes looked up at him.

"If Doc gives the ok, can we give you everything that's legal? Can you replace Tedia and play with Larr?"

Isley wasn't sure Chan got it.

"Chan, do you understand what I'm saying or are you too space sick already?"

Every eye in the room was on Chan. They all knew how exhausted Chan was. They all knew the cost of what Isley was asking. There were legal stimulants that would keep him in the game. But nothing would stop him from being space sick if he kept going, assuming he wasn't already. And two of the stimulants would make the space sickness worse. He could get them into the playoffs, but he wouldn't play a single game. He'd be out for the rest of the season.

"I understand."

Chan rubbed the spasm in his arm then took the stylus from Isley and signed a medical release.

He shut his eyes as Doc approached with a syringe.

"Do it."

***

He was wired. He was here, focused like he never been. He was a million miles away floating in the galaxy watching someone called Chan play. He was rocksteady, he couldn't do anything wrong. He shook. It had been like this whole eternity of the overtime.

Chan was backing up as Cinnit forced the play into their end. Cinnit ... Cinnit? ... Yes, that was Cinnit. Setting up Henron on the wall to play across court to Jaik. Only the Chan that was a million miles away said 'Crap. He's going to pass to Koji!' That Chan moved in a direction that might have been as wrong as Tedia had been.

But it wasn't. Chan intercepted the pass with the very tip of his stick. Take it. Fly. Score. Be the hero that makes the playoffs for the team.

Heroes don't shake so hard they can hardly keep the ball in their net. Chan passed to Maras, the strongest man on the team.

Maras didn't hesitate. They'd all agreed Larr would hang back near the roof, and this time there wouldn't be any screw ups. Maras put his full weight into the pass.

Larr caught it, turned and set jets to full. He hit the roof running almost directly above Jonagar who didn't have a chance. Neither did Aroff. He shot, scored!

They were in the semi-finals.

***

The Pendrae United fans were still on their feet booing as the Head of Security quietly approached Isley. He jerked his head at the Octagla court where the team was still backslapping and hugging.

"Think you can get them safely into the dressing room, now?"

Isley nodded. Pendrae United fans were trouble. They'd wanted to see Tamara humiliated, right out of the finals.

He set the intercom on max volume. "Maras! The rest of you guys! Time to hit the showers!"

That were one real good idea. Maras had been through Octagla riots.

"Come on! Break it up. Let's get out of here!" He shepherded his teammates effectively to the box.

Chan automatically fell into line heading for the dressing room. Isley and Larr exchanged a quick glance, then Larr put an arm around Chan's shoulder.

"Not so fast, Chan. Media time."

Chan gave Larr a blank look. He was second string. He'd never done media time in his career. And he certainly wasn't part of the show after a key game.

"Come on." Larr eased him towards Isley. "You won't feel any rougher five minutes from now. You're the hero, not me. So let them splash your image all over the galaxy."

***

"Larr!" Jorj was at his unctuous best as they entered the media booth. "That was amazing – history being made!"

At one time Larr would have been amused, possibly even flattered. As soon as he had settled in as a journeyman, not the next superstar, Jorj barely had a hello for him. Now he was obviously going to give him the star treatment. Larr didn't care now. He could feel Chan trembling beneath the arm he had wrapped around him.

"I'm no hero."

Larr turned to Kenof, the color commentator. He'd played. He would understand.

"If Chan hadn't made the interception and set up that play, who knows what would have happened. Chan played the whole overtime already space sick and pumped full of everything legal Doc could put in him." Larr saw Kenof wince. "He won't see a game of the semi-finals he got us into. He's the hero!"

For once Kenof forgot he was just a color commentator and only spoke on Jorj's cue. His whole focus was on Chan.

"Shit! What are you doing then? Heading home to recover? I made myself space sick once, but nothing like this. And I was out for months!"

The Chan that was millions of miles away thought about it. Home. A bachelor pad in a megacity with friends who liked to party. Parents who had been separated for ten years now. Siblings scattered across the galaxy.

The Chan who was in the media room said, "I think I'll keep Daron company on Gingezel."

Did his voice sound as strange to everyone else as it did to him? Maybe when he got past the worst of this he would just walk on the beach. Sometimes he'd seen Wayd there painting with Mai's girl Meku. He liked to paint. He was lousy, but he liked it.

