

Octagla 1: Slingshot Play

by

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

Copyright Gingezel™ Inc. 2014

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

"Pendrae! Pendrae!!"

"Tamara! Tamara!!"

Competing chants rose, those from the home planet Pendrae dominating as portals opened at opposing sides of the Octagla court and the teams jetted in fast. You could hardly think as the crowd sounds from the planetary arenas selected by vote around the galaxy were linked in to the space station Octagla court and contributed to the din.

Coach Isley ignored his team setting up the intricate pattern that would take them past each of the eight sides of the court. His whole attention was on Pendrae United. If anyone could spoil their chances of taking the Galactic championship three seasons in a row, it was Pendrae United. They had beaten Pendrae United in the seventh game of the seven-game finals for the last two years, and Pendrae United were bitterly determined that would not happen again.

This set of three games would largely determine that. Tamara was in the number one slot, Pendrae United in third. If they took two out of these three games, they would be the top team in the playoffs because their last three games were against Ennup 10. Ennup 10 was strong this year, but on a good night Tarell could hold them to one or two goals. And Roban knew every soft spot that their goalie had. He would run the score up high enough in the first ten minutes that Tarell wouldn't need that good night.

First though, they had to beat Pendrae United. Isley's eyes ran over the opposing team once more. They looked ready, hungry, and as fit as they had ever been. His eyes came to rest on Jaik, the undisputed star of the league. Mean and dirty Jaik, Pendrae United's inside left winger. The man who could single handedly spoil their chances. How was Jaik looking tonight? Isley looked for the signs he knew so well, not only as a coach but as a former player, a member of the Galactic Octagla Hall of Fame.

Isley still looked like a player. He had the standard winger's build, just slightly above mid height and not heavy-boned. His weight was only up a kilo and a half from when he played inner right, and his muscles were still rock hard. He hadn't lost his eye or coordination either. Isley knew he could still pass a ball exactly to the center of the net of any player's stick, no matter what their position was, and that his accuracy for shots on goal was as good as a lot of the journeymen in the league. He knew he'd lost the edge on his timing though. And he winced every time he tried to imagine what it would feel like to wake up at his age after taking the pounding each of his players took every night they were in the court.

No one had ever taken the Galactic Octagla championship three times running. Isley nervously licked his bottom lip and stroked his chin, his hand moving on to first his tidy mustache, then his thinning blond hair. He remembered that no one had done this every practice, every game, every waking moment. Still, if there was a team that could achieve the three-peat it was this team.

Isley shifted his attention to Tamara, each team member now twisting and swirling, taking full advantage of being weightless. Their routine was a little touch that a ballet choreographer had taught them. It invariably impressed the fans and got sissy catcalls from the other teams. The guys were used to the insults though. Being taunted by the other players for the fact that their team was owned by Marti Panasi, a fashion designing grandmother, was part of playing for Tamara. Marti had taken the team in a relatively civilized divorce. Her husband had taken the tropical resort. Isley still couldn't figure that one.

Marti's designer instincts showed in the team's new uniforms as well. This year's gleaming green and black were a somber counterpoint to Pendrae's iridescent orange and red. Isley liked the new colors. They had a hard edge.

The teams came to land in a parallel lines on the surface arbitrarily called the floor of the Octagla court. Microphones picked up and amplified the thud as the boots hit, then adhered to the surface.

"Heading the lineup for Tamara is their center and team captain, Daron."

Isley watched as Daron stepped forward to boos from the Pendrae United fans, cheers from the Tamara fans, and calls of 'Superstud!' from female fans from either planet. Daron was obviously in one of his better moods. He gave the crowd an easy smile and negligently waved his Octagla stick over his head with the same easy grace his passes had. Then he removed his helmet so the fans could see his face and repeated the wave. He had black hair, fair skin, and what women who were connoisseurs of such things called bedroom eyes.

Nearing twenty five, Daron was a small man, compact and muscular. You had to be to succeed as an Octagla center. You also had to have the kind of coordination that let you place a shot precisely on the ten centimeter by ten centimeter portion of the goal you wanted to hit from any of the eight sides of the Octagla court or anywhere in the free space in between. And you had to have the kind of strength that made sure that shot hit the net with a velocity of at least one hundred and fifty kilometers per hour. But mostly you had to have nerve.

The reason was because every now and again the team would get itself into a tight spot where there was no way out except a fast goal. That meant a slingshot play. A slingshot play was very simple. Your two huge massive defensemen positioned themselves solidly on one of the walls. As you flew past they grabbed you and catapulted you with all of their force into the mid-court space. The trick was to give you enough additional velocity and torque that only they, and preferably your forwards, knew where you were going. Then with adroit use of your jet packs and proper screening from the forwards you positioned yourself.

Meanwhile the forwards were distracting the goalie and defense with deke-out moves, working the ball up the court between them. After all, only a fool would count on this really being a slingshot play. Usually they weren't. At the last second there was a pass to you, and it had to be perfect, right to the end of your net so all you had to do was take your swing and release the ball. No time delays, no telegraphing. Instant goal.

Properly done with the right momentum, torque, and screening, the goalie didn't have a chance on a slingshot play. The shot was taken so close to the goal that all he could do was to stand there and look stupid as the ball he never saw until the last second went right past him. Or if he was the fidgety type, move in the wrong direction and look even more stupid. Once in maybe a hundred times the goalie by sheer chance moved in the right direction and you hit him. Then everybody on his team got hysterical and jumped all over him and he got the MVP award for the game, not you. But you didn't mind that, because both of you knew it was sheer luck and that he would spend the night with a bone-deep purple-green lump the size of a fist somewhere on his anatomy, seriously meditating on standing still the next time so you missed him.

But most of the time the goalie looked stupid. Octagla goalies did not like looking stupid. Their coaches did not like looking stupid. The team did not like looking stupid. You all knew there wasn't a damn thing he could have done, but that wasn't the point. You had to have actually played Octagla to know just how little the goalie could do in that situation.

Most of the sportscasters and almost all of the fans had never played Octagla. It was a sport of the rich elite. All they saw was some guy who made a fortune just standing there watching while the ball sailed past him into the goal. The goalie on the team half of them had bet hard earned credits on. Fans tended to get hostile about that kind of behavior. The game's commissioners also tended to get very nosy if there were enough allegations of a fixed game.

This put a lot of pressure on the opposing defensemen during a slingshot play, and that was where the requirement for nerve by a center came in. The defensemen invariably opted for one of two simple solutions. A cross-check to the head or face, or a butt end to the groin. Anything else had the possibility of being ineffective. A nice clean check simply repositioned the center so it was the defenseman, not the goalie who looked stupid. Bad move if you were that defenseman.

Taking the center out too soon, cleanly or not, just meant the forwards would stop deking the goalie out and actually take a shot while you were out of position. Worse move as a defenseman. Not only did that make you look stupid, it really got the coach down on you. The only really safe route was to wait until the center had the ball in his stick, then deck him well enough that the shot went wild and careened around the walls. Then he looked stupid, not you. And the two really sure ways to deck him were the cross-check or the butt end.

Butt ends were illegal of course, and you got somewhere between five minutes in the penalty box and the rest of the season. Cross-checks were legal, but not deliberate checks to the head. That was an automatic season suspension. So whichever you tried, the trick was to only get the five minutes. This meant making it look like an honest mistake, a clean check that went wrong because you slightly misjudged the center's momentum and torque. Any good defenseman mastered this art of deception by the time they were eighteen. They knew, the poor center knew, and the referees knew it was not an honest mistake. But it was a tradition to reward artistry. A really good show of innocence only got you five.

So to be an Octagla center you had to have the kind of nerve where you figured you could get that shot off a split-second before the defenseman hit you, so he would decide it wasn't worth the penalty. If you didn't, or he hit you anyway just for the hell of it, you had to laugh it off. Or deck the son-of-a-bitch. Either way, it gave you the kind of attitude that made the rest of the problems in life easy. Superstud had this attitude.

The polite applause due to an inductee into the Galactic Octagla Hall of Fame continued as Daron stepped back. He had been inducted last season after taking his second MVP award after the championship. As far as Isley was concerned Daron had fully earned the honor. He was the best center the league had seen since Torin, and he just kept getting better. Isley followed Daron's look to the media booth. Hidi was there, right at the front. She was worth looking at, a tawny, glamorous, impeccably groomed blonde whose credentials as a celebrity reporter got her into the booth usually reserved for the sportscasters covering the game. Isley didn't follow the celebrity gossip, but his wife did and she said Hidi was very good at her job. Isley liked her. She had the sort of resilience and determination that would have made him look at her twice if she had been a player at tryouts.

Hidi was as close as Daron came to having a regular girlfriend, but as far as Isley could figure Daron was more interested in keeping the nickname Superstud than he was in settling down. As a happily married man with almost grown children, Isley thought Daron was making a mistake this time. If he didn't watch it, Hidi would be the one that got away that he regretted for the rest of his life. Tonight though she had to catch a flight shortly after the game, so Daron would be on the prowl again.

The rest of the team would be on strict curfew and get a lot of rest but Isley had given up trying to control Daron. It was a total waste of time. He sighed. He had tried early on. But when he called as part of the curfew checks, more often than not there had been a woman in Daron's room. Depending on his mood Daron would laugh and say 'So fine me', or curse and say 'So fine me'. But either way the woman had stayed. The next salary negotiation round, Daron had settled with the second-highest salary in a league with no salary cap, but he had been in a foul mood. Jaik had signed higher with Pendrae United. The following day Isley had received a lump payment for an amount equal to fining Daron every night for the next year. With it was a message saying 'Stay off my back Isley unless I show up unfocussed!' Daron never did, and Isley had stayed off his back. He suppressed a smile. Daron was still in a foul mood after every salary negotiation - Jaik was still the highest paid player in the league.

*****

Chapter 2

"And starting inside left wing is Roban."

Roban stepped forward, looking exactly like what he was, a shy, clean-cut blond farm boy. Born and raised on Kytherial, a relatively new agrarian planet, he had learned Octagla playing in the newly established university level league. He had only played two years when a scout picked him up. Isley knew that as far as Roban was concerned, even though he'd more than earned the position, he shouldn't be here with the pros.

Roban wasn't a big winger. Compared to Daron, he had a bit more height, and his frame was slender not compact. That was all that was needed. The main demands on him in the Octagla court were agility and coordination, not sheer strength and nerve. Of course he could fire a ball into whatever ten centimeter by ten centimeter part of the goal he chose to as well as Daron could. Better in fact, because compared to the rest of what he was expected to do, taking a shot like that was dead easy. He and his counterparts on wing were the ones who passed the ball up the court. A stationary net with a goalie, however good he was, was nothing compared to hitting the very tip of a stick that was both traveling and often rotating at considerable velocity. You had to have superb coordination to do that, much less make it look easy.

The other demand was intelligence since Roban called the plays for his line. Octagla plays were complex, and games never went as planned. With eight walls as active playing surfaces plus all the space in between, executing the plays called for exceptional spatial analysis abilities, plus the agility to get into the right position in the right spot in space. Being the one calling the plays to adapt to the changing conditions in the game was even harder. Roban had it down to a fine art. This was in part natural ability, in part dedication and practice, and in part his secret weapon. When he wasn't playing, Roban was analyzing simulations of the games with the help of his mathematician uncle, Barranb.

Isley watched as Roban removed his helmet, gave the crowd an apologetic smile, and got even more boos from the Pendrae United fans than Daron. With a nervous gesture he pushed a strand of his dark blond hair out of his plain face. Isley knew that the fact Roban was currently the top scorer in the league, three goals ahead of Daron and five ahead of Jaik, was totally unreal to him. It didn't surprise Isley. Roban had some of the best moves Isley had ever seen and he was the calm thinker on the team. Nothing bothered him; he could plan the most complicated plays in a split second, he executed them even faster, and he never fought.

In fact, if they got the three-peat it would be because Roban was having his best year. His shattered hand was finally totally recovered, and since he had played left-handed while it recovered he was now ambidextrous – an advantage that largely accounted for his being top scorer.

Yes, with Roban recovered, this was the best team he had coached. As Roban stepped back to increasing boos, Isley scanned along the team. No doubt about it, they were the best. Isley had quite a few years of coaching experience to base this on. He had retired at age twenty-nine after achieving the league MVP award and being inducted into the Galactic Octagla Hall of Fame, something he had never imagined even in his wildest dreams.

Isley had been a journeyman; a good journeyman, but a journeyman and he knew it. Then in the semifinals there had been a rash of injuries and he and three others had moved up to first string. It had been magic. They hadn't been able to do a thing wrong, and they had taken the galactic championship in straight games. Isley, not a believer in magic, or luck other than the bad kind, had got out while the going was good and shown up the next year as assistant coach. A few years later he'd got the offer of Head Coach for Tamara, taken it and stayed. He and Marti got along.

"Ranga is starting as outer left wing."

Ranga stepped forward, helmet already under his arm, chin up, tension evident in every line of his body. His arrogant hostile expression clearly said 'I'm here. Does anyone want to make something of it?'.

Isley knew this was as much for the benefit of his teammates as the opposition, but Pendrae United wouldn't take it that way, so Ranga was giving himself a rougher ride than he had to. That was nothing new though. Ranga had been doing that to himself ever since he came up as an underage rookie last year.

Isley had to admit that if he had one really high strung, difficult player, it was Ranga. The kid was good, better than good. Isley didn't argue that. He wouldn't have moved Ranga up to first string to play with Daron and Roban three games ago, and dropped his most seasoned veteran Larr back to second string if the kid wasn't good. And the move had worked. Those three were a dream to watch.

But Ranga was too young. Isley was not sure he approved of the underage draft. Some of the lads were mature enough to handle it, but Ranga wasn't. Still, what could he do? If they hadn't drafted him, another team would have. And Tamara was at least Ranga's home planet. That made him the darling of the home crowd, and meant he could see a bit more of his family. That latter was not a blessing in Isley's eyes.

Isley was painfully aware that Ranga was drug lord Ghen Kulgalu's only child. He felt terribly sorry for Ranga and had done what he could to shield him from negative publicity. So far, either his efforts or plain old-fashioned fear had worked. There hadn't been a single comment from a sportscaster. It couldn't last though. Kulgalu was written all over Ranga – the strong nose, the deep set eyes, the olive complexion, the full soft mouth, a mane of unruly brown hair that flowed out from under his helmet. Sooner or later, someone would say something, and Isley honestly didn't know what would happen then.

Ranga half turned to the crowd, smiling and waving his stick as Daron had done, but less comfortably. He seemed to have taken Daron as a role model. Isley had no problems with this as long as it only applied to the Octagla court. Daron, besides being exceptionally talented, was as professional as they came.

As an off-the-court role model, Isley had reservations, and these weren't only about the way Daron used women. With Daron, he worried about the woman getting hurt, but they never seemed to mind. They kept coming back for more. Ranga though was the type to get himself really messed up with a bad news woman and ruin his career.

However his main reservations included Daron's retirement plans. Isley had been around on Tamara long enough to have heard all the hints and innuendos. Officially on retirement Daron would go to work in his father's business, Soimvell Shipping, where his sister already worked. Unofficial word was that Soimvell Shipping handled all of the drugs Ghen claimed he didn't produce. And even more unofficial word, the kind of warning you were given then told you never heard, was that Daron's father was Ghen's chief enforcer. If any of this was true, it wasn't what Ranga needed since he was so obviously trying to escape that world.

Ranga got a very subdued reaction, a smatter of polite applause. Isley suspected the largely Pendrae United crowd figured Ranga's move up to first string improved their team's odds of winning. Well, he thought with a satisfied smile, they were going to see just how wrong that idea was.

Suddenly amongst the applause was a chant of "Ranga! Ranga!" It took Isley a moment to locate the source. It was a group of seven girls, aged sixteen to eighteen, and all very fashionably messy looking. The obligatory weightless unitards to modulate blood pressure were designer for these girls and brilliant colors. Over them they had shorts, little wrap tops, and the popular wide gemstone cuffs. The children of any of the space station staff couldn't afford to dress like that. The girls had obviously come up as a group on one of their parents' space yachts. Well, Ranga had the sort of broody good looks that really went over with girls in that age group. Isley transferred his attention back to Ranga. He had spotted the girls too, because his smile was real as he stepped back in line. He looked at Daron and Daron grinned and winked. Isley sighed. So there was a little off the court coaching going on. That was just what he needed.

*****

Chapter 3

"Starting on inner right wing is Mercan."

Mercan stepped forward to solid applause from both the Tamara and Pendrae United fans. Although he was Tamara born and had played for them all of his career, fans galaxy wide liked Mercan. He put on a good show. He obviously had fun and he made playing with or against him fun, so he was popular with a lot of the players on the other teams as well.

He was a small man, almost small enough to be a center, Isley thought, but he didn't quite have the strength or the shot speed. His coloring was café au lait and he wore his curly black hair in a long halo framing his head that made it difficult to shove a helmet on and position it properly. So unlike the rest of the players he didn't take his helmet off for introductions. Helmets had to be positioned carefully for the AI brainwave monitoring sensor network to work optimally. This artificial intelligence system let the players control their jet packs with precision.

As he grinned and punched the air for his fans, got a louder roar, then mimed a shot on goal, Isley reflected that there were times when Mercan hadn't quite outgrown the rich brat stage. His father, Bruce Oondo, was founder of Populus Robotics, the galaxy's largest robot company, and Mercan tended to simply expect things to go the way he saw them. Like now, when he was blatantly playing up to the crowd to the visible disgust of the Pendrae United team. He'd pay for that.

Mercan was good, otherwise he wouldn't be on the team. Fast and unpredictable with a short fuse, he caused about twice as many fights as any other two players on the team. But they blew over quickly. It was simply his style. If he took offense at something another player did or said, he simply belted him. The other guy inevitably took a swing or so back, but it rarely got dirty on either side. Usually they both got ten, and by the time they had finished sitting it out they had agreed to go drinking after the game. He would never win an MVP, but he had been in contention several times and Isley figured he had two, maybe three good years left.