Jorj cleared his throat. Intellectually he knew there was this side of Octagla, but it wasn't talked about. It wasn't glamorous, exciting, dramatic.

"Coach Isley, –"

Isley cut off the inevitable question of what are your chances against the Pendrae Suns?

"I would like to take this opportunity to publicly thank Chan. He's an exceptional player, and men with his dedication to the game are rare. It is an honor to have him playing for Tamara."

The Chan that was a million miles away said he would have to keep a copy of that. The Chan that was in the media box honestly meant to say 'Thank you. The honor is mine.'

What came out is "Look. I've got to go. I'm going to be sick.'

Larr tightened his grip. "I'll get you to the dressing room." Isley could handle Jorj's stupid questions.

***

Larr might not think he was the hero, but he had played one hell of a game. She definitely had to connect with that man when she went to follow the team.

Elvira turned to Ranga. "How tough will the Pendrae Suns be?"

Elvira had paid no attention to them since she'd been sure Pendrae United would be playing the Suns and beat them.

"That all depends on Menzaille. If he is playing like he can, having shut outs, they don't have much of a chance."

Galaxy he wanted to be there, to be out in the court, trying to get the win!

"There's next season, Ranga. You'll be playing then." Elvira said softly and touched his cheek.

Next season wasn't the three-peat, was it?

Elvira watched the tears form, sparkle on his lashes. Damn that bitch! She still didn't know how, but somehow she was going to even the score with Zloenni.

***

"So you've got company," Knett said to Daron. "I've read about space sick, but reading isn't doing. Does Chan feel as rough as he looks?"

"With what Doc pumped into him, my guess is worse. I'm lucky. I'm not prone to space sickness, but Chan is. And Roban got himself sick once when he was still not used to the level of exhaustion in a pro game." Daron's mind went back to what Roban had told him.

"Sort of think of a vicious flu you can't shake but no immune engagement. Electrolytic and metabolic imbalance. Tremors. Palpitations. Oh – he might have gone paranoid by the time he gets here. It hits some guys that way – the electrolyte imbalance."

*****

Chapter 49

"They're all safely inside their rooms now," the security guard reported looking down the hallway as the doorway to Big Luis's room closed behind Hidi. She hadn't been pleased to have to show her press pass to get in, but rules were rules right now.

There was no risk of post game celebrations. Tamara knew they should be number one in the league, not lucky to be in the playoffs. Maras had brought Cailla with him. Mercan had brought someone with him too. About five minutes ago Tarell, Rundell, and Greg had headed for Marco's room, so there was probably a card game starting. That was it.

***

"Larr, can you record that for me? You know ... Isley."

Chan had told himself he'd feel better in the electrolyte bath. Apparently that was going to take time.

"Sure thing. Got a favorite channel?"

It would help Chan out during his recovery to keep hearing he was great.

Channel? Chan looked blankly at Larr. Channel ...

From his seat on the other side of the immersion tub Chan was in Rishic asked a question with his eyebrows.

"In the post game show Isley said what an honor it was to have Chan on the team." Larr said. "It is too."

He would have said more, but Rishic had his fingers to his lips. Larr looked back at Chan who had his eyes shut and was slumped against his supporting straps that would keep his head above the electrolyte richened water. That was a blessing. Maybe he could stay drowsing for a few minutes at least. Sleep wasn't likely with all the stimulants Doc had given him. But maybe he would drift until the space yacht that would take him to Gingezel arrived. If not, he and Rishic would just keep him distracted. Neither intended to budge until Doc came back saying the ship was ready to go.

Channels. Well, he'd record them all for Chan. Larr took out his compad and inserted a blank memory pac.

Chan jerked and his eyes opened.

"What were we talking about?"

***

The glowing light on his desk meant Marti was on the team space yacht. Isley knew he didn't need to, but he put a team blazer over his unitard then ran a hand first over his thinning blond hair then his mustache.

"Marti, you asked me to meet you here."

Isley was nervous, Marti decided. He damned well should be! As team owner she did not tolerate abuse of her players.

"How is Chan? When I called the infirmary they said he was in an electrolyte bath."

"Feeling lousy. Now that everyone is safely in their quarters I'll join Larr and Rishic keeping him company," Isley said mildly. "With the stimulants he's been given he doesn't have a chance of sleeping."