"On the outside right wing is Rundell."

Rundell stepped forward to boos from the Pendrae United fans. He had one of the best behind the back shots in the league and was a consistently high scorer. He also played rough.

Out of the court he was a good-natured handsome reddish blond with a broken nose that hadn't set quite right. He was quite possibly, Isley thought, the most popular player with his teammates. No, make that the second most popular. The most popular had to be Big Luis.The two made the basis of a lot of good parties, and a lot of good-natured clowning around on the spaceflights. Since Rundell married a little over a year ago, he had quieted down a bit at the parties, but he still went. The change was that he left alone. It was nice to have a couple guys like that on the team, they kept tension from building up.

In the three years since he picked Rundell up from Terra, Isley had never seen him start a fight. He finished a lot of them though, and when he did he didn't just get a minor penalty. He took twenty, or a game. This made him unpopular with the opposing teams. Now he got a one fingered salute from Jaik, which triggered a series of louder boos from the crowd, reminding Isley that Rundell and Jaik had an ongoing feud and some unfinished business.

Rundell didn't let it pass. He made a gesture back, one he had picked up from Larr. It went right past the crowd who were not Suranan, which was a very good thing from Isley's point of view. If they had been on Surana and Rundell had pulled that stunt, it would have taken an armed escort to get them safely back to the dressing room. And they'd be stuck there, sleeping on the benches until things quieted down. As it was, Jaik must have had friends from Surana too, or perhaps he had also learned it from Larr when they had played together, because his eyes narrowed and his glare intensified.

Well, maybe he could use this to their advantage. Isley toyed with the idea. Jaik was Pendrae born, and the home planet's darling. He was mean, dirty, egotistical, and their highest scorer. If Isley could arrange for him to lose his temper early on and get Rundell to keep his hands to himself when the fight started, it might get Jaik out of the way for twenty minutes, or the game. Getting Jaik out was part of the game strategy, but using Rundell to do it was risky.

"Starting on the left defense is Maras."

Maras stepped forward with an expression that could only be described as grim. He had his favorite two-handed grip on his stick, the grip he used so effectively in cross-checks, in fights, and with an interesting twisting motion to deliver a sort of sideways butt end. He looked prepared to single-handedly take on the entire Pendrae United team then and there.

This was probably the case, Isley thought, as he looked at the truly massive black man. Maras had played for Coach Kendrix on Pendrae United a part season and it had been a disaster. As far as Isley could see, by the end of three games they had come to a mutual consent - the coach couldn't stand Maras, and Maras couldn't stand the coach or most of the team either. He had been dumped shortly after that and it would have been the end of his career, but Isley had used up a lot of goodwill with team owner Marti and picked him up.

Isley believed in Maras. He believed he was a truly gifted player, and not just a thug style enforcer. His belief had paid off. Maras was largely recovered from his truly appalling leg injury and was trying by sheer effort to get the league MVP this year. It rarely went to a defenseman, and it would be tough to outperform Roban, but Maras honestly might do it.

Jaik gave Maras a visible one finger salute like he had Rundell, and mouthed something Isley couldn't lipread. Maras ignored that, his ugly face impassive as the boos reached a deafening level. He stood there the required number of seconds without removing his helmet, then stolidly stepped back.

That was a good sign, Isley decided. It took a lot for Maras to lose his temper, but when he did he was not just mean, he was dangerous. He had done prison time twice for assault, and would have a third time if Daron had bothered to press charges. That, and another time when it had been Daron who laid Maras open in the dressing room were incidents Isley preferred to forget. Still, so far this year Daron and Maras hadn't been at each other's throats. Maybe that was a good sign too.

Isley gave Kendrix a cold stare that went unseen since Kendrix was turned talking to his trainer. Kendrix was in the group of coaches who had taken advantage of Maras and almost ruined him. Between the facts Maras was mentally slow and he was indifferent to brutality, he had spent too much of his time in the Octagla court as an enforcer. As far as Isley could tell, Maras would do anything to stay in the galactic pro Octagla circuit. After all, his alternative was to return to the Terran megacity tenement he'd come from and try to exist doing manual labor.

Every now and again a player like Maras showed up. Isley could remember four others. They weren't the children of the rich who could afford trips up and down to the space station just to learn to play. They weren't the children of middle class professionals who caught someone's eye and thereafter the family did what they had to for the kid to get training. They were lower-class people, identified by an educational athletic system as extraordinary. In Maras's case it was his size combined with reflexes. He hadn't had training. His school system couldn't afford it. His learning had been playing enforcer in the minor planetary leagues.

Usually, like Maras, these men didn't fit in. They played the game, banked the credits and kept to themselves. Then sometime in their late twenties they went home and lived a life beyond their wildest dreams. Isley worried about Maras. Unlike these others he wanted so badly to fit in.

*****

Chapter 4

"On right defense is Big Luis."

The announcer's voice brought Isley out of his reverie. He watched as one of the few men in the galaxy who were a match to Maras in size stepped forward.

Big Luis had been called Big Luis since he arrived in the league a total unknown from the resort water planet Azuramer. A scout on vacation there had taken one look at Luis' size and had gone into a twenty minute reverie, ignoring the scenery. Then he'd said, 'Are you coordinated or clumsy as hell?'

At the time Big Luis had been crewing a sailing boat as a summer job, having not won the job he wanted, doing some highly technical marine biology experiments for a professor he admired. In response he'd done a sharp turn that almost capsized the boat, righted the boat again, grinned, and said, 'Is that coordinated enough?' When the scout, who wasn't a sailor, stopped shaking, he'd said, 'You'll do.' The rest was history, Coach Isley thought with satisfaction. History shaped by himself and three All-Star retired defensemen he'd brought in to train Big Luis.

Big Luis stepped forward, an overwhelmingly large Latino with a good-natured grin on his face. Actually, Big Luis was ten kilos lighter than Maras, but with his bone structure and carriage he looked bigger. And, Isley thought, he was the one man in the league who could out-eat Maras. Big Luis had a highly revved metabolism.

Removing his helmet, Big Luis gave the crowd a half salute with his stick. He got about an equal mix of cheers and boos. The boos came because he was one of the best defenseman in the league. Besides being huge, he was smart, agile, and believed in a proactive approach. He wasn't mean or dirty, but it was definitely heads up time when Big Luis was in the court if you didn't want to miss a few games. About one third of the players on any given team had forgotten that. Once.

The cheers and applause were because Big Luis now had friends on pretty well every space station and every planet that had an Octagla team at the galactic level. He was a naturally gregarious man, and he loved to party. He partied to celebrate a win. He partied to cheer himself up when they lost a game. He partied to celebrate any event in his life. His parties were big and noisy, and he took a 'the more the merrier' approach. If you had your space yacht docked at the station and wanted to come along, great. If you were an off-shift janitor and wanted to come along, great. It was all the same to Big Luis. Usually the parties lasted the 'night' after a game, if you could call the arbitrary eight hour time interval after a game the night. Sometimes, if there was a significant break between games, they spilled over planetside to some rich man's estate for a day or two. If so, Big Luis was invariably asked to come back on his next visit.

Big Luis was also popular because his parties were free, fun, and safe. The security guards could relax. If a teammate or member of the opposing team started to get out of line, Big Luis just straight up told him to clean up his act or get thumped. Non team members simply didn't dare act up with Big Luis there, and Maras usually only a meter or so away from Big Luis like a big black shadow. Undesirables like drug dealers or pimps never showed up twice either. Big Luis had an even simpler solution for them. He had Daron take them aside and explain the facts of life to them in language they'd understand. Big Luis knew for sure Daron worked off-season for his father as one of drug lord Ghen Kulgalu's enforcers because Daron had talked to Big Luis a couple of times. The undesirables tended to leave and never come back.

Fathers of pretty young things liked Big Luis too. Happily unmarried himself, he came from a huge extended family and took family responsibilities seriously. Once, when he'd seen a security guard frowning because Daron was dancing with a cute little redhead, he'd asked why. The guard had said it was his brother's daughter, and no offense, but Daron had a bad reputation. Big Luis had said not to worry, he'd keep an eye on her, keep her out of mischief, and see her safely into her dad's home. He'd learned from his second sister's tricks that the door wasn't far enough. It had worked. The young lady had never guessed she was being babysat, but it was Big Luis who took her straight home unbedded, and sent flowers in the morning. Word had got around, and he knew the woes of a lot of space station fathers now.

Surveying the crowd, Big Luis made eye contact with and got a cheerful wave from a restaurant owner who just loved seeing Big Luis and Maras walk in the door, two corporate executives, a hotel maid, and an air conditioner maintenance man with a delectable sixteen-year-old brunette sitting beside him. Her name was Cinthe, Big Luis knew from their last visit, and she was looking much too adoring. Big Luis didn't want puppy love. He'd set her up with Mikey tonight and just made sure the kid knew his life was on the line if he did more than steal a few kisses.

As he stepped back into line, Big Luis casually let his eyes slide past Jaik. He really was sour. Big Luis risked a side-of-his-eye look at Rundell. He didn't dare turning or speaking for fear of telegraphing to Jaik. Rundell was looking game, so Big Luis caught Coach Isley's eye.

Trust Big Luis to have not missed a thing, and have already figured out how to capitalize on it, Isley thought. Without hesitation, he gave a barely perceptible nod. Between Big Luis and Rundell, Jaik would be out of the game in the first period, with only himself to blame. Isley would not have agreed if it had been Maras. Coach Isley did not believe in the kind of play Maras had been used for by too many coaches - to take players out for a game or season by a really dirty check. He knew Maras would sooner stay in the game, not take a couple game suspension, but all the same, he'd do it. And he was reasonably sure Maras understood that he did not like that kind of play, but only reasonably sure. This was too crucial a game to risk Maras having a relapse to old habits.

Big Luis would not be a problem though. Isley knew that if he ever did break his self-imposed limitation on not using violence to win and asked Big Luis to really do someone in, Big Luis would flatly refuse. Big Luis was too warmhearted. Besides, Big Luis didn't need to resort to extreme violence. He was quite effective between his proactive style and playing what he called a psychological game. As far as Isley could figure out, that meant watching the opposition players and trying to figure out what drove them nuts.

It had taken Big Luis less than two games to figure out how to get Jaik to do something really stupid. He simply ignored him, like he was no potential threat. Then, when Jaik did make a move to score, somehow Big Luis was there checking him or blocking the shot and making Jaik look inept. If there was one thing Jaik couldn't stand, it was not looking like the star.

If that didn't work, Big Luis added verbal taunts. He did not directly insult Jaik. That never worked with any of the pros. They shed it. But Big Luis had an on court habit of pretending he was a sportscaster doing a running commentary of the game, only it was the type that no one would ever dare air. He said it kept him focused on the overall picture, otherwise he tended to watch a single player too much. The commentary had been getting funnier and funnier too, and as well as broadcasting it to his team mates, if he thought it would do any good he raised his voice so the opposition could hear it too.

Isley suspected the humor was a conscious effort to keep his fellow defenseman Maras amused and from tensing up. It worked, sort of. Maras tended to grin to himself more out there, but sometimes it would be three or four days later when he ambled up to Big Luis, chuckling to himself, and asked, 'Was you sayin'...' Still, Big Luis was one of the players who never put Maras down for being slow. He'd just say, 'That's right', and laugh all over again like the joke was fresh.

As it was, Isley could already imagine Big Luis. 'And here comes Jaik the Snake, trying to set himself up for a pass. He thinks he can score because we got Mikey in the net. But don't worry Mikey, Jaik couldn't hit the side of a space transport. Oops, focus time! Cinnit has some brains and he's passing to Koji, not Jaik. He's cutting across. Look out Mikey! Nice check Maras! Hey Koji, you still breathing?' It would go on like that until Jaik had had it and took a swing at either Big Luis or Rundell who would be aiding and abetting all the way.

All the same, this was an important game and he couldn't afford any of his key players out of it. So, while he still had Big Luis's eye, Isley firmly spread five fingers across his arm. Don't you dare get yourself more than a five-minute penalty.

Big Luis mocked affront, in the 'do you think I'm that stupid?' category. He rarely took penalties.

"And starting in goal is Mikey."

Isley watched the speculative glances that turned into grins on the Pendrae United players' faces. It was easy to see they figured they just got an easy start. But Mikey was ready for this, and he needed more play against the best teams.

Mikey took a hesitant step forward forgetting to remove his helmet until Tarell said something to him. Then the helmet came off showing a young, not quite cute blond who looked scared.

*****

Chapter 5

The roar from the crowd increased. "Pendrae! Pendrae! Pendrae!"

"Starting at center for Pendrae is Cinnit."

No one, including Cinnit heard a word of it, or needed to. On the unheard cue he stepped forward, his face one big cheerful smile as always. As the roar increased he removed his helmet, grinned, and looped his stick about his head with the same easy grace Daron had. Cinnit was one centimeter taller than Daron, just as compact and strong. His breeding was galactic mongrel, but Oriental genes from somewhere in his history dominated his looks.

Had Cinnit finally found the team he was going to stick with, Isley wondered. This was Cinnit's second year with Pendrae United, as long as Cinnit had ever stayed with a team before asking to be traded. Isley hadn't heard of a planned move, but then he wouldn't be approached. Cinnit was good, not quite as good as Daron, but good. He would never accept second string. That was a pity. If Cinnit was restless, he'd like to see if he could get a trade for the Tamara second string center, Red. Red was one of the few problems on the team. He just was not living up to potential.

"And starting inside left wing is Jaik."

The home crowd went wild as their Pendrae-born darling and the team captain stepped forward. Jaik ignored them. His whole focus was on Rundell, and he was looking mean. Good, Isley thought, studying the pale face stubbled with about a day's growth of black beard. Jaik was going to be out in the first quarter. As Isley watched, Big Luis leaned over and said something to Rundell that must have carried through the din, because Jaik's face darkened. Although Jaik was consistently in the top five scorers in the league, Isley did not envy Coach Kendrix for having him. He must be hard to control. Still, Kendrix might not have a problem with Jaik. They were a good match, mean, dirty and with egos the size of a red giant sun.

"Starting outer left wing is Koji."

The level of roar stayed constant, and Isley approved. In his mind Koji was Pendrae United's best player. He was smart, observant, and professional. A distant cousin of Torin, that great Hall of Fame roof running center, Koji was small for a winger. But he had no choice where he played. He was simply ten kilos too massive to be a center. As a winger, he compensated for his stature with the moves, and smarts. The result was he was the second top scorer on Pendrae United.

"And starting inside right wing is Bralin."

It was no surprise Bralin was starting. He'd been brought in this season as part of the thirty percent turnover there had been on the team after losing the championship. Bralin understood his job spec. Win, and don't be picky about how. He was a tough, hard blond about a hand taller than Roban, and he tended to stick to Roban like glue. It was a good thing Roban wasn't a fighter, Isley thought, or he'd take the occasional swing at Bralin to get some breathing space. Since Bralin enjoyed using his fists that would be bad news. As it was, Roban just outmaneuvered and outplayed him.

"And starting outside right wing is Sabian."

Sabian stepped forward, his blue eyes hard and impassive, his mouth set in a thin tight line. So... so ... thought Isley, biting his lip as he tried to turn an impression into a coherent thought. He knew Sabian well. He was a good man. He'd coached him and lost him reluctantly in the multiplayer deal that brought Daron to the team. So... he would have liked to have heard the pre-game pep talk that put that expression on Sabian's face. What a pity he had ended up with Pendrae United, not the Pendrae Suns like the original trade. He would have flourished there. His passes were as good as anyone's in the league but Roban's, and he was rapidly improving his shots on goal. It looked like he would finish the season Pendrae United's third or fourth top scorer.

"Starting left defense is Ferdik."

Ferdik stepped forward to less earsplitting applause. He was one of those blond giants Pendrae seemed to breed. He was a relatively recent addition to Pendrae United, the second defenseman to fill the slot Maras had vacated. To Isley he was a strange choice for the team. Not that Ferdik wasn't good, he was very good. But he had a similar dislike of extreme violence to Big Luis, and Kendrix tended to like his defensemen to be thugs. Unconsciously Isley's eyes went to Jonagar. He'd ended more than one career.

"Starting right defense is Jonagar."

Isley watched in distaste as Jonagar stepped forward. He was another blond giant from Pendrae, but there the similarity to Ferdik ended. As Jonagar's shrewd eyes ran up and down the opposing team, the only thought in Isley's mind was who he had been told to remove from the game.

"And starting in goal is Arrof."

The gangly redhead stepped forward, and struck a scarecrow posture to the delight of the crowd. Isley grinned along with the billions in the galaxy watching the game. It was a standing joke. Put Arrof in regular gravity and the man was a hazard to himself. He could barely walk across the room. But in zero g in an Octagla goal he was a wonder. Good thing Roban had him baffled or they'd be in trouble this set of games.

*****

Chapter 6

Cinnit jerked his head sideways with a disgusting look on his face and relaxed his posture. Daron took a fast sideways look, sighed, and relaxed too. Bourara had to be the pickiest referee in the league. Bralin and Roban were not shoving each other that hard, and were not all that badly out of position. But Bourara was separating them and making them reposition themselves. Daron cursed every centimeter of the man's lanky black frame, then turned his attention to Cinnit.

"So where did you go planetside?" Daron asked.

"Middle-class suburbia, temperate zone. I think I've got relatives all over the galaxy. What about you?"

"I stayed here with Hidi."

Cinnit shook his head in disapproval. Space sickness was the chronic risk for every Octagla player with so much of their time weightless. In the long-term it meant muscle tissue shifts and atrophication, and bone density loss, in the short term electrolytic and metabolic imbalance.

"You're pushing your luck."

"She had to be on the space station for interviews, and she's leaving after the game. I'll make the time up."

How many times had he heard that from various players, Cinnit wondered. But he kept his mouth shut. Daron was as pro as they came, and Bourara was coming back. Maybe they could finally get this game underway!