"He should never have been given them!" Marti's voice was ice, her eyes colder.

It would help if Marti had ever played a team sport, Isley thought. She was a good businesswoman, one of the best. Otherwise she wouldn't be in the Gingezel consortium. She was a great fashion designer. But sports - she simply did not understand sometimes.

"I gave him a choice. I asked. Kendrix would have just told him he was playing."

"Come on! Chan couldn't have said no. Was he supposed to stand up and tell you, the whole team, he didn't give a damn if they made the playoffs?"

"If I'd been Chan, I couldn't have lived with myself if I could do it and said no." Isley gave her a level look. "But if I couldn't do it, I would have said. You give your best, but you don't lie and try idiotic heroics. They backfire. That's why I left it up to him.

"Marti, you know that Rishic powered out doing the first string work three quarters of the way through the last period. No one holds it against him. He did great to hang in there that long."

Marti sighed, feeling helpless. "Another one of the jock things I don't get?"

Isley nodded.

***

Weren't a bad meal, Maras thought contentedly looking at the debris on the table in the corner of the sitting room. Not as good as the restaurant, but them fans was real mad.

Good holodrama too, his current favorite. That were one of the real good things about watching a holodrama you'd seen four or five times already. You knew when to pay attention, and when you could let your mind drift. One of the dull parts were coming, so Maras let his mind drift. Well, not exactly drift, not with Cailla sitting beside him on the couch looking so pretty and her blouse cut way down. Maras had a couch in his suite. Now that Daron weren't along he were the only one with a suite. Weren't many in the space station portels what with space stations small. It were one of the things She had negotiated.

If he let his mind drift, he might end up doing any of the number of things he'd been firmly not thinking of doing. Because if he didn't behave himself, she might think ending up in his suite like this had all been a set up, not an accident with the fans ready to riot. Then she'd never trust him again, would she? And it were an accident. He'd booked dinner in the restaurant, but they'd had to send it here.

There was a few minutes in the show of just yapping, so Maras moved his mind to his second priority after Cailla, one he could safely think about. Tedia. Were Isley goin' to send him back down, or were it his job to do something as team captain? Like thump the kid out! Teach him sense! That Tedia almost cost them the game. He'd like that, thumping the kid good.

Maras began mentally listing his faults. He did not like the fact that Tedia were just a kid. Someone had told him Tedia were a bit older than Ranga, but he sure didn't look or act it. He was scruffy too. He wore his dark hair straggly around his pale face, and he slopped around in an old T-shirt. That pale face weren't popular either. It had a pink full mouth, just like a girl's, and the dark lashes were thick and just like a girl's too. But mostly Maras did not like the way the eyes themselves, such a pale brown they was almost amber, was always watching him. It made him edgy.

Maras did not like the way Tedia acted either. He were nervy, and he smiled too much, and he sucked up to people like Marco and Greg. Then there were his voice. Tedia had a funny, soft, almost singsong voice that made it hard to understand what he were saying, even in Comlan. Hell, the kid couldn't even say his own name right. He called himself Tuh-dye-yuh, not Ted-eye-ah like it should be.

But mostly Maras did not like the fact Tedia had almost cost the team its chance for the playoffs and would probably have them out in the first round. In the process he were costing him his chances for that MVP award. What had Coach Isley been thinking, bringing a useless kid like this up from Junior, putting him on the first string to replace Roban, not using Sandlik? Tedia were lousy. He got the plays wrong, and he took chances. There must've been five times in the last two games where he shouldn't have even taken a shot, given the angle he were at. The fact he had scored once, a good average, didn't count with Maras. You didn't waste a shot until it were real good odds. Tedia belonged back in junior. Now, before the trading deadline.

Cailla glanced sideways, and to her surprise saw Maras scowling. It couldn't be the holodrama. They were actually in a relatively innocuous segment of what had to be the worst, most violent action drama she'd ever seen.

"Maras, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Maras –"

"There's a good part coming up."

The two gangs had a big fight in a couple seconds and some of the guys had moves they sure didn't learn on a holodrama set.

Cailla took control from his hand and turned the drama off.

"Cailla! What'd you do that for?"

She tucked control safely out of reach under her far leg.

"I want to know what's wrong. We can turn the drama back on a minute." But not if I can help it.