Their sticks slid along each other at light-speed, but Daron was the one who netted the ball. He snapped a fast pass to Ranga, who was positioned on the wall, and Ranga and Roban began working up the court. Shit, wasn't Bralin even going to let Roban breathe? This wasn't going to work. Daron swore under his breath.

Roban agreed. He murmured a play change on their intercom. Mercan cut diagonally across the court, full jets. Ferdik tried to compensate, to shift his position to block Mercan, not Roban or Ranga, but the angles were off. Ranga made the pass as Mercan twisted past Ferdik easily. In that twisting motion Mercan placed a shot exactly twenty centimeters to the left of Aroff's knee. Aroff almost got a piece of it, but almost doesn't count.

Tamara 1, Pendrae 0, 39 seconds into the game.

***

"Okay Mikey," Big Luis called. "Time to earn your keep!" Cinnit and Jaik were working up center court. "Don't worry about Jaik, he can't score in or out of court lately."

That had been good luck, running into Ferdik planetside at that tropical ocean resort. They'd swum and sunned and drunk beer and gossiped. The news that Jaik's new woman had walked on him was just what he needed to bait Jaik into losing his temper.

"But watch Cinnit... Shit Maras!... Don't kill the little guy... Okay Mikey, I've got the ball and..."

Big Luis gave Koji who was after that same ball a two-armed shove that was just marginally short of a cross-check. It would have been a cross-check, but that would have risked the ball coming out of the pocket in his net. Koji disposed of until he was breathing again, Big Luis put all his strength into a long pass to Rundell.

Cinnit, fast and anticipating that, intercepted and pressed the play back into the Tamara end, then close to the Tamara net again. He deked, watched Mikey start to move and took a shot. Mikey got a piece of it, but the ball went loose again careening off the roof. Daron caught the bounce, and started moving up court.

"Nice save, Mikey!" Big Luis yelled. "Next time hold the damn thing!!"

Mikey gave a panicky look at Tarell on the bench and got a grin and a thumbs-up. Big Luis was on Tarell like that all the time, so maybe it was okay Mikey thought, then focused on Daron moving up court.

***

Isley strained to see what was going on, but it was useless. Big Luis had hold of Mercan to keep him out of the fight, and Ferdik had hold of Koji for the same reason. That meant two very large objects were blocking his view. He knew Jaik had taken a swing at Rundell, and no doubt Rundell had taken one back... Hell! Maras was close enough now to be part of the action. Isley wished he had any confidence at all that Maras understood things. In the dressing room he'd explained to the whole team about the strategy to take Jaik out without costing themselves penalties, but the explanation had really been for Maras's sake. Had he understood?

"Hey!" Maras shoved Bourara's hand off his arm and moved forward to grab Rundell, not Jaik, by his shoulders. "Can it!" Coach Isley said there weren't supposed to be penalties. Least not big penalties. But Rundell were real pissed. Mercan too. They was not remembering.

Ferdik took the opportunity to let go of Koji, who was calming down, and to grab Jaik. The two defensemen forcibly separated the fighters.

Damn! Isley watched as Jaik used a gloved finger to artistically smear the blood already spreading fast across the sweat slick on his face. What was Rundell doing? For that matter, why was Rundell, not Big Luis, in the fight? He'd been listening to Big Luis's mouth tonight, and it was focusing increasingly on Jaik's sex life.

Long used to artistry, Bourara always made his own decision. He ran a practiced finger down Jaik's cut. Then he motioned to the Pendrae United bench and the exit to the dressing room.

Isley grimaced. The dressing room, not the penalty box. Jaik needed stitches then, Isley decided with resignation. Well, it looked like Larr was back on first string for the night. He was about to turn and tell Larr so, when he saw Bourara motion for Rundell to unseal the right wrist of his suit and pull the sleeve up. Rundell tried, but he couldn't do it. Carefully Bourara steadied the arm and eased the sleeve up a fraction. Again he nodded not to the penalty box, but the bench.

Isley turned to Larr. "You see what happened? I was looking at Mikey." They were up three goals but the play was getting intense and Mikey was showing all the signs of nerves.

"Jaik slashed him," Larr said matter-of-factly. "If they'd been tethered to the wall, Rundell would be out for the season. As it is..." Larr let the sentence trail off as Rundell approached the bench, escorted by Maras, who seemed to have shifted roles to a worried honor guard.

"How bad?" Isley demanded.

"I don't know." Rundell's face was white with pain. "For sure he hit a nerve or crushed a tendon." He looked apologetically at his coach. "I'm sorry. The pain made me crazy."

Isley waved that aside. "Go get scanned."

Rundell nodded, then stopped as the announcer's voice came over the PA system. "Jaik – game suspension. Rundell, five minutes."

In spite of his pain, a smile spread across Rundell's face. "We'll freeze and bandage the fucking arm and I'll be back."

*****

Chapter 7

Rundell waited with stoic indifference, or at least what he hoped looked like stoic indifference, as Doc checked basic responses in his hand and arm before applying a neuroblock.

"Okay." Doc stopped manipulating and poking and scanning. "You hanging in or going to throw up?"

He didn't need that suggestion at all. There was only partial pseudo-gravity in the dressing room, just enough that their gear didn't float. "Just use the neuroblock!" Rundell felt the relief wash through him as the worst of the pain subsided. "So how is it?"

"Jaik lucked out – compressed a nerve. Now, let's do a basic check for fractures."

He could be patient now. Rundell watched the game on the monitor. Hell. Mikey just let in a bad goal and Isley was pulling him. He hoped the kid would last at least another five minutes. He needed the confidence.

"Mmm." Doc turned his compad so Rundell could see what he was talking about. "You've got a hairline fracture at the end of this arm bone." The software had highlighted the fracture in red. "I'd worry if you were still growing, but as it is, given time it will heal."

"Can I still play?"

Doc was used to that being the first question and ignored it. "I'm more worried about the nerve than the bone. I want a specialist planetside to see it."

"Yeah, yeah. Can I play now, or will I do more damage?"

"It's going to hurt like hell. The neuroblock won't hold that level of pain down for long. That could put your passes off."

Damn that Jaik! He was dead meat next game. Then Rundell thought of his wife pregnant with their first daughter back on Tamara. She wasn't carrying well and in the last few weeks she'd taken to worrying about him as a distraction from worrying about the baby. Maybe settling the score with Jaik would have to wait until next season.

"Then freeze the damn thing solid and bandage me up. I'm playing."

***

There were two minutes left in the game. The score was Tamara 14, Pendrae 5. Isley signaled a timeout.

"Okay Mikey, you're closing. See if you can hold them at five."

That was not a given. The play had become increasingly intense as Pendrae United tried to not totally disgrace themselves to the home fans. Tarell had held them at five for the last eight minutes. If Mikey could continue to hold them, not scoring in the last ten minutes would have them totally disgraced.

Anxiously Mikey nodded. Tarell reached the box as he moved out of it.

"You can do it kid – keep them at five!" He gave Mikey a reassuring clout.

Cinnit took the face-off, passing to Sabian.

Sabian took the play up the court, staying right almost on the wall, hoping neither Maras or Big Luis would notice Koji crossing from center court into right. Tamara was getting slack – even Big Luis' commentary was losing its bite. He was right. Maras was there to check him, but Big Luis was out of position. Sabian snapped a fast pass to Koji who jetted around Big Luis easily.

It was a breakaway, Mikey against the second top scorer on Pendrae United at the very end of a game. Needing desperately to not let in a goal. Mikey had known someday he would be in this situation, and that it would not be at all like playing at a lower level. He had imagined it in practices. He had imagined it watching replays of games. He'd known he would be so terrified he'd blow it.

That sensation of terror he'd rehearsed so well didn't happen. Somehow, a miraculous somehow, it was the way Tarell had said it would be. His universe calmed, expanded out, contracted to a single focus – Koji's eyes. The Octagla court was still there. The other players were there. He was aware of the moves Koji was making, of the ball. But his entire focus was Koji's eyes.

Koji faked a shot to upper left. Mikey didn't even try to cover it. Koji's eyes said it was a fake. Koji moved closer to Big Luis, not close enough to get hit, but close enough to hope for some screening.

That tight focus expanded out. Koji's eyes said he meant it this time. The shot came hard and fast. Too fast to think. Reflexes took over. The hours and hours in the court turned into instinct. The shot was to his weak side, but Mikey managed to twist to get it, to make the save dead center of the net of his stick so it went deep, and it only took a twist of his wrist to trap the ball.

"Great save, Mikey!" Big Luis yelled as he jetted over to give Mikey a hug.

Maras joined to thump him in friendship, and Mercan and Rundell piled in. Mikey was sure his grin would split his face.

***

Daron took the face-off this time, passing to Rundell. Rundell started working up court, but the pain was too much. He passed off to Mercan.

On the other side of the court Roban decided he'd had it with Bralin. Bralin had given him bruised ribs in the first quarter and not given him room to breathe since. Roban looked straight into the other man's hard blue eyes and delivered a vicious butt end that he'd learned from Mai. The referees might pick it up re-watching the game, but not now. Not the way Mai had taught him. She had learned a lot from her brother Torin, and invented a few dirty moves of her own playing in the planetary pro women's league.

Roban used the surprise and pain that slowed Bralin down to break free. The moment he was clear, Mercan passed. That left Jonagar. The look in his hard eyes said Roban would not be playing the next game, maybe never again. But Jonagar had to be able to hit him first. Roban blessed those simulations of Uncle Barranb's as he shifted to full jets, then started a roll that took him toward Jonagar's feet. He snapped a shot off, dodged a kick, and got just enough contact that by twisting he sent Jonagar spiraling out of control, partially screening him.

Aroff didn't have a chance with the angle Roban shot from and with Jonagar blocking his view. The goal light went on.

Tamara 15, Pendrae 5

***

Cinnit took the face-off with seven seconds left. He started working up, but a hard clean check from Mercan sent his pass to Koji wild. The buzzer sounded as the ball careened off the walls.

Final score Tamara 15, Pendrae 5.

"We party!!" Big Luis shouted.

Billions of Tamara fans around the galaxy repeated in a roar broadcast in the arena, "We party!!"

Coach Isley swore under his breath in seven dialects. This was not the night to party.

*****

Chapter 8

It had all the signs of being a very, very pleasant day, if you could call an arbitrary twenty-four hour cycle on the Pendrae space station a day. At any rate, to Daron it was the interval following a very pleasant sleep cycle, so it was day. He opened his eyes, smiling at the woman he had been amusing himself with since Hidi was gone. For the first time in years Daron had slept in, and he rather thought it was the current company.

Krysta was attractive, in a quiet, non-flashy sort of way. She had soft, mid-length light brown hair, a grave face, and a medium build. For the life of him Daron couldn't remember how he'd connected with her at Big Luis' party, but it didn't really matter. He had. They had left the party to have supper, gone on to a lounge, and then to his portel. She had said she worked on the space station, but that today was her day off. So there had been no time pressure. They had talked, had something more to eat, and eventually found themselves in bed. She had been good there too, in a quiet, shy sort of way that was a piquant contrast to Hidi.

Now she was curled up in an armchair quietly reading. He didn't know when he'd seen anyone reading since he left home. His sister Elvira had always had a book called up. He found he liked the sight of her there.

"Good morning." His smile was amused now. She was so lost in the book she didn't know he was awake.

Looking up from her book Krysta said, "Oh, you're awake. I didn't know if I should leave before you woke or not. I suppose I should go now and get some things done." She put her compad in her purse.

"There's no need to leave. You said it's your day off. So why don't we spend it together?" Galaxy, why had he done that, not gently eased her out as he'd planned to do?

Krysta looked at him for a moment, trying to decide if that was Daron's way of being polite, or if he meant it.

"I mean it," he said sitting up. "Let's start with breakfast together, and see how it goes from there." He gave her a seductive smile and moved to stand beside her, stroking her hair. Their night had been very pleasant.

"Breakfast would be nice, but I really do have a few things to do. Maybe I could come back later?"

Somehow Daron didn't like that idea, her being the one suggesting leaving. It raised the possibility she might not come back. "Can I tag along?"

***

'Some things to do' turned out to be some very boring shopping for the sorts of domestic items he never thought of living in portels. Daron helped Krysta choose six juice glasses, a cutting board, three hand towels, and six face cloths. For the amount of choice there was on the space station, it shouldn't have taken long, but they had fun just looking at stuff she didn't need. Or rather, Daron suspected, since he was having fun she encouraged him.

Anyways, they spent several hours in the small shopping arcade, and now they were in a little café having a beverage – Daron didn't know what it was – and pastry. Space stations tended to reflect the culture of their planets, and this was no exception. Pendrae was urban and highly industrialized, and the space station lacked the pretty micro-parks, water gardens, and sculptures the Tamaran ones had. It tended to a functional city core, syncrete and metal architecture with a mood somewhere between an apartment block complex and a cruise ship. However the café owner had done her best make her terrace feel like it was open-air planetside. The tables all had gay umbrellas and a projector provided dappled sunlight. There was a cluster of pink and blue blooming plants around a small fountain in the corner moving in the breeze from the air vent beside them. From their table that bordered on the walkway Daron and Krysta were watching the shoppers.

"Isn't that Superstud?" A female voice asked.

"Shh. He'll hear you. They're sitting right near the walkway," another female voice said.

"I don't care. He's absolutely divine," the first voice said. "Let's go in and have a drink."

Daron made an apologetic face at Krysta. "Sorry. It's part of the territory. If they're a nuisance we can leave, or call security."

Krysta gave him a nervous smile. This was too much of a reminder of who she was with, and who she had spent the night with. If Daron had only the haziest memories of how that had happened, Krysta's were perfectly clear. It had all started when she came home after work to find her brother getting ready to leave for Big Luis' party. A waiter at a restaurant, he was a friend of Big Luis. As she had walked in the door he'd announced that she was going too since he was tired of the way she'd just been moping around since she'd split up with her boyfriend. Krysta hadn't argued. In the first place, it was totally useless to argue with her brother. He simply didn't listen. In the second place, he was right, she had been moping around. Besides, since Krysta had been 'temporarily' living in his sitting room for six weeks now and was likely to be there for a few more months, what position was she in to argue?

She hadn't meant to be in his apartment. Usually, in a case like hers where she and Tommi split up, one or the other would move into a single in the transient section. But right now it was clogged with planetside crews repairing some doors in the shuttle bays, plus installation crews for a new mirror factory. Since she was the one with family to move in on, she'd ended up in her brother's sitting room. The woman running housing was sympathetic, but not optimistic. It could be months. So Krysta was trying hard not to antagonize her brother.

Krysta had simply said, 'Sure, is there time to change?' Then she'd gotten out of the coverall she wore on her shift doing air filtration maintenance, had a fast shower, and pulled on the first dress her hand touched.

She hadn't enjoyed the party though. It was too crowded and too noisy for her taste. She had been introduced to Big Luis and a couple other players, chatted a bit, and drifted off in the general direction of the door, hoping to make an unnoticed escape. She hadn't though. Just as Krysta was sure she'd made it, and was stepping out, a voice behind her said, 'Escaping this crowd? Can I come too?'

Mortified, she had turned to find Daron standing there. He wasn't one of the men she'd been introduced to, but of course she knew who he was, and his reputation. It must have shown, because he had said, 'This isn't a pickup. It's just that for once Big Luis' party is too noisy for me. You look local – just tell me where, other than a portel, I can eat and we'll go our own ways.'

He had looked like he meant it, and Krysta had believed him. After all, she was wearing a very unflattering dress, and hadn't had time to put on any makeup other than lipstick. The dress was two years old and out of style, but it hadn't looked good on her new either. She had bought it because it was a shade of burnt orange that she liked, and she'd been meaning to alter the terrible neckline ever since. And even when she looked her best, she wasn't exactly glamorous like the girls she saw Superstud with.

Krysta had said she was headed to get something to eat at a little pasta place, that she hadn't had time after work, and Daron could tag along. He was under no obligation to eat with her but the food was decent and the café quiet. By the time they got to the little café in the working section though, they'd been deep in conversation. Daron had never seen the residential part of a space station, and had had a million questions about how you actually lived on one. So they'd eaten together, and talked. Then had come what Krysta recognized as a very oblique, but practiced seduction. She'd gone along with it because by then she had decided she liked Daron, despite, not because of his Superstud reputation.

Today had been fun too, although she still didn't have the slightest idea what she would say to her brother. Daron was good company, and she'd mostly managed to forget who he was. Now though he was looking over her shoulder as the group of girls entered the café, giving them what could only be called a once over. Superstud. And she was just plain Krysta from the air filtration plant. Suddenly she felt very self-conscious and inadequate in her ugly orange dress. Why was he wasting time with her anyways?

Daron caught her expression. "Sorry Krysta. I've acquired a few bad habits." Now, why the hell was he apologizing? What was wrong with a guy liking to look at girls, and the blonde was a real looker.

"It's all right." It wasn't though. It was reality time, time to go home and clean the apartment. "I really should go though."

She started to rise, but Daron's hand stopped her. "No, please. You said you weren't working today." The blonde was flirting now. What a mane of hair. It rivaled Hidi's.

"Not at the plant, but I've got an apartment to clean unless I want to spend the next week living in a mess."

"Can't you at least have lunch with me?" He ignored the blonde and stroked Krysta's arm. "I was really hoping we could –" The look he got was not encouraging. "Well, never mind. But I would like company for lunch and," he gave her an engaging smile, "I could help you with your housework later to make up for it."

Now, why the hell had he said that? Daron detested housework and when he had lived at home he'd paid his sister to do his chores for him. Most of her adolescent wardrobe had been bought from blackmail to keep her mouth shut.

Krysta flushed. That would take some living down if her brother came home and found Superstud there.

She was absolutely adorable when she looked like that, Daron decided. No pretense, no coyness. "No sale, I take it? Then please don't run away just yet. Let the dust bunnies hide under the bed for another half hour while we finish our drinks okay?"

Krysta shook her head, and smiled. "Daron, you're impossible! And if I say yes, will you be after me to go to dinner later?"