Maras had seen that little trick with the remote. He were out of luck.

Reluctantly he said, "I were thinking that Tedia is going to cost us the semifinals."

Cailla nodded sympathetically. It was really going to hurt, being champions two years running, then only making it to the lowest level of playoff.

"He certainly isn't settling in, is he?"

"Not settling in?"

Indignant at that understatement, Maras began a detailed litany of exactly every mistake Tedia had made since his arrival.

Cailla half listened. It was probably just as well to let Maras sound off. She knew he wouldn't be half as upset if Tedia wasn't on his wing, and he wasn't the one looking bad not being able to play to Tedia. But in her mind's eye she was seeing Tedia. He was so slender, so agile, so lithe. It would take a really good gymnastics coach to keep him that way once he started filling out. But right now, he had moves she envied. There was that really unusual twist he used on passes. And some of those shots he took. She wouldn't have dared to try them. The angles were too complex and disorienting too –. Cailla's mouth formed a silent 'oh!'. She mentally reviewed the one trickiest shot, the one that had scored. She'd watched it a couple times to see just how he'd done it. Yes, it was possible ... just possible.

But what good did that do if Tedia couldn't integrate with the team? That just happened sometimes. It was no one's fault. And Tedia was definitely not working. The kid knew it too. She could see it in his face, those strange eyes darting every which way. He looked like a young, frightened animal out there in the court, trying to watch every way at once, not sure what direction an attack would come from.

Cailla had her second insight. No, not an attack. The Octagla ball. Tedia wasn't anticipating the play. He was just watching every which way, hoping he wouldn't miss a pass, and using those incredibly fast reflexes to cover up and praying no one would notice. But why? Well, she'd ask Maras about that too, but first things first.

Maras finished his litany of faults, concluding with, "The coach should send him back down while we still can!"

Cailla shook her head. "You should give him more time. The first semi-final game and the trading deadline are four days off."

"You're soft on him," Maras said accusingly with an expression that did not bode well for Tedia when he thumped him.

She was, but not the way he thought. She felt sorry for the kid. He was obviously trying so hard.

Cailla said firmly, "I am not Maras." She reached a handout to stroke his cheek. "I happen to like men, not boys."

Maras caught the hand, pressing the fingers to his lips, content then and there to never think of Tedia again in his life. Cailla couldn't mind, could she? She'd touched him first. Maybe he could really kiss her again, without them media pests around.

But Cailla was determined to share her discovery. She extracted her hand.

"Maras, pay attention! There are two real reasons why Tedia needs another chance."

Didn't want to hear two reasons. Didn't want to hear the name Tedia. Damn that Tedia, messing up his night now too!

"Name one," he said acidly.

"All right." Cailla looked him square in the face. "I think Tedia is a roof runner."

###

About the Authors

Donald S. Hall, PhD. has been equally interested in sports, physics, and computing, so inventing the space sport Octagla was natural. Don played Junior A hockey, winning MVP for his team in their 1969 playoff run to the national semi-finals, and was invited to the Los Angeles Kings training camp. At graduate school he played goal for one year for the varsity team. He was also an avid box lacrosse player, playing goal at both the Junior and Senior levels.

He and his co-author Judi Suni Hall, PhD. have shared their lives and careers since marrying as undergrads. They both did PhD.'s in theoretical physics, then moved into industry and worked at AECL, Canada's nuclear research lab. As Technical Director of AECL's risk analysis consultancy Judi worked with a number of industries, including the Canadian Space Agency. Don's research on expert systems led to collaboration with some of Canada's top AI researchers.

Their lives were changed by a severely disabling virus and 10 years were a write off. Don now runs Apps & More Software Design and has the caregiver role as Judi is still severely disabled.

In addition to writing science fiction, Judi and Don are internationally published haiga poets, fine artists, and award winning surface designers.

*****

Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by Judi and Don Hall:

The Gingezel Series

Gingezel 1: The Limit

Gingezel 2: From Bad to Worse

Gingezel 3: Fault

Gingezel 4: Hacker

The Octagla Series

Octagla 1: Slingshot Play

Octagla 2: Rematch

Octagla 3: Semifinals (coming next in the Octagla series)

*****

To learn more about Octagla and the Octagla players, and to see related art, please visit the official Gingezel Sci Fi site www.gingezelscifi.com..