That was an agreement. "Definitely," he said with a grin, feeling almost as good as if he'd scored a goal in a key game.

*****

Chapter 9

"Daron," Krysta was more amused now than exasperated, "why don't you just go say hello to those girls?"

Daron was offended. "I wasn't even looking at them. I just nodded to Ranga. He went into that shop back there. What is it, anyways?" Daron couldn't see the name on the storefront at the angle he was sitting at. A potted tree was in the way.

Krysta turned to look. Ranga wasn't likely to have gone into the women's hairstylist or the food store. "The third one? It's fancy menswear." While turning back, she finally let herself take a look at the girls. To her relief they were not from the space station. They were identifiably rich, about twenty years old. There was an incredibly glamorous blonde, a brunette with improbable red streaks in her hair, and another brunette sitting with her back to them. They were all dressed in the latest fashion, and had probably talked one of their parents into letting them use the space yacht to come up to the space station just for something to do. Now they were what she thought of as Daron's type. The recurrent question came back. What was he doing with her?

The blonde noticed Krysta looking at them, and gave her a hostile glare. Krysta dropped her eyes and turned back, suddenly finding the pattern on the tablecloth fascinating. Daron had been watching the proceedings carefully. Hidi would have just stared down the competition. Now he slipped a reassuring hand over Krysta's.

"You know you're the one I want to be with."

"You've said so rather persistently." Krysta almost smiled. "The question is why."

Daron did not smile back. He released her hand and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Yes. Good question. I'm not usually like this, and," he added at the look on Krysta's face, "that is not another one of my lines. I mean it. It isn't the fact that you keep trying to dump me either. My ego is pretty robust. When that happens I normally just shrug, say it's a big galaxy, and move on to someone who won't reject me. Like that blonde."

"That's not fair!" Krysta defended herself. "You know I like you."

"Right. You just prefer domestic labor." An ugly thought crossed Daron's mind. "Or was last night a temporary diversion while someone was away, and you've got to get back before he gets home?" That didn't seem like Krysta, but he hardly knew her.

Krysta shook her head. "I was living with someone, but we split up six weeks ago. I'm staying with my brother right now. There's a housing crunch," she added in explanation.

Relief made Daron smile. "And he's bigger than Big Luis, mean, and has very strict views on the family honor?" he teased.

Krysta actually laughed. "No. He's smaller than I am, a waiter, and usually open-minded. We're just starting to get on each other's nerves, that's all. I don't want to cross him when he's doing me a favor."

"So you're wasting your day off playing housemaid. Do you have any holidays due?"

"A few, but –"

Daron was holding her hand again, mostly so she didn't bolt and run on this idea. "So why don't you give both your brother and me a break? Take those holidays and come stay with me until the team leaves in four days. There has to be a cleaning agency up here doing the portels. I'll arrange for them to keep your brother happy." He'd fly someone up if the portel cleaning service refused to do domestic units.

"But Daron –"

"There aren't any buts," Daron said firmly, delighted with his idea.

"Not even from your coach?" Krysta was wide-eyed.

Now, that was a but. He'd never tried a stunt like this, moving a woman into his room for days, not even Hidi. It wouldn't be a case of 'fine me'. He'd get benched. Daron shrugged. "Isley is my problem. As long as I show up for the practices and games sober and focused, it will be all right. Please?" He stroked her hand.

"Why Daron?"

"I don't know." There was a trace of irritation in his voice. "All of a sudden I don't make sense. But," his voice was gentle and coaxing again, "I think that means there's something we should explore, don't you?"

Daron couldn't possibly be saying he was falling in love with her. If she was starting to get those kind of thoughts, she needed her head examined Krysta told herself. But the idea was attractive. She liked Daron, much more than was wise at all. And she did have vacation. She had intended to go visit an aunt planetside for some normal gravity time, but that could wait. She'd just had a medical and was healthy with no signs of space sickness. Recently her work had been split between the filtration unit itself and maintenance in the peripheral residential areas with nearly full rotational g.

"Let me think." To buy some time, she looked away from Daron, out to the people walking past. "What's he doing here!"

The ex-lover. Terrific! Daron swiveled around to get a good look at the competition. There was only one likely candidate. Slightly above average height, well-built, with brown hair two shades lighter than Daron's own and worn below shoulder length. A V-neck top stylishly cut, and low enough to show a mat of chest hair on a well muscled chest. Heavy gold medallion on an equally heavy chain. A handsome, arrogant, cruel face that Daron would know anywhere. Cobyn Gadd. For a moment their eyes met in total hostility, then with what could only be called a dismissive sneer Cobyn turned away.

Daron looked after him for a moment, trying to compose himself. Krysta couldn't be mixed up with a piece of slime like Cobyn Gadd could she? But what did he know about her after all, except that he was falling in love with her? That recognition shocked him out of the downslide, and he remembered their night. No. She was not mixed up with Cobyn. She had been open and trusting. Cobyn's women tended to be off men permanently when they split.

All the same, Daron returned his focus to Krysta with heightened senses, watching for any nuances of expression as he asked, "You know that guy?"

Still watching Cobyn, not Daron, Krysta shook her head. "No. A friend of mine who's a security guard pointed him out." She returned her gaze to Daron and dropped her voice confidentially. "I shouldn't say this, since she hasn't been able to prove a thing, but she thinks he's a high-class drug trafficker. He's really been after her though, threatening to charge her with harassment and invasion of privacy. She could lose her job."

Relief made Daron lightheaded. "Well, tell her to stick with it. She's right you know." He'd love to see Cobyn nailed.

It was Krysta's turn to stare. "How do you know?" She was feeling a mix of sick and concern for Daron. "I mean you don't..." It trailed off.

Daron was really offended. "Krysta. Do you think I'm stupid enough to ruin myself with drugs?"

"Then," she was all blushing confusion, "how do you know about –" She waved in the direction the man had gone.

Daron did not intend to lie, but for sure he was not telling her the truth. Cobyn Gadd was one of the higher placed members of Zloenni's drug network. He would deliver to select high-priced clients for her, but he preferred to work as an enforcer because he was a sadistic son-of-a-bitch. His dad would never use a man like him for that reason; sadists were bad news as enforcers.

His dad had made sure both he and Elvira knew what Cobyn looked like. They had spent hours picking him out from holograms of similar men years ago because their dad had figured they'd live longer that way. It was essential information since as well as being a prosperous legitimate shipping agency, Soimvell Shipping moved all of Ghen Kulgalu's drugs. Elvira was the company expediter for shipping the drugs, Daron heir apparent. Daron's dad also ran the enforcers Ghen used, and worked as one himself. To him it was simply part of the business.

"The circles I move in, you hear things."

Krysta nodded, accepting a side of celebrity life that rightly or wrongly got a lot of publicity. She half turned to look again, but Daron stopped the motion. Krysta asked, "Where'd he go, can you see?"

"Into the men's wear shop." Daron's voice was grim. Ranga hadn't come out. That was all he needed, Ranga having a run-in with Cobyn, and that's what it would be with Ranga's temper. Unless, and the second really ugly thought of the day surfaced, Cobyn was meeting Ranga. In the 'after game meet the fans thing' last night, he'd seen Zloenni walk up to Ranga and congratulate him on the game.

At least, that's what Daron had assumed. It was the sort of mind game Zloenni loved. She'd played it with him when he started out – a public hello, a lot of innuendos to see if she could throw him, touching his arm, stroking his chest or back. She must have found it boring though, because she'd dropped it after a few months and left him alone until the Superstud nickname surfaced. Then after a game with a lot of the bored rich and the gossip columnists standing around Zloenni had come up all purry and asked him if he wanted to prove his new nickname.

When he'd said no thanks, she'd laughed at him and called him a coward. Damned right too, Daron thought. There was no way he was going near that woman. He supposed she could be trying that stunt with Ranga, but he couldn't see Cobyn fitting in as persuasion. Setting up a liaison neither wanted a public record of? Zloenni was Ranga's dad's age plus or minus two years. Daron couldn't remember which was older. But that didn't matter. She was still a very attractive reddish brunette. He didn't think Ranga would sucker, but if she played on that Kulgalu pride, telling him he was a coward, he might.

*****

Chapter 10

Daron's whole attention was on the door to the menswear shop.

"Should we call my friend?" Krysta asked.

"No!" Daron's voice was sharp. If both Ranga and Cobyn were in the store for totally innocent reasons, like buying new underwear, and Cobyn was headed for a delivery, he'd make damned sure the drugs were found on Ranga.

"But –"

"I mean it Krysta. It's the kind of trouble you want to stay right out of."

"But if you told my friend –"

"No Krysta. If your friend asks me anything, I don't know a thing."

Krysta was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly, "You're afraid of him."

"Cobyn Gadd? You're damned right. Anyone with any sense is afraid of him. And Krysta, if you ever see him again, don't do what you did."

"Do what?"

"Watch him. If he notices, he'll either assume you're a narc, or that you're interested in him. Either way, you're asking to end up in emergency too scared to press charges."

Her eyes were very wide now. "Daron, you're scaring me."

"Just making sure you believe me that Cobyn is bad news. Now, forget that slime and tell me what cleaning agency to hire."

"Daron, you're impossible!" But she was smiling.

***

Daron looked over Krysta's shoulder with a friendly smile and wave.

"What now?" Krysta teased. Now that she'd made her decision she was relaxed.

"Ranga just came out of that shop and waved at me. I think he wants to join us, but he's afraid he's interrupting. Can I go get him and introduce you?" It was a blatant lie. Daron had been monitoring the door, and waved the moment Ranga stepped out. Now Ranga was standing there, indecisive.

"If you'd like." Krysta had decided the easiest way to keep Daron happy was to agree unless something really mattered to her, and to expect a lot of plan changes. He certainly was mercurial. Like that creepy man. Daron had seemed all upset, and now he'd totally forgotten the incident. Well, she would too. She'd tell her friend to be really careful in a few days when the team left for Ennup 10, but she wouldn't mention Daron. He seemed really terrified of that man, which was strange since he was very brave in an Octagla court. Another contradiction.

Daron was rising before Ranga could decide to take off. He gave Krysta a teasing smile. "How about I see if I can find him a date with those girls – a foursome for dinner?"

Krysta had a firm stand on that. "I'm not eating with that blonde!"

Daron's grin broadened. So she could stick up for herself after all. "You won't. She'll turn him down."

Since he was walking, he didn't hear Krysta's answer to that bit of arrogance, which was just as well.

***

"Ranga, you going to come meet Krysta?" Daron had him by the elbow, steering him out of the line of sight of the shop window. As soon as he had, he dropped his voice. "Cobyn Gadd walked into the shop a few minutes after you did. Did you see him?"

"No. We must have both been in change rooms." That was true as far as it went. Ranga tried very hard not to think of the extra factory sealed packages of men's briefs that had been added to the ones in the bag he left in the aisle outside the change room and that contained a lot more than underwear.

Daron knew that look. He'd seen it before on Ghen's face, not Ranga's. Ranga wasn't lying, but he sure as hell was editing the truth. That had to mean a drop – of drugs or a message? All of a sudden his worries about Ranga in Zloenni's bed seemed trivial. Please, please may she not have him hooked on anything. Not Ranga. Had he seen any evidence in Ranga's play? No, but he hadn't been looking. The spot checks the league ran now and again hadn't found anything, but so what? First they had to know what to test for. From now on he was watching him like a hawk, on and off the court.

"Well, that was a bit of luck. Let's get out of here before there's a scene."

Ranga allowed himself to be led away. "Did he see you in the café?" It was a natural question.

"Oh yeah. We glared at each other, that's all. I just want to be out of 'bumping into' range. Come on!" He was hurrying Ranga now, sensing Cobyn's eyes, expecting him to step out of the door at any moment. "Interested in a foursome for dinner?" It was time for a topic change.

"A what?" Ranga's mind was on Cobyn Gadd.

"A foursome. I've got a girl that will keep me happy for our stay." And maybe the rest of my life. "But there's another table-full who have been flirting. How about we pick one up for you?"

Did Daron ever forget about women, even in the Octagla court? Well, at least he was treating Cobyn coming into the shop as coincidence. "Sure," Ranga said agreeably. "Where are they?"

Too agreeable, Daron thought. Ranga was usually the 'admire from a distance' type. Get him too close to girls he didn't know and he got all shy and tongue-tied. "That table there – third down, two in." Daron pointed, then as the blonde was watching, turned it into a smile and a wave. The way she had that blonde hair fluffed out framing her face was really something. It must be a new style. He'd have to tell Hidi about it. She'd look great wearing it.

To Daron there was nothing incongruous about thinking about Hidi and Krysta in almost the same moment. Daron was no more monogamous than his father, and had no intentions of ever being so. His parents had been married thirty years now, and since he'd been old enough to notice such things, his father had had a series of mistresses, most as glamorous as Hidi.

"And what did you say the name of the girl you're with is?" This time it was Ranga who was leading Daron towards the restaurant. It would appeal to Cobyn to just 'run into' them, and say something either to make him squirm, or to make Daron blazing mad. Ranga didn't like Cobyn, and he didn't see why Zloenni did. Unlike Daron, he was not prepared to admit the truth – that he was terrified of the man.

"Krysta. You might have seen her at Big Luis' party last night." Daron tried to remember if he had seen Ranga there.

But Ranga was shaking his head. "I skipped the party – I got busy on my computer."

Well, that was normal anyways. Ranga spent more time computing than anyone he knew except Roban. Unless this time it was a blatant lie and he was with Zloenni. "You didn't miss much. It got out of hand. I left early – that's how I met Krysta. She was skipping out too."

They were picking their way through the tables, adjusting their course to pass the table with the girls. As they reached the table, Daron slowed his pace.

"Hello there." He smiled at the blonde.

"Superstud. I've always wanted to meet you."

It was a predatory purr.

Daron's smile broadened. "Well, your timing is off. I have a woman for this stay-over." He had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen and a temporary frown crease the lovely brow. This one was used to setting the pace and having her own way. She didn't like his bluntness much either, which was why he'd said what he'd said. For some reason he wanted to upset her.

Then her smile was back in place.

"Maybe I'll see you next time."

"Maybe." Daron was noncommittal and didn't ask her name or address. He liked to do at least a bit of chasing. He shifted his focus to the older brunette, and found attractive, very amused eyes smiling at him. "You all know Ranga. We were going out to dinner in a bit, and we wondered if one of you would like to make it a foursome." The brunette was a bit old for Ranga, but she looked like a nice woman, pleasant, and intelligent.

The brunette and blonde looked at each other, and there was a slight shaking of heads. "I'm terribly sorry, Daron, Ranga," the brunette looked past Daron to smile politely at the younger man, "but we aren't on the station for too much longer, and we have a friend to visit."

"I'd love to! Could I come?"

It was the third girl, and the other two looked at her like they were astounded she had a voice. Daron would guess she was the kid sister of the brunette and daddy had said that unless she came too they couldn't borrow the space yacht. She looked maybe seventeen, a real beanpole with strong, not striking features. The voice was as lovely as her sister's though, better in fact, and Daron wondered if she sang.

With all eyes suddenly on her, the girl flushed. Why had she said something stupid like that? She adored Ranga. She watched all his games. And she didn't want to go visit her sister's friend. They'd all just make her wish she wasn't there. But why had she thought Daron or Ranga would even talk to her, much less ever want to be with her? Maybe the floor would open up and swallow her if she prayed hard enough. Maybe, more realistically, she should go powder her nose. "I ... I'm sorry ... excuse me ..." The girl started to grope for her bag.

Ranga intervened, stooping over and beating her to the handbag. He knew exactly how she felt, with that blonde bitch staring at her like she was an insect specimen. You wanted to run, to be invisible. How often had that happen to him when people heard his last name, Kulgalu.

He held out the handbag. "I'm sorry. I don't know your name."

"Dawn." If she'd been embarrassed before, now she was mortified. Blushing scarlet, unbecoming scarlet, Dawn took the bag with fingers that were even more awkward than normal because they shook.

"Dawn, I'd really like it if you'd have lunch with me." Ranga gave her a reassuring smile.

Dawn studied Ranga's face for the trick, the setup that would have them all laughing at her, but she couldn't see it. She couldn't find her voice either.

"Let me help you with your chair, and you can tell me what you like to eat. Not that there's all that much choice up here." The restaurants tended to try to find food that appealed to travelers from any part of the galaxy, so it was not adventurous.

Because she couldn't think of anything else to do, Dawn rose, then stood there looking uncertainly at Ranga.

"Come along," he said gently, wanting to ease her away from the other girls. "Let's start with basics. Vegetarian, or meat?"

She was apparently glued to the floor. Ranga knew that Daron, more at ease with awkward situations, would have taken her elbow and whispered something amusing and reassuring. Ranga however was starting to feel awkward himself, about fourteen or fifteen on a first date that wasn't going well. He held out a hand.

"Please?" He should never have agreed to Daron's bright idea, but he wanted Daron's mind off Cobyn Gadd.

Dawn recognized a kindred spirit and slipped her hand into Ranga's. His felt clammy and nervous like hers always did, not at all what she expected from someone famous, and on holovision like Ranga.

As they stepped away from the table, the blonde said, "Well, I never!" She did not look pleased. Obviously the younger girl was getting above herself in the blonde's estimation.

The brunette however looked worried. "I don't think this is a good idea." She started to rise.

Daron stopped her with a gesture. "Your kid sister?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, watching the pair working their way between tables towards Krysta.

"It's all right. Ranga's totally harmless. He'll buy her a good meal, then see her back to your yacht. She's safe with him."

Rather to her surprise, the brunette found herself believing Superstud.

"Unlike you," the blonde volunteered. The voice was still purry, but not friendly.

The claws were out, were they? Daron gave her one of his best smiles. "Oh, she'd be safe with me too. I prefer women, not girls. Attractive women."

The smile and the tone were seductive, but the blonde knew a put down when she heard it. She looked furious.

Before she could recover, Daron leaned over and whispered the number the brunette could reach him at if she got nervous again about her sister, and left.

*****

Chapter 11

"Krysta, this is Ranga and Donna."

"Dawn," Ranga corrected, helping Dawn into her seat. "Pleased to meet you, Krysta."

She was definitely not Daron's type, and despite the fact they had run into each other at Big Luis' party Ranga wondered how they had ended up together.

"Hello." Krysta gave Ranga a shy smile, and Dawn a warmer one. She had really thought Daron was making a big mistake trying to pick up a girl for Ranga. But she had only seen Dawn's back. Now that she could see her, she looked like a cute girl, and Ranga's age. The others were too old for him and a couple of bitches too. At least she assumed they were too old for him. Ranga was at an age where people differed a lot. Watching him play, and during interviews on holovision, he would seem very tough and self-reliant, and then suddenly very very young.

As Ranga sat down Daron asked, "So what did you find worth buying?" It was a natural question, and he really wanted to know if there had been a drop. The drugs wouldn't necessarily be in the bag if there had been, but at least he could snoop about it.

"This sweater." Ranga fished in the bag and brought out an elaborately knit pullover in a shade of mossy green that he liked.

"Nice," Daron said approvingly as he fingered the fabric. He waited until Ranga was politely showing the sweater to Dawn. Then he bent over and flipped open the bag.

"Anything else good in here?"

There were a lot of packages of underwear. He raised an eyebrow at Ranga.

"It's the brand Cinnit said to try. I saw them so I thought I'd stock up."

Maybe. Maybe not. Daron reached down and fished out a bag at random squeezing a couple of others in the process. They all felt like just cloth, not that he was being careful enough to be certain.

"Daron!" Ranga was cross.

Daron grinned at the girls as he held the package of briefs up. "The Octagla player's eternal quest. Underwear that won't bind whatever contortion you're doing." They all wore weightless unitards for blood pressure regulation and to wick sweat and changed them between periods, but most players preferred briefs under them. He checked out the package under the excuse of reading the fine print. "Maybe I should go get some myself."

"Do." Ranga was frigid.

Daron relaxed. That was the totally normal response from Ranga, mortification by underwear being discussed at the table. If something was wrong he would be trying to act relaxed and cool.

"Really Daron, you're embarrassing Ranga." Krysta gave Ranga an encouraging smile. "It's a beautiful sweater Ranga. I love the textured section across the shoulder."

She was so sweet. She acted like she really cared about Ranga, and he was a total stranger. Hidi would have joined in the teasing. Daron forgot about drugs and dropped the underwear into the bag, his whole attention on Krysta. How could someone so unprepossessing be so enchanting? What was it? It was something elusive, something that would be too easy to forget when the team left for Ennup 10 after their Pendrae games. He could ask her if he could take a hologram, but she was probably the type who froze in front of a camera. Or he could sneak a picture, but he hated it when the someone did that to him.

"Ranga do you have a sketch pad with you?" Daron asked on an impulse. His sister sketched best with a stylus, but Ranga loved the feel of paper and was always hunting for new types.

"Sure." Ranga was glad of the change of topic.

"Could you sketch Krysta for me?"

"Now?" Ranga asked matter-of-factly.

"Now?" It was a mortified gasp from Krysta. She had never had anyone draw her, and she was sure it was a terrible experience. How could Daron possibly expect her to do it here in a restaurant filled with people?

"Now," Daron said firmly. "Before we spend another night together. I want a picture of you while we're still half strangers, still exploring each other." He slid his foot to rub her ankle.

"Daron, please!" Krysta knew she was blushing. How could he mention their night together in public like that? But there was a little smile on her lips as she looked into his eyes.

Ranga assumed that was the expression Daron wanted, half shy, half in love. He set to work on a fast sketch to capture the expression, working with the drawing pad on his lap. If Daron wanted a more detailed study he could do it later from the sketch.

Daron helped out, keeping on gently teasing, keeping her distracted. Ranga would have loved to try a quick sketch of Daron too, but Daron would kill him. He had honestly thought Daron could never fall in love, but it was written all over his face. That was what Ranga would have drawn if he dared.

At last Krysta was exasperated. "Daron, I told you. No!"

"You're a little late." Daron had been keeping an eye on Ranga. He held out his hand. "Let me see."

"Is that what you wanted?" Ranga handed the sketch over.

Daron looked at the sweet, almost adoring expression on her face. "It's perfect," he said sincerely and handed it to Krysta.

"Do I look like that?" she asked incredulously, embarrassed again.

Ranga felt sorry for her. "Well, that's how you looked to me at the time." It was almost an apology. Then inspiration struck. "Look, do you want to get even with Daron for embarrassing you? I've got a sketch of him drying off after a shower. You can have it."

Daron stared. "You what?"

Krysta gave him a mischievous smile. "Serves you right. Thank you, Ranga, I'd love it."

Ranga rippled through his sketch pad and tore out a sheet, reaching across the table to hand it to Krysta.

Daron intervened taking it from his hand. It was about three quarters of a frontal nude view. He was toweling his hair and talking to someone. Ranga was good. Daron grinned and passed it to Krysta. "There, we're even."

Without asking, Daron took the sketchbook and started paging through. They were all there in varying stages of dress and undress. There was one of Larr still in his uniform slumped on a bench looking totally disgusted after a bad game. There was one of Big Luis in his briefs standing waving his arms as he told one of those long-winded stories of his. Maras was sitting pre-game in full uniform reaching down to carefully adjust a shin protector. There was one of Isley and Red in street clothes arguing about something.

Daron stopped his snooping to say accusingly to Ranga, "You've been sneaking around drawing the team!" He said it loudly enough that heads turned at the neighboring tables.

"I have not been sneaking!" Ranga was indignant. "When I'm changed I sit down and I draw. If you haven't noticed, you're blind! Most of the guys have checked the drawings out." He added with some pride, "Rundell even asked for one of the sketches of him to send home to his wife."

Daron was only half listening. He had come to a series of portrait style sketches of Mercan with his comic rubbery face and that absolute mess of hair he was currently experimenting with. It had turned into a joke. There was a team the pool as to when there would be too much hair to jam into a helmet, and of course Mercan was determined to keep the pool going as long as he could.

"These are really good." Daron turned the book first so Krysta could see the sketch of Mercan, then Dawn. The next page was a blank. He flipped through a few more. They were blank too. "That's it?"

Ranga nodded.

Then Daron noticed a page that had slipped out of line at the back of the book. "What's this?" he asked. He had baited Ranga just about enough, so he'd better be polite and ask.

Ranga half smiled. "Take a look."

Daron pulled the sheet out. It was a nude of Ranga sprawled on a bed looking not at all attractively or artistically arranged. He was sulky, scowling at the ceiling. It looked like he had pulled the blanket across himself, but it had slipped off and he'd just left it that way. Daron looked at Ranga, then at the picture, then asked with uncertainty, "Did Elvira draw this?"

Ranga nodded.

Daron looked back at the sketch. "I didn't know she did life studies."

"Who is Elvira?" Krysta asked, wishing she wouldn't have to stretch if she wanted to see the sketch. Daron had held the other so it was easy to see but he was holding this one so only he could see it.

"My kid sister. You've probably seen her stuff in the fashion magazines. Wicked caricatures signed with a big E and a squiggle no one can read."

"Oh!" It was a delighted gasp from both girls.

Daron gave an exaggerated sigh. "Ranga, sometimes I think Elvira is more famous than we are, only no one knows who she is."

"Can I see it?" In her excitement Dawn forgot herself.

Daron looked at Ranga who shook his head.

"I don't think so." Daron shut the sketchbook and gave it back to Ranga. "When Ranga was fifteen, Elvira was totally stuck on what to give him for his birthday. So she gave him a night at her place. I guess she figured his sex education should stop being hypothetical. Anyways they surprised us all by not resurfacing until supper the next day. They've had an off and on affair ever since. The sketch is rather intimate."

"Oh!" Dawn was mortified.

Daron looked at Ranga and grinned. Dawn looked incredibly disappointed. Was it because she couldn't see the sketch, or because Ranga had a girlfriend? To his surprise Ranga did not smile back.

Ranga turned to Dawn. "I'm sorry Dawn. Daron sometimes puts things crudely. There's nothing wrong with the sketch. It's a life study, that's all. But Elvira went out of her way to make it as unflattering as she could. You've seen her stuff. She can be vicious when she wants to, and she wanted to. We'd had words and it was her way of getting even. I didn't mind Daron seeing it. He's seen me in worse moods in the dressing room. But I'm not showing it around."

"That's all right." Dawn told herself that Ranga's life was none of her business. And she really didn't like this talk of nudes and nights with Elvira and such. Maybe she should go find her sister.

Ranga was watching her face. "I'm not having an affair with Elvira - on or off." He had been telling himself that for the last four months since she'd dumped him again. "She is only a year younger than Daron, and for a while it amused her to have a boy toy. That's all."

Well, well. Daron was amused. So Ranga liked this ugly little one. Maybe it was because she had a worse beak of a nose than he did. She probably wouldn't grow into it either and would end up with sculpting.

"I'm sorry Dawn. I didn't mean to upset you." When their was no response Daron prompted, "Say that's fine."

"Daron!" Krysta scolded. "Don't you ever quit trying to embarrass people?"

Daron was honestly surprised. "I just wanted Dawn to talk, that's all. She hasn't said a dozen words, but each of those words gave me goosebumps. Are you a professional singer, Dawn? Your voice is really something."

Dawn was shocked into flustered speech. "Oh no! I couldn't. I mean ... I like to sing but I'm no good!"

"And who told you that?" Daron demanded. "That blonde bitch friend of your sister?" The embarrassed stare at her glass answered that one. Daron said more gently, "Don't let someone like that put you down. If I'd listened to the dozens of people who said I was lousy at Octagla I would have quit when I was playing juvenile." He turned to Ranga. "See what I mean about her voice?"

"It's nice," Ranga agreed, embarrassed for Dawn and hoping the topic would die.

"Nice! You're as bad as the blonde." He turned back to Dawn. "I tell you what. You keep at it and I'll be the first one to buy whatever kind of album you make a few years from now."

*****

Chapter 12

Ranga and Dawn wandered idly through the shopping arcade such as it was. Daron had forgotten his role of chaperone and had gone off with Krysta after their meal in the café. To Daron's suite, if Daron had his way, was Ranga's guess, but Ranga would not say that was a sure thing with Krysta. A display of peripherals in a computer store caught his eye, and he went into the store.

"Ranga." Dawn's voice was less hesitant now. She had discovered Ranga was easy to talk to. "Does Daron know what he's talking about?"

Ranga's main attention was on the display. There were a few models he had never seen before. "Sometimes. The rest of the time he doesn't let it bother him – he talks anyways."

"Oh." Dawn tried to pretend interest in the display.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just wondered."

She was withdrawing again. Ranga focused. "You're wondering what he knows about music?"

"Of course not." Dawn picked the first item she saw on the display. "Oh, look at that little compad. Isn't the shape nice? I've never seen one like this before." Then she bit her lip as she belatedly realized her mother had got a wine colored one just like it for her birthday a couple months ago. Boy, Ranga would think she was dumb.

"It's smart looking," Ranga agreed tactfully. The model was over a year old, but maybe they'd just introduced it on Pendrae. Then taking Dawn's hand he said, "I need to stretch my legs. Want to take one of the walks?"

There would be less people staring at them there and trying to eavesdrop. Every space station had color-coded walks marked on the floors. The walks varied in length from half a kilometer up to the full circumference of the torus, both to encourage fitness of the residents and to let people just off a space liner have a break from a treadmill. They tended to go places you normally wouldn't – out to the factories, through the hydroponics, through the office areas – just to get length to them. On the Tamara station most were through parks but Ranga had only found one park here, and it was too far to get Dawn to her space yacht in time.

"Sure." Dawn wondered if he even knew he was holding her hand, but she liked it.

***

This had been a good idea Ranga decided. Dawn was relaxed and happy again, and he liked to see her relaxed and happy. They were following the one and a half kilometer orange stripe and at the moment seemed to be going through an administration section. At any rate, there were lots of closed doors, and a few minutes ago they had gone past an open area with six secretaries.

Dawn seemed to like walking. She had long legs, and he hadn't had to accommodate his stride to hers. In fact, on the one stairwell they had climbed, she'd raced him and won, and since then they had both been going at a good pace. He looked at her flushed face beside him. All he would have to do is reach over a bit to kiss her. He was tempted, but she'd probably really bolt and run, so he tried to put the idea out of his head.

Ranga slowed down slightly. "Dawn, you were wondering if Daron could sing."

"Just curious," she said casually. At least she hoped it was casually.

"Well, you can find out if you listen to that album of Kit's that's due to be released next month. They have one duet, and Daron does background vocals on a couple other songs."

Dawn came to a complete stop, mortified now that she'd let Daron even think she could sing. "You mean he sings professionally – like Kit?" Kit had been an idol of hers when she was a kid. He was so sexy with that voice of his, and his lean long dark haired stage look. Dawn wasn't sure she liked his new style much though. But she had all the old Also Ran albums. "Why haven't I ever heard about it?"

"Because he isn't that great," Ranga said realistically. "I mean, he can carry a tune and he has a decent light tenor, but he'll never be looking at a career change. He and Kit are buddies though, and Kit decided it would be amusing to list Superstud as a featured artist. And Daron was game – he'd never tried making a recording and he likes to try things to see what they are really like. So Kit came up with something Daron sounded good singing. Kept to his range and he didn't have to do much."

"But he's singing with Kit." Dawn was determined to be awed.

"And he thinks you could sing professionally too."

"Oh no." Dawn blushed. "He was just being nice."

"Believe me. That's one thing Daron never bothers to be."

"Ranga! That's not nice either."

"Probably not," Ranga agreed, then reverted to his point. "But he's right. You have a really good voice."

"Do you think so?" For a moment she was excited, then the animation faded. "It doesn't matter though. My family would never let me be a singer."

"Why not?"

"They're both professionals. One's an accountant, one an analyst. We are all expected to be like them."

They were walking again, but slowly. "Do you have to do what they want you to?" Ranga asked.

"No..."

It was unconvincing. Ranga said sympathetically, "Families can be a real problem, can't they?"

"How do you know? I mean," Dawn try to soften it, "you're an Octagla player and ..." She trailed off, not sure how to say Ranga was famous and couldn't possibly have anything wrong in his life.

"Want to bet?" Ranga asked bitterly.

They walked in silence. At last Dawn said hesitantly, "You don't have to tell me, but you can."

"I intend to. I was just waiting until there was a connecting corridor in sight, so if you decided to bolt and run you'd have somewhere to go."

"Ranga!" Dawn giggled, thinking he was teasing her. Then she saw his face. "What is it?"

"You want to know – here, now?"

"If you want tell me."

He looked at the young, innocent face. Goodbye Dawn. Well, maybe that was best. "Have you ever heard of Ghen Kulgalu?" Ranga pushed his hair back the way his father wore his and lifted his chin like Ghen.

"Of course. He's – oh!"

"Yes, oh." Ranga could never figure out why more people didn't make the connection since the family resemblance was so strong. "Besides being what he is, he's my father. Now. No one's stopping you. You can leave."

Dawn was insulted. "Ranga. You're you, not your father." She blushed slightly. "You're very nice, I can tell. And you're an Octagla player, not ..." She trailed off, embarrassed to say all the things she'd heard about Ghen Kulgalu. Poor Ranga. Her heart was in her eyes.

"And you're very sweet." He reached over to touch her cheek. "But how do you know I'm not up to my ears in the drug business?"

"Because you wouldn't be, would you?" she asked earnestly.

"Of course not," Ranga agreed. He must be getting to be a better liar. First Daron bought his not having been meeting Cobyn Gadd. And now there wasn't a shadow of doubt in Dawn's eyes.

How had he got into this mess anyways? Ranga didn't know. Well, that wasn't quite true. He knew how it had started. Innocently enough compared to how it was now. One night between games on a layover on the Pendrae space station Zloenni had been in a mood to amuse herself with a boy toy, and she found the fact he was Ghen's son an added fillip. On his part he'd found her exciting, and the fact she was his father's rival and nemesis had made the sneaking out of curfew to join her even more of a thrill.

But how Cobyn Gadd had gotten into the loop and he'd ended up courier Ranga couldn't figure out. But one thing he knew for sure. All those stories his grandfather had told him were lies. The old man had told him story after story of how exciting his life had been – outwitting customs agents, planning and winning wars with the competition, surviving hit-men on his trail. He'd eaten it up, and bought the old man's assessment that his father was a coward, hiding behind city suits and lawyers.

But they had been lies those stories. Ranga had put himself through enough tests to get to where he was in an Octagla court to know he was no coward. But most of the things he was doing now had him scared sick, and he'd do almost anything to get out of it. Anything but the one thing that would get him out of it for sure – tell Ghen what was going on and ask for help. He couldn't do that. Zloenni had made that clear one night, that telling Ghen would be signing his father's death sentence. So he just pretended it was like he'd been traded to a team he hated. He'd do what the coach said until he saw an out.

Dawn was watching his face. "It hasn't been very nice for you, has it?"

Ranga was quite sure he couldn't stand sympathy. "It's all right," he said brusquely. "We must be almost back at the arcade. What do you want to do there?"

Dawn accepted the change of topic. "We could -" Her compad call tone sounded. In panic she looked at the time strip on her wrist. "I'm late!"

"Well, answer and say you are on your way." They were on the topmost third floor with the torus roof curving ten meters above them. Ranga started looking for an elevator shaft up to the space station core. "There's an elevator just over there." He pointed, then as Dawn seemed totally oblivious to him touched her arm and pointed again. She nodded in relief.

"For someone in a hurry, your sister had a lot to say!" Ranga observed as she at last put her compad in her bag.

Dawn pulled a face. "It wasn't my sister. The yacht belongs to her friend's father."

"Well, lets get going." Ranga took off at a lope.

***

For a moment Dawn was completely intent on pulling on the adhesive soled shoe covers that would let her walk in the almost zero g core where the space yachts docked. Then she realized Ranga was doing the same thing.

"You don't have to come."

"I made you late."

Dawn gave him a grateful smile. Ranga really was nice.

They rode up in silence. Dawn was obviously preoccupied with the coming confrontation. Ranga watched her face. What a bitch that blonde was. The elevator ride wouldn't be much longer. The display strip warned them the elevator would decelerate soon and to be prepared for weightlessness. All he had to do was turn Dawn, kiss her. And then what? He couldn't drag her into this mess.

As he stood there in indecision the door opened.

Dawn turned, "Thanks Ranga, there's no need ..." She stopped, startled as he put an arm around her waist.

"I see them. Let's go."

"Well, at last!" The blonde froze as she saw two, not one figure get out of the elevator.

"I hope we haven't kept your pilot waiting too long," Ranga said sounding just as unapologetic as Ghen would have. "But we got busy talking music."

"Music?" There was open skepticism in the blonde's voice.

Ranga ignored her, but he could feel Dawn trembling. He spoke to Dawn's sister. "Daron is releasing an album with Kit. He's asked Dawn to send him the first copy of her first album."

"Her what?" the blonde asked.

Dawn's sister looked from Dawn to Ranga, then back to Dawn. "That is a real compliment," she said at last. "We'll have to tell mother. Thank Daron for us please, Ranga."

Ranga turned and released Dawn. "I won't make you any later. Just remember to send that album." He leaned forward, gently touching her lips with his.

"Well, I never!" the blonde scowled.

*****

Chapter 13

Isley looked at his time strip. 10:01. Time to make rounds for curfew. There was no way he was just calling and trusting anyone to be in their room rather than answering from elsewhere. Tonight was a room check by him personally. It was an early room check too because the whole team was in his disfavor. There wasn't a player other than Daron who hadn't shown up yawning at practice that afternoon and they had all been sweating from just a light workout. He would start with the problem.

***

Big Luis opened his door immediately and gestured for Isley to enter. Then he shut the door.

"I already know I screwed up. An apology doesn't change anything, but I am sorry." He shrugged helplessly. "The party got out of hand."

"At least you recognize that," Isley said. "And did you see Mikael, Gorton, and Andrzej there making sure the party kept in full swing while Kendrix had everyone playing for Pendrae United back in their rooms?" Mikael, Gorton, and Andrzej were assistants to the Pendrae United coach.

Big Luis stared. "I saw them there, sure. Are you saying it was a setup?"

"Let's say Kendrix probably covered the eventuality you might decide to party some night in his strategy. But the team was doing a pretty good job on its own." Isley sighed. "From now on, ask first before pulling that 'let's party stunt', okay?"

"Okay." Then Big Luis grinned. "But we'll never beat Pendrae United with that kind of spread again!"

Isley restrained the reply that deserved.

***

Daron was next door. Isley wondered if it was even worth checking, then decided to be thorough.

"Hi Coach, come in."

Daron was obviously nervous and Isley couldn't guess why. It was also the first time Daron had ever asked him into his room, not blocked the door. He looked for the inevitable woman. She was sitting in a chair and looked like she'd been reading. That was strange enough that Isley gave her a second look. She was a quiet brunette, not Daron's type at all. He got an apologetic nervous smile.

"Isley, this is Krysta. I'm introducing you because I have asked Krysta to stay until we leave in four days." Daron looked seriously at his coach. "I've never done this before, and if you think at any time I'm losing my edge, that's your call. I'll say I made a mistake. But I want her here unless that happens."

Isley did not answer immediately. He was busy rearranging his thoughts. Daron was the only functioning player in the court today. But he did not want to set a precedent. All the same, if he said no, Daron could just get his back up like he usually did, and ignore him, saying 'So fine me!'. He didn't need friction right now.

"Please," Daron added softly.

Please? Not 'So fine me!' It couldn't be. Daron couldn't finally be in love. No. Isley was watching his face. No?

"Show up focused," Isley said. "Nice to meet you, Krysta."

***

Rundell opened the door with a beaming smile that shouldn't have been there with the pain his arm was giving him.

"Her checkup went better this time?" Isley asked.

"Much." Rundell was relieved and glad to have another married man to talk to. Someone who would understand. "Her obstetrician is even letting her trying walking twice a day." Two weeks ago it had looked like she was going to be in a hospital bed for the duration of her pregnancy.

"Wonderful!"

***

The small table in Ranga's room was cluttered with crumpled sheets from his sketchpad. He had found Dawn on a social networking site and was trying to draw her, but she kept looking different than he remembered her. He didn't mind, he had enjoyed just trying. Besides, it had been such a relief to tell Zloenni that he was on a tight curfew that nothing was bothering him. In a bit he might try some hacking.

"Hello Isley," Ranga had the door wide enough open the coach could see in, but he did not invite him inside.

"Hi Ranga. How is the art going?"

"Tonight nothing is working," Ranga said shyly. "I'm going to compute."

Isley nodded.

***

Mercan opened the door a crack.

"So fine me!"

He grinned and shut the door before Isley could reply.

This was Pendrae so it would be Kaith, Isley decided.

***

Roban was immersed in a simulation and didn't notice the first entry request tone. He did the louder second.

"Isley, I was doing a simulation. Did I keep you?"

He held the door wide open, but Isley would have believed he was alone anyways. Roban never had a woman in his room.

"Just don't stay up at it all night."

***

"Coach Isley." Maras beamed at his coach. "I been re-watching the game. Sabian got a new kind of pass he tried twice."

"Does he?" Isley had noticed the same thing studying holograms of the game, but he tried to never discourage Maras. "Mark the section and we'll all look at it pre-game."

*****

Chapter 14

As he quickly stepped back out of the café door Roban's plain, honest face showed a mixture of concern and indecision. He realized intellectually that Ranga was perhaps the last person in the galaxy he should feel sorry for if he ended up on drugs, but he was worried. He'd been worried ever since Daron had shown him images of three or four people who might be supplying Ranga, and a couple more to just watch out for because they were trouble. Daron had asked Roban to keep his eyes open, and if he saw any of these people to not do anything but to come to him.

Daron had of course then taken off with some woman and no doubt totally forgotten Ranga. Roban hadn't though. He liked Ranga, really admired his playing, and enjoyed having another teammate serious about computing. It would be a shame if he messed himself up. And now Roban thought he saw one of the men Daron had said might be supplying Ranga. He hadn't meant to see anyone. In fact, he hadn't been trying to look because Ranga was usually at his computer in the late morning. Besides, he simply didn't like the idea of spying. Roban had just come down to the lobby because he was tired of his room and needed new aftershave, and that was as good an excuse as any to wander around. On his way to the little shop in the lobby he had decided to walk over to the entrance to the coffee shop to take a look and see if anyone on the team was there. If they were, he'd have a glass of juice before he did his shopping.

From out of line of sight, Roban finished scanning the room. No one on the team was there. But it was quite possible the man having a hot beverage and those crusty nut rolls they seemed to like on Pendrae was the one Daron had called Cobyn Gadd. So what did he do now? Roban stood for a minute thinking. Before he interrupted Daron he'd better decide if this really was Cobyn Gadd.

Roban mentally compared his glimpse of the man to the image Daron had shown him. A mane of light brown hair, a slit to the waist tunic Daron said was Cobyn Gadd's trademark, and a heavy gold chain with a medallion that must weigh a kilo. Daron had said Gadd always wore a chain and heavy medallion and it wasn't a fashion statement. Gadd was very, very good with a chain in flight.

Sometimes Roban worried about Daron. Now, if this creepy guy was Cobyn Gadd in the flesh, he was really worried about Daron – and Ranga. Well, there wasn't anything to do but to take a better look and make sure. Roban was reasonably confident Gadd hadn't seen him in the few moments he had been in the doorway. Maybe his luck would hold now. He walked back to the door, his compad in his hand like he had just made a call.

It didn't. Cobyn Gadd saw him at almost the same time Roban relocated him. There was immediate recognition in those cold eyes, replaced almost instantly with what could have been amusement. Gadd put his napkin on the table, preparing to rise.

Roban let his eyes slide past in what he hoped looked like indifference, deliberately finishing looking around for teammates he knew weren't there. At the same time he put his compad in his pouch, taking a series of pictures in the process and hoping one was a good one of the man. Then he turned his back on Cobyn Gadd who was now standing, and left. Roban supposed this could have been innocent, that Cobyn was a fan. He had no intention of finding out.

Roban headed for the little toiletries shop. He was not leaving the lobby until he saw Cobyn Gadd leave the hotel. Roban flatly refused to consider what he would do if the man headed towards the elevator. Ranga's room was at the top, two levels up. Roban stretched the purchase out, selecting lotion he didn't need and sampling a scent he'd seen advertised and would never wear even if he liked it. He didn't wear scents other than aftershave. It wasn't until he saw Gadd leave the café and walk out of the hotel that he paid for his purchases and let himself relax. It had been chance that Gadd was here, that was all. After all there weren't that many places to eat on the space station.

A grandmother waylaid him halfway across the lobby.

"Oh, Roban. I never thought in a million lifetimes I'd see you up close. Could I possibly have an autograph?"

Roban waited patiently, looking down at her gray curls as she rummaged in her purse for something to sign.

"Oh, this is perfect." She brought out a small book with a floral cover. "I was sure my diary was in my room – I do like to draw when I make entries, and a compad just isn't the same."

Roban saw glimpses of words, sketches of flowers, a tree, as she flipped.

"Here we are. An empty page. Sorry to keep you. Now," she twinkled up at him, "since I'm being a pest could I have two signatures? My grandson is twelve, and he's up here for a practice. That's why I'm on the space station – filling in for my daughter as Octagla mom. He'll be furious he missed you – he's a winger too.

"And my granddaughter – a different family – my son's, not my daughter's child – well –" she gave Roban a mischievous smile, "she's eighteen and has a tremendous crush on you."

"Sure." Roban took the diary and pen. "What's your grandson's name and team?"

"Oh! He'll be the envy of every boy on it. It's Michael, on the Pendrae Mesas. That's –"

Out of the corner of his eye Roban saw a motion at the door. Cobyn Gadd, he was almost sure. He shifted position slightly and looked up again to meet arrogant assessing eyes.

"Could you spell that team name again?" He hadn't heard a word the old lady had said after he saw Cobyn.

"M–E–S–A-S."

Roban dutifully wrote it down. No way was he leaving until he saw what this Cobyn Gadd was up to.

"There you go." He flipped the page. "And your granddaughter?"

"Shilla. She spells it S-h-i-l-l-a."

Gadd had moved on, but Roban didn't trust him. He'd stay a little longer. "And have you any images of that grandson of yours playing?"

***

Cool. Very cool. Cobyn continued walking down the corridor, a thoughtful frown on his face. Daron had quite the understudy in training. No, understudy wasn't quite the right word. Didn't Ranga say Roban's nickname was Sidekick because he was always at Daron's side?

Cobyn could count on one hand the number of men who would have dared stare him down like Roban had in the restaurant. Of that number only two would have contemptuously turned their back like that – Ghen Kulgalu and Daron's father Devan. That waiting in the lobby with a fan was very smooth too. It made surveillance look natural. Oh yes, this Roban was good. Zloenni would be disappointed that her message couldn't be delivered, and that she'd have to entertain herself for a few hours without Ranga. Her pique wouldn't last though – Roban's behavior should distract her quite well.

***

"Daron, I have to talk to you. Get dressed and come to my room." Roban had some questions to ask that Daron would not want to answer in front of his new woman. He might not answer them anyways, but Roban had every intention of trying.

Daron searched Roban's face, then his eyes flicked to Ranga's door down the hall.

Roban nodded.

"I'll be there in a minute." Daron closed the door and turned to Krysta. "Strategy session. Can you amuse yourself? I'm not sure how long we'll be. Probably under an hour."

"Sure." Krysta was glad of some time to herself. She needed a fast trip to a shop. She didn't have a thing suitable to wear to a private box at an Octagla game, and that's where Daron said she'd be, in the team box. Her budget was tight, but at least she could get a new trendy T-shirt to layer over her weightless unitard. That should be fine for a sporting event. And Alisha would give her a good discount once she'd explained what the need was, maybe good enough she could afford a designer T-shirt. "If you're back sooner, and I'm not here I'll just be shopping for something to wear tonight."

Daron had already pulled on pants and a top and was heading for the door. "Buy purple. I love purple."

***

"What's up?" Daron asked the moment the door to Roban's room was closed.

"I saw Cobyn Gadd in the café."

"Are you sure?"

Roban nodded. "I came back and checked the image you showed me against a couple I took just now." He'd lucked out. Three were clear.

"Damn! Do you think he was with Ranga before that?"

"No," Roban said so firmly that Daron gave him a quizzical look. "I watched until he left, then about five minutes later he tried to come back, but when he saw me watching he left again. So I think he was going to Ranga, not coming from him."

"You let Cobyn see you watching him?"

"A granny had me doing autographs in the middle of the lobby." Roban looked straight at Daron. "You said he's bad news. Should I have pretended to not see him and let him come up?"

"No," Daron sighed, and flopped in a chair. "What exactly happened?"

***

There was a silence when Roban finished, then Daron said in awe, "So you actually stared down Cobyn Gadd."

Roban shrugged. "What did you get me into, Daron? Why did Cobyn Gadd recognize me as something other than a player? I didn't like what I saw in his face." If it had been in an Octagla court and he saw that look on another player, he'd be watching his back for the next few games.

Good questions, Daron thought, and more accurately phrased as what trouble are we both in if Cobyn knows he's being watched.

"Daron." There was a warning edge to Roban's voice as he stared down at his friend.

"I know, I know. I'm just figuring out where to start." So I don't lose my best friend, Daron finished mentally.

"The beginning?" It was sarcastic. Roban didn't like this stalling.

"Before the beginning," Daron decided abruptly. "Do you remember that night not long after you joined the team when we helped Bojo out, keeping an Anton party relatively drug-free?"

Roban nodded. That had been quite an education. "It was good of you to help out. Was Cobyn one of the guys that got run off?"

Daron shook his head. "No, if he'd showed up there would have been a real problem. The reason I'm starting there is that..." Daron had the grace to look uncomfortable.

"Yes?" Roban asked quietly and took a chair opposite Daron. His irritation evaporated as he realized something was really bothering Daron.

"There's no way to put this and look good," Daron said. "I wasn't helping a friend. It was a cash job."

Roban was lost. "But why? There are security agencies and you're an Octagla player. You don't need cash."

"Bojo did hire the best security agency for that kind of job – my dad's crew. You see," he was talking to a chair leg, "my dad acts as an enforcer for Ghen Kulgalu. He has a team that keeps Ghen's business in line – and keeps the competition out of Ghen's territory. If Bojo wanted a party really clean, we were the ones that could do it."

Roban chose to shy away from the main point. "Joran was stoned out of his mind."

Daron nodded. "It was getting into any legal problems from guests Bojo was worried about. He made it clear that Joran wasn't our concern."

Roban lapsed into a meditative silence. Daron decided to save him the trouble of making excuses for him.

"And before you ask why I was there, not my dad's crew, I sub in now and again. It keeps me in practice. And –" Daron stopped abruptly.

"Damn it Roban, look at me! And as to why I didn't tell you, you didn't need to be part of that world. Soimvell Shipping is perfectly legit in itself and makes good money without shipping Ghen's drugs. Dad does the drug side out of friendship. So all you needed to know was you're friends with Superstud who plays Octagla and his family owns Soimvell Shipping, a legitimate firm."

A sudden grin spread across Daron's face. "Except of course that Little Bitch is the expediter for Ghen's business – but you can't stand my sister anyways."

Roban was watching Daron closely. "You're taking all this like it's a joke," he said accusingly.

Daron shook his head. "No. As soon as Cobyn Gadd enters, nothing is a joke."

"Who is he really, Daron?"

"I didn't lie. He is known to act as a courier and deliver drugs, and for someone like Ranga he'd be the likely choice. But as to who he is – he's the equivalent of my father – Zloenni's head enforcer."

Roban thought about that. Devan Soimvell and Cobyn Gadd were not the same man any more than Big Luis and Jonagar were.

"I'll go back to what I said, Daron, you're treating this like it's every day."

Daron shrugged. "It's the life I live. Look at you on Kytherial. You don't seem to even worry about those big cats – the kind that ripped your leg open."

Point taken. Roban couldn't think of a thing to say.

"What bothers me," Daron mused, "is the way Cobyn reacted to you. I avoid him, but when I can't we try to stare each other down. You shouldn't have meant any more to him than Maras or Mercan."

Except I'm with you all the time, Roban thought. "I'm not continuing to walk blind, Daron. We are going to go over every face you showed me before, only this time you are going to tell me who they really are. Everything."

*****

Chapter 15

Weren't right. Maras scowled around the dressing room at his relaxed, bantering team mates. Were gonna lose.

No one had paid any attention to his showing how Sabian had changed his pass. No one had listened much to Isley's pre-game talk either. Mercan had even bent down to adjust a shin pad while Isley were still talking. They was gonna lose.

***

Again! Maras gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his stick. Rundell had been slow to stick check Koji, and Koji had got a pass off to Sabian. Couldn't get down on Rundell. That arm were hurt bad. But Mercan should've been there.

Sabian moved fast, bringing the play in. Bralin was close behind, Ranga trying to catch up. Maras moved to block Sabian. If he passed off it wouldn't be to Bralin. It would be -

Shit! Sabian snapped off a pass with that new style of his all the way across the court to where Jaik was coming in high, and Big Luis were low.

Big Luis moved full jets to recover position, but Jaik got the shot off. It went in, one centimeter from bouncing off the right goal post. Tarell had really tried, but the reach was too far. The buzzer sounded.

Pendrae United 3, Tamara 0.

It didn't get any better. The period ended Pendrae United 5 Tamara 0.

***

"Do you think that since you went to the trouble of suiting up, you could go to the trouble of playing out there?" Isley's voice was acid.

The team seemed to find either the floor or the ceiling fascinating.

"All right. You are supposed to be pros and you know how you screwed up. You thought Pendrae United would be a push over again. Well, they aren't. Keep this up and they'll get the split. And that could cost us top spot in the playoffs. And we want that position. We want the three-peat!"

Daron knew it was his position as team captain to say something, but he was flat. His mind was on the fact both Zloenni and Cobyn Gadd had front seats in one of the private boxes. Those pairs of eyes that seemed focussed on him exclusively had totally dominated his thoughts. He hadn't even remembered sweet Krysta in the team the box until about halfway through the quarter. But she had been easy to spot in a very purple top with white zigzags across it. The thought of her worried face helped him find his tongue.

"We hear you." Then more firmly, "And we have three periods to make it a win." Then to the silence of his team mates, "Right?"

"Right!" Came from the team. Then louder, "Right!"

"Good." Isley added, "Maras, show us that new trick Sabian has again. It has cost us at least two of the goals. And Larr pay attention. No offense Rundell, we're resting your arm."

***

Do what you do, Daron told himself. Nothing outside this court matters. Do what you do. All he needed ... okay! He had the face-off. Daron faked a pass then started up court himself with a fast twist and a burst of his jets to get past Cinnit.

Get Jaik and Bralin moving in on him. Good. Let Bralin get a little closer and... right. Ranga's position is perfect. Daron passed and rolled with Bralin's check.

Ranga netted the ball and took a course that looked like he was passing Jonagar to the center of the court.

Keep going Ranga, keep going, Daron mentally urged. No hesitation. That's right. And, not a shot, a fast pass to Roban on the wall.

Yes! Only Roban could take a shot at that angle. Yes! They were in the game even if Ranga got his bell rung.

Forty seven seconds into the second period:

Pendrae United 5 Tamara 1

***

Larr's eyes flicked from Isley to Roban to Daron to Isley as the line came in to change. Jaik was being too damned much trouble out there. They were scoring, but Pendrae United was matching them goal for goal. There was 1:30 left, and it was 8 to 4. They had to at least make it 8 to 5.

"Jaik's mine." Larr said.

Isley shook his head. "No penalties, no injuries."

"I know," Larr said. "Jaik's mine." He'd just make sure Jaik didn't have room to breathe.

***

Cinnit took the face-off, but when he went to pass off to Jaik as planned, Larr was in the way and looking like he intended to stay there. So Cinnit headed into the Tamara end alone, Bralin following then jetting ahead of him to set up in front of the net.

No way! Maras weren't having no more of this. He closed in on Bralin giving him a crease-clearing check that sent him spinning out of the goal area. He turned to focus on Cinnit, but Daron was there and they were shoving each other.

Daron took a legal swipe at Cinnit's stick, knocking the ball loose. Before Koji, the closest Pendrae United player could respond, Roban had the ball and was back in the Pendrae United end. He was wrong side, coming in on Ferdik. He twisted sideways and took a shot before Ferdik could close in. Arrof was screened and started moving too late.

The first half ended Pendrae United 8, Tamara 5.

***

"Larr, get out of my space," Jaik growled.

"Not a chance," Larr said. This was working. They had closed the gap, then Cinnit had got just plain lucky so the score was 10 to 7.

"I mean it Larr!" Jaik gave him a shove.

"You putting yourself out of the game again?" Larr moved right back in.

"No." Jaik jetted off for a line change. Larr took the opportunity for a few fast words with Big Luis. If they could just get Jaik to lose his temper again...

***

Larr wasn't fighting the momentum that carried him backwards. That check had smarted. But as soon as he had his breath he was right back blocking Jaik. He could see that the referee was half watching. He closed in, not only to where he could intercept a pass, but also to where he was blocking Jaik's view. And when Henron tried -

All right! Larr intercepted the pass in the same instant that Jaik turned his miss into a vicious butt end to the ribs. Larr didn't have to fake the pain as the stick connected. He couldn't carry the ball in this shape but that didn't matter. Bourarra had signaled a penalty on Jaik. He'd take a chance.

Mercan was near enough he could pass to him despite the pain, but Mercan wasn't clear. Koji was right behind him. It was his only option though, so Larr risked the pass. He was off.

Mercan had to really stretch and twist to net it. But the torque that twist gave him put Koji at a disadvantage unless he wanted to take the next penalty and leave Pendrae United two short for five minutes. He didn't. Mercan was clear and going in on Ferdik alone.

Mercan didn't have a good record alone on Ferdik this season, and they both knew it. It was probably that damned bet they'd had running all season. But what the hell! He came in fast on a blast of full jets with still enough torque that his trajectory was hard to judge. Even Mercan wasn't sure where he was going. A change of stick side, another blast of jets, and he would be clear enough to get a shot off. And there was one good thing. On the times he did get past Ferdik, Mercan knew every weak spot Arrof had. He was clear! Mercan took his shot and found one of those weak spots.

The gap narrowed again to Pendrae United 10, Tamara 8.

Mercan swore under his breath in five languages. If he'd seen that goal coming, he'd have gone double or nothing with Ferdik that he could score. Then he was all grins as Bourara called Jaik for five and his team mates piled on him.

***

"Rundell, can you manage to play the five?" Isley asked. Rundell was one of their highest scorers. Larr was medium at best and he was still doubled over swearing at Jaik.

Rundell nodded. Doc reached for the neuroblock.

***

Do what you are here to do. There was no chatter between Daron and Cinnit this time, only an electric tension. Do what you are here to do.

Daron took the face-off and passed to Roban. Tamara had the power and control now. There was no need for strategy. Strength was what they needed. Rundell and Mercan on right and Ranga on left followed Roban in. Bralin and Sabian were there, Sabian setting up to help out Jonagar, Bralin crossing to support Ferdik.

Roban kept control, then when he was almost at the defensive mass ahead of him, he snapped a pass not to Rundell or Ranga, but to Daron who had hung back at center. This forced Bralin who was straying towards Ferdik back to center court. Before Ferdik could reposition himself, Daron passed to the almost clear Rundell.

Taking the shot hurt like hell, but Rundell almost got full velocity. Arrof got a piece of it, but that wasn't enough. It went in high in the right corner.

Pendrae 10, Tamara 9.

Cinnit took the face-off but Daron checked his stick before he could pass off. The ball went wild. Ranga netted it and took off along the wall, jetting but ready to run. Koji was sticking to Rundell like glue this time so Roban told Ranga to keep going.

Sabian came at Ranga full jets. Ranga closed the short gap to the wall, took two strides to balance himself, and used the contact with the solid wall to get a much harder pass than he could usually manage off to Daron.

This was an old, old scenario. Daron didn't have to think, to hurry. He took his time. The shot was a low high-velocity bounce. The goal buzzer sounded as Jaik came out of the box. Tied game. He just had a glimpse of Krysta's radiant face before his team mates piled on him.

Tamara 10, Pendrae United10

***

The game became defensive, Big Luis adopting his proactive style, trying to make up for sins real and imagined, Maras trying to get that MVP. At the other end Ferdik and Jonagar were doing the same.

"Pendrae United! Pendrae United! Pendrae United!"

The crowd was pushing their home team as the last minutes of the quarter disappeared.

"Pendrae United! Pendrae United!"

Rundell missed a pass. Mercan got the bounce, but he'd missed a pass. He jetted to the box, arm raised.

"Sorry," Rundell said as he passed Larr going out to cover for him.

Isley shrugged. "You played longer than I expected and got us one goal."

Mercan tried to push the play into the Pendrae United end, but Jaik decked him. It was legal, but he decked him. While Mercan was trying to figure out which way was up, Koji netted the loose ball. He dodged Larr and took the play into the Tamara end.

"Pendrae United! Pendrae United! Pendrae United!" The screams from around the galaxy played into the court were deafening.

Maras and Big Luis tried to make a wall in front of the goal as Jaik, Koji and Bralin came in fast. Sabian was hanging back, slowing down Roban. Koji moved up, passing to Bralin who was moving down. He caught the ball and passed to Jaik in one fluid motion. Jaik scored with seven seconds remaining.

The period ended Pendrae United 11, Tamara 10

*****

Chapter 16

Daron cursed the rotation schedule that had both him and Ranga doing the between periods PR. Usually he didn't mind. With the time it took to recharge and calibrate the jet packs, there was plenty of time to be polite to the box owners, flirt with a few of the reporter babes, and still get a change of unitard and some rest in the dressing room. Still, he couldn't exactly tell Isley they couldn't do it with no reason, could he?

"Come on Ranga, let's go and let the fans smell sweat." Daron headed for the PR area, Ranga a few steps behind.

"Superstud." A crisp looking brunette bristling with microphones put a hand on his arm the moment he passed through the door. "How did it feel to score the tying goal, even if Jaik scored again?"

Bitch. She had to work Jaik into the same sentence she congratulated him with. "Candy," Daron returned. She hated that nickname, but he didn't like her and Hidi didn't like her, and he was in a mood where he'd enjoy aggravating her.

"Not as good as sex. Close, but not as good."

That was airing live too. Good. While Candace glared at him Daron tried to move farther into the room but it seemed every reporter in the place wanted to shove a microphone in his face. Damn! He'd lost sight of Ranga.

Daron made routine answers to routine questions as he scanned the room. The reporters finally started to thin out, and the fans never crowded quite as close, so he could see a bit between shoulders. Yes, there he was, at the far back no doubt avoiding as many fans as possible.

Hell! That red hair could only belong to one person, Zloenni. She was looking stunning tonight in an emerald green weightless unitard with an amber designer tunic over it, jewels at her throat. Daron focused, trying unsuccessfully to lipread. There was no way the conversation could be innocent. Not after what Roban had told him. Daron could feel sweat prick his back as he scanned the room for Cobyn Gadd. No sign of him. At least that was a piece of luck – or was it? Daron wished desperately he knew exactly what was going on.

Be careful. Wanting desperately to know, and being stupid enough to end up dead were not the same thing. Cobyn Gadd would love an excuse to have a go at killing him just to prove he wasn't afraid of anything, including Daron's father. Daron didn't have anything to prove. He knew he was afraid of Cobyn and rightfully so.

Daron answered another routine question from a pretty blonde novice sportscaster and risked one more look. He shouldn't have. His luck ran out and he met Zloenni's eyes. Daron tried to keep an indifferent 'look what kind of slime they let into the boxes here' expression that would be appropriate for an accidental eye contact. But they both knew he wasn't pulling it off. Damn! Damn! Damn! Zloenni had realized he was spying.

Without any hurry at all she smiled and finished saying something to Ranga, then let a possessive hand slide down Ranga's arm. Slowly she worked through the crowd, pausing to speak to this one, that one.

"Superstud." Her smile was warm and seductive, the proffered hand friendly, the eyes ice. "It's a pity you turned to me down. Ranga has more sense."

"Well, there's no accounting for taste, is there?" So, he was right on how she hooked Ranga. He really should have given Ranga a warning off the woman, but he had assumed Ranga had some kind of self-preservation instincts.

The smile faded, and Zloenni's beautifully painted lips pressed in a hard line. There was venom in her look. "It looks like this time you've got yourself in a really tight spot. Do you think you'll get out of it? My money says you've lost."

They both knew damned well they weren't talking Octagla. "I always do." Daron's cocky grin was unchanged while his mind raced.

"Well, I'll be interested to see how. So will Cobyn. It isn't a home game, Daron." With that threat, Zloenni nodded and moved on to talk to Jaik.

Daron stood there, assessing his options, thinking about the coming layover between games. He didn't even respond to the blonde's next question, much less notice her mild flirtation.

***

"Come on, Ranga." Daron walked to the back of the room and firmly took his arm. There was no way he was letting Zloenni near Ranga again. "Time to hit the dressing room."

What was going on to have Zloenni making threats, having Cobyn Gadd handling Ranga? If she just had Ranga in her bed she wouldn't be making threats. She'd be rubbing it in and hoping it got back to Ghen. Even drug use shouldn't account for her reaction. Daron took a sideways look at Ranga. He knew that expression. Even if this wasn't a public corridor with fans all over the place, Ranga wouldn't talk to him. He went over the almost non-existent facts again and got nowhere. The only facts were Cobyn Gadd and that threat. Zloenni obviously thought he knew what he didn't.

Daron told himself to focus on the game. He was not looking forward to the dressing room strategy session. They had to make it a tie game again, and early in the quarter. That meant a slingshot play. This just wasn't his night. He was quiet all the rest of the way to the dressing room, still assessing his options.

***

Maras and Big Luis had really put their backs into it! He was seriously moving. Daron used a side-jet thrust to increase the torque. He wasn't going to get much more velocity. Jonagar was positioning himself well, Daron noted automatically while his attention was on Roban and the coming pass. At this velocity netting a pass took concentration.

Still, he didn't expect anything less of Jonagar. They were both seasoned pros and knew their respective sides of this slingshot play. Jonagar wasn't quite as hard on the center as Maras – he just wasn't as massive – but he was just as mean or meaner, and when he hit you, you stayed hit.

Roban murmered the pass was coming just as Jonagar's body language said he was going for the head, not groin. Maybe his luck was coming back. Daron started counting, giving Roban and Jonagar equal attention in separate parts of his mind. Count. Just count.

The high velocity ball almost wrenched the stick out of Daron's hand. Roban had put all of his force into the pass. Count. Prepare your shot.

Jonagar made his move, the start of a nice, completely illegal, head check.

Daron kept counting. Now! Time to take the shot, to tie the game. He took the shot. In that same split second he saw the look of total shock on Jonagar's face as he moved into, not away from the head check. Then his head exploded.

***

The bastard! Roban watched in horror as Daron's unconscious form tumbled in space. Daron wasn't just stunned. Jonagar's check had been a deliberate attempt to take him out for the series. That thug had done that to players before.

Already nearby, Roban closed the distance full jets and delivered the same butt end he'd used on Bralin. This time though, he didn't check the force and he aimed for unprotected abdomen. He wanted to inflict as much damage as he could, and he knew just how to - because he chose not to fight didn't mean he couldn't.

As Jonagar doubled up, trying not to choke, Jaik grabbed Roban from behind. Roban tried to use an elbow and his stick to break free, but he couldn't get at Jaik. Sabian and Bralin were closing in as Jaik pinned him. Bralin delivered a butt end every bit as vicious as the one Roban had given Jonagar but without the same momentum behind it. Roban gave a stronger wrench and broke free. He made the traditional 'we finish this with bare fists on the wall where we can really do some damage' sign.

Larr jetted out of the bench to help – he could get there faster than Maras or Big Luis and three to one were bad odds. But the defensemen were on their way. Tarell was coming too, looking furious. Then the fans saw the bench clearing brawl of the decade.

*****

Chapter 17

Daron was vaguely aware that he was being handled. It didn't feel like a good idea to open his eyes. Someone must have noticed his semiconsciousness though, because a voice said, "Don't worry Daron, we'll get you to a hospital safely. They'll just stabilize you here."

"No! Trevarr!" They couldn't take him to a hospital planetside and put him in Cobyn Gadd's reach. "Trevarr!" Daron didn't try to keep the hysterical catch from his voice. He risked opening his eyes to see Isley and Doc exchanging puzzled looks.

"No hospital! Trevarr!" he shouted. Or maybe he didn't shout because Doc bent closer like he couldn't hear.

"Daron, are you lucid? Are you telling me you want to go to Trevarr Hendor at Crescent Bay on Gingezel?"

"Yes. Trevarr." Daron knew it was just a whisper this time.

"That means stasis. Are you authorizing stasis?" That was a risk at the best of times and this injury was bad.

"Yes... Yes... Stasis ... Trevarr." Daron passed out.

***

Bourara watched tightlipped as the medics removed Daron and Jonagar in their protective cocoons. Then he let his glare slide over the now subdued players on each team. He motioned to Coach Isley and Coach Kendrix to join him.

"I'm canceling the game. It will be replayed at the end of the season."

Isley and Kendrix nodded.

"On my recommendation the league commissioner is also canceling the next game. No one wants a repeat of tonight. It will also be played at the end of the season."

Kendrix looked like he might say something, but Bourara glared at him. He didn't open his mouth.

Isley nodded. No one needed a grudge match.

"I suggest," Bourara looked at Coach Isley, "that you make life easier for the space station security and depart as soon as feasible. I've had the authorities contact Marti to get your transportation prepared for departure. We don't want a repeat of these facilities being trashed like four years ago." That had been after a game between the Pendrae Suns and Terra, and the rioting in the arena had spread to the space station arcade.

***

Krysta sat white faced as Daron was taken out of the Octagla court. What now? She didn't even know how to find out how bad he was. She was sitting beside Mercan's girlfriend, and Kaith had said the older blonde woman was Marti, the team owner. But Krysta had no intentions of bothering her. She had been murmuring into her compad ever since the accident.

The announcer began, "This game, and the next game, are canceled and will be replayed at the end of the season.

"Penalties for tonight's game are: Tamara: Roban – suspended for the rest of the season. Tarell - fifteen game suspension. Ranga - one game suspension to be served at the make up game. Larr - one game suspension to be served at the make up game.

"Pendrae United: Bralin - suspended for the rest of the season. Sabian - suspended for the rest of the season. Jaik - one game suspension to be served at the make up game.

The announcer moved on to the minor penalties. Part way through the list Kaith had taken Krysta's hand. Now she gave it a squeeze. They both turned to watch Marti, still talking on her compad. The conversation seemed to take forever, then Marti turned and spoke too quietly for them to hear to the man nearest to her.

"What do we do?" Krysta whispered.

Kaith shrugged, her pretty blonde face as white and strained as Krysta's. They turned back to the court. No one was leaving the stands, but the players were gone and security guards in their bright colored uniforms seemed to have popped up everywhere.

"Kaith."

The sudden voice made both young women jump. They turned to see Marti behind them.

"Kaith, I've spoken to your father, and arranged for security to see you safely to his yacht. You won't be able to see Mercan – the team will leave directly from the dressing room."

Marti turned her attention to Krysta. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name." Marti wasn't sure how much she should say, but Isley had said Daron was serious about this one. "I will arrange security to take you to your yacht too."

Krysta was mortified, but she had to find her voice, didn't she? "Thank you, but I ... but I work here on the space station." Then in a rush of honesty, "Air filtration maintenance."

"Oh dear." Marti could see why Isley said this one was different. "Will you be safe? I mean, you've been very visible sitting here."

"I think so," Krysta said. "At least it should be fine once all the visitors leave. Everyone who lives on the space station knows me."

"If you say so." Doubt was obvious in Marti's voice, but there were things to do. "I'm sorry I can't tell you much about Daron. His limbs are not responsive, but he had a lucid interval and requested treatment on another planet." To say anything more than that was up to Daron when he recovered.

A heavyset security guard approached the group. "I'm to escort a young lady?" he asked. Then, "Oh, Krysta. What are you doing here?"

"Watching the game. Do you think I'll get a rough time, Bill, when I leave?"

"That's a good question. How about you come with us. Then I'll see you to your brother's place."

*****

Chapter 18

If he was going by the manual the Ennup 10 customs officer should have called out 'Next!". He'd been a customs officer for over thirty years though, and he knew every member of the Tamaran Octagla team. For that matter he knew almost every member of the league. So he looked to see who was in queue and yelled 'Ranga!".

Then he turned his attention to Rundell, who was walking away to join those teammates who had already been cleared. He thoughtfully rubbed his grey stubble. It had been a long boring shift, but this was interesting. Rundell had the best shiner he had seen in a good fifteen years. By the way he walked, and by the way he used his injured arm, the black eye was the least of his problems. Rundell hadn't said three words either, and usually he was good for a few of the sort of pleasantries you could pass on to your friends over a beer. Oh well, so much better for the Ennup 10 team. They might make the playoffs after all.

Ranga moved from behind the line painted on the gray plascrete floor and crossed a space of about fifteen meters. The Customs and Immigration of Ennup 10 was a no nonsense military space and they were prepared for the worst. For starters they kept the waiting crowd well back from potential trouble with people they were examining.

Placing his bags on the moving belt that would take them through a scanner, Ranga stepped into a small low walled alcove. There he removed his belt, his compad, his necklace, his cuff, his shoes, and an anklet and put them on a different belt for a different quality of scan. Then Ranga stepped into the portal, stopped, and waited while he was electronically scanned and sniffed for everything Ennup 10 could imagine he might be bringing in that they didn't want brought in. It took a noticeable length of time for the acceptance light to activate. Then he stepped through and stopped on a large X painted on the floor in the center of the room. If the customs officer was familiar with the routine, so was Ranga.

A large mixed breed dog came forward, and as a Ranga spreadeagled himself, he said, "Hello, Cleo."

Cleo however was a professional. He knew when he was on duty and when he was off duty. He was on duty now, adding his expert opinion to the various sensors. He sniffed Ranga's trunk up and down, taking his time. Then at the instruction from the customs officer to drop his arms, Ranga did, and Cleo checked them. Then he circled Ranga to repeat the process from the rear. He wasn't happy though. There was a liniment soaked shoulder bandage and it might be masking something. Cleo rose up on his hind legs for really good smell, planting a paw solidly in the middle of a purple green bone bruise. Ranga flinched but he didn't move or utter a syllable. Satisfied at last, Cleo dropped down and gave the all clear sign. Then finally off-duty he returned to where he could see Ranga and sat down, tail thumping.

"Sorry about that bandage, Cleo" Ranga bent down to pat the dog. "Team medic's orders."

Cleo acknowledged the apology with more tail thumping. They both knew petting broke the rules, but Cleo liked Ranga and Ranga liked Cleo.

Ranga moved to the counter and the customs officer who would now add his expert opinion on Ranga's possessions to that of the scanners. He and Cleo made a good team.

The customs officer said, "I'm sorry, did Cleo hurt you?"

Ranga shrugged, then winced at the motion. "Cleo was doing his job."

A lot of people would be making a big scene right now but the customs officer had never seen Ranga throw his weight around. He was a good kid. Remembering the practiced spread eagle stance, and the stoic calm when Cleo had obviously hurt him, he said sympathetically, "I expect you get a bad time every time you hit Customs and Immigration on account of your dad."

Ranga nodded. "Pretty much. You aren't bad. Gingezel is the worst."

"Really?" the man asked with professional interest. "What do they do?"

"Routine strip search, confiscation of all personal effects, and I have to wear monitoring equipment until I leave," Ranga said matter-of-factly.

"That's barbaric!" the customs officer observed. And they claimed to be the greatest place in the galaxy. He slid all of Ranga's jewelry back to Ranga except for the anklet. This he picked up, running an appreciative finger along the rim.

"Nice workmanship. Where is it from?"

"I picked it up the last time we played at Rujjipet."

The customs officer nodded. Rujjipet had good fabrication plants. He would swear this one was handcrafted though. "Activate it please." There would be a fingerprint ID.

Ranga obediently slid his finger along the same rim, and a blade sprang into his hand. He turned the blade, catching the light. Then returning it to its slot in the anklet, he handed the anklet back to the officer.

"Beautiful action!" The man admired the stylized geometric for another moment, then slid the anklet back to Ranga. Weapons for personal protection were the norm on Ennup 10. "Open your bags please."

He didn't expect to find anything unusual. The scans hadn't shown anything illegal, unless it was theft to take several handfuls of those shampoo and lotion samples portels provided. He and one of the managers of the largest portel on the space station had amused themselves debating this over a beer. They had agreed there was no financial demographic that made sense as to who stocked up at the hotel's expense. But the portel manager said who cared? It was small money. What he hated was when something major like artwork went missing. He swore it did, which had had the entire Customs Office scratching their heads for a week or so, because they had never seen artwork going out. Eventually they decided someone, probably a high-class hooker with an apartment on the space station, had a really classy free art collection.

Ranga dutifully pressed his thumb along the seal and the first bag opened. There was nothing of interest there, or in the second bag. By the time he was examining Ranga's third bag, the customs officer had decided Ranga was one of those packers who lost patience. Some of his stuff was carefully folded, some just jammed in. In this bag there were a lot of handfuls of shampoo samples here and there, some lotion, and some aftershave. He selected a reasonable number at random and opened them while Ranga stood there impassively. They were what he expected. Shampoo, lotion, and aftershave. With a drug lord for his father, the kid wouldn't be dumb enough to traffic or courier. He looked at Ranga's thick mane of curls. "Good brand?"

"My favorite." Ranga said with a shy smile, "I know I should buy it, but I like the little pouches."

The customs officer's well-trained hands continued to search. All usual. Wait a minute... Lined up carefully in a corner were seven apparently unopened packages of men's underwear. That was strange enough to warrant investigation.

"That's another favorite brand," Ranga said following the man's eyes. Anticipating them getting opened like the shampoo, Ranga picked a package up, holding it out. "Cinnit put me onto them. You can only get them on Pendrae so I stocked up."

Professionalism asserted itself. If there was anything more than men's briefs in the package, the one Ranga was holding out would be clean. The customs officer ignored Ranga's offering, studied the packages for a moment and selected one.

It was the one both Ghen and Zloenni would have said was the second most probable selection in this circumstance. The drugs Ranga was smuggling in for Zloenni were in two packages. One set was in Ranga's hand, the other in the least likely pick spot.

The officer opened the package of underwear and removed the shorts expecting to find some extreme styling. What he found was a modest cut brief in what felt like a very comfortable fabric. He automatically held the brief and package down for Cleo to sniff. Cleo agreed. Boring clothes. Before returning them to Ranga, the man took a better look at the label.

"These are that good, eh?"

"Even out in the court they don't bunch up or bite anywhere." Ranga put the drug filled package back in its spot.

"And you can only get them on Pendrae?"

"I suppose they might be somewhere on the hyperweb. I haven't seen them, but I never tried very hard." Ranga shrugged. "I just stock up there." He looked at the man. "You look my size. Why don't you try the ones you opened?"

"Ranga!" The officer mocked severity. "Are you bribing a customs officer?"

Ranga was appalled. He was just trying to distract the man. "Galaxy!" Suddenly he looked his age and totally out of his depth. "Am I?" Now they would really take his luggage apart and examine everything and find the drugs!

The officer laughed. Ranga was a good kid. "Who knows? But thanks. I'll take you up on that." He put the opened package under the counter. You didn't see many imported goods in the stores on Ennup 10. If these were as good as Ranga and Cinnit claimed, he'd pass the word on to his brother-in-law who ran an elite menswear store. He could bring them in, maybe even get one of the Ennup 10 Octagla players to do an endorsement. The customs officer was still chuckling at the look on Ranga's face as he snapped the case shut. Did the kid truly think he was in trouble over a pair of briefs? Well, he supposed to someone with Ghen Kulgalu as a father even a frown from a law officer had you sweating. Poor kid.

That was it? It was over? Ranga swallowed hard. He hadn't just destroyed his and Ghen's lives? Because that was one thing Zloenni had made clear. Get yourself caught, and you are a courier for Ghen, not me. I'll plant whatever it takes to prove it. Trying desperately to act cool and relaxed, Ranga picked up his bag with only slightly shaking hands and walked over to the team.

"Larr! You're next." The custom's officer scanned the line. Four left. The next shift would have to take the last one.

***

When Ranga returned to his room from practice, the two packages of briefs were gone. The trainer had said to get into his tub and soak the shoulder, but Ranga went and curled up in the chair, chewing on his lip. He had to think, to find his way out of this. The acting as a courier, all the rest Zloenni wanted, demanded. His mind shied away from that. All he could see was Daron in that cocoon being floated out of the Octagla court.

*****

Chapter 19

"It's all right, Daron." Trevarr's voice was soft. He had been warned about ten minutes earlier that Daron was regaining consciousness and had left the training session he was putting the soccer team through on the beach. For a marathoner like Trevarr it had been an easy run back to the clinic, and he was hardly sweating. "I'm here."

"Trevarr?" Daron focussed on the familiar handsome blond face. He couldn't think. He tried harder. Yes, that was right, Trevarr, on Gingezel. He became aware of sheets, not wearing his uniform, and tubes. When he looked to the side, banks of hospital things. Hospital. The bastards lied! They brought Trevarr to Pendrae.

"Hospital!"

Daron tried to tear at the tubes, but found his arms restrained. Assuming he could move them. He remembered trying in one lucid interval after the fight and he couldn't move anything. The panic grew.

"Daron!" Trevarr's strong hands shot out pinning his shoulders, restraining him from any motion at all. What the? Daron couldn't be a stranger to hospitals and pain. "You'll hurt yourself."

"This isn't the clinic," Daron said accusingly, the adrenaline clearing his head.

Trevarr started to get alarmed. They'd said Daron had been hysterical, and it was too early yet to be sure of mental function. But if he kept thrashing around he could damage the results of the surgery. It had been touch and go. Coming to Gingezel in stasis had been a bad move.

"Yes it is, Daron. You're just spinny. You got your bell rung. Remember?"

That wasn't important. Daron shrugged that aside. "Hospital," he repeated stubbornly.

"Yes. Hospital. At the clinic, Daron. While they were shipping you we had time to put a habitat on the side to use as a trauma unit. Extend the outpatient surgery set up we have always had." Trevarr hoped he was seeing understanding, but he wouldn't swear to it. "If I could, I'd move you to see the gyms, but you have to trust me for a few days."

Daron wanted to, but he didn't dare.

"No," he said stubbornly.

Now what was he supposed to do, Trevarr wanted to know. If Daron didn't trust him, he wouldn't trust the nurses temporarily staffing the trauma unit. And he certainly would not believe the surgeon who had rebuilt the nerve damage and started the regeneration so that there was a chance he'd walk again – if he behaved. And Daron was getting physically more agitated by the second. Of course! Mai. They were buddies.

"Daron." He tightened his grip. "Can it or I'll put you in full body restraints!" That may not have been a great bedside manner but it got Daron to focus. "Will you trust Mai?"

"Mai?" Mai was here? Surely they wouldn't move Mai too.

"That's right. If I let go will you be still? I'll call her."

Daron relaxed and nodded.

"Mai, I need you."

"Trevarr, is it urgent? I'm nursing."

A baby. That was right. They'd been laying bets on whether or not Trevarr was a good midwife since Mai always insisted on working to the last moment. And as co-owner of the Crescent Bay Sports Medicine Clinic she didn't take maternity leave. She just showed back up at work a few days later with the baby.

Trevarr looked at the visibly relaxing Daron. "Is it urgent?"

"No." Not now. He was on Gingezel. He was safe.

"Take your time. Daron's just come to and he wants to say hello."

"Oh, that's good news. Can he talk to me now?"

"For a moment." Trevarr turned on the communication center at Daron's bedside and positioned it in front of his face.

And he was looking at Mai, as delicate and pretty an Oriental as ever, her dark green blouse undone and the tiniest baby at her tiny breast. "Sorry I can't come Daron, but this little guy," she looked down with affection at the downy head, "can't decide whether he's having a nap or dinner."

Looking up she smiled. "I finally got a boy, so the pressure is off. There is a potential men's Octagla center in the next generation. We called him Torin, after his uncle." Her famous brother could only have daughters, to his intense disappointment. "I just hope this little guy doesn't decide to be a potter, or a landscape gardener, or whatever, or there will be one mighty disappointed uncle."

Daron smiled, too exhausted to talk but reassured by the domestic chatter.

Trevarr said, "Enough, Mai."

"Of course. But one thing Daron."

"Mm?" He was half asleep, relaxed at last, content to drift on the medications.

"I've looked at the recording of that game," she said tartly. "With a move like that you deserved to get your bell rung! I'm sorry you're here, but you asked for it!"

"Thanks a lot, Mai!" Daron yawned. That was Mai all right. Then he remembered. "Trevarr, I meant –"

"Later Daron, you need to sleep."

Yes. Later. He passed out.

Trevarr stood looking at Daron. What exactly did it matter that he was at the clinic? Matter to the extent that Daron had risked stasis with a broken neck and head damage and now he was hysterical about it. Hysteria was not his style, and Trevarr doubted even a concussion induced personality change would be that severe. And more relevantly, he'd been over those recordings of the game with Mai a dozen times. Why the hell had Daron deliberately got his bell rung? Mai had not been teasing. He'd asked for it.

***

"Now really," Nurse Shana said in her best difficult patient manner, "you can't expect Dr. Hendor –"

"He's here," Trevarr announced cheerfully from the door, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his workout sweats. Then he added firmly, "I won't need you now. Take your break." He made a face at the retreating back, then carefully shut the door. "Sorry Daron, but she is a trauma specialist and I was pressed for time. All the same, she's got to try to fit in or she's out. She won't even wear sweats, and she's making the jocks nervy." He was talking too much, but it was an incredible relief that Daron was feeling enough improved to make a fuss.

"Who's here?"

"A Plenata soccer team – I think you know Reno and Len and Maury? Anyways, they've been bugging me about when they can see you."

Daron could have cried with relief. He was coherent enough now to believe he was at the clinic. He recognized various people, and the reassuring Gingezel Security monitoring cuff was on his wrist. Usually he hated the damn monitoring process, but this time he was grateful of the reassurance of normality. And now Trevarr was giving him the lead he needed.

"I'd like that. Trevarr – does that mean I can have visitors?"

"Possibly," Trevarr hedged. "Who do you want?"

Daron looked at the cuff on his wrist.

Trevarr followed the look. "Is that cuff irritating you? We tried to take it off but couldn't figure out how. Tell me, and I'll do it for you now." Daron's other arm was still not responding to stimulus so he wouldn't be able to take it off himself.

Daron grinned. Trevarr was making this easy. "I've no idea how to get the damned thing off. Security probably used a cuff because there were scared to touch my head. Usually I get earrings or a choker." Then at Trevarr's blank look, "I'm on a Criminal Class Visa, Trevarr. This is auditory surveillance." Frowning Daron swore under his breath. Maybe this wouldn't work after all. "Damn it Trevarr! Don't look at me like that. I've always been on one – I'm not suddenly fixing games!"

"I see," Trevarr said carefully. "Or more accurately, I don't see."

"It's the family business. Same problem for Ranga. Ralin Heusgar is working on the reasonable assumption I'll go into import-export when I retire. Just like he assumes Ranga will join Ghen." That was too much talking. He closed his eyes, trying to slow the tremors, trying to think. Ghen ... Ghen ... oh yes ... "Since my family can't come visit me, do you think Ghen could come? Ranga's dad I mean, if he's on Gingezel." Daron knew he was, but he couldn't let on.

"I've got to know him pretty well with Ranga on the team. Only you see," he waved the cuff, "I'm not supposed to go near him with this on. It violates my visa and if we get close a proximity monitor sounds in security." He looked hard at Trevarr. "Only, I know they can bend that because they fixed the surveillance monitors so Ranga and I could train at the clinic together. So," oh Trevarr, get this right, "I thought maybe Mr. Heusgar could come too, since he's a big fan. Make it okay. I mean, it's not that you and Mai aren't nice but it's not quite the same..." He tailed off, the temporary lucidity gone, only anxiety left.

Trevarr stood there watching Daron. He wasn't exactly hysterical this time, but he was tense, sweat drenched, taut as a bowstring, his skin pasty white, those dark eyes boring into his. This had absolutely nothing to do with being totaled and wanting to at least see a friend if you couldn't see family. He wanted to see Ghen Kulgalu and Ralin together. And Ralin, Head of Security for the entire planet, not just any security officer. Daron couldn't have got his bell rung just to see Ghen. That was insane. The hyperweb existed. But Trevarr decided he had better be cautious until he understood what the game was.

"I don't really know where Ralin Heusgar is Daron," he said noncommittally, "but we're neighbors, so I'll pass the message on when I see him.

Daron relaxed. He didn't know if Trevarr understood, but if he said he'd pass on the message, he would.

Trevarr watched the tension leave Daron's face. It was time to test his theory. "By the way, Daron, Mai and I have been going over the recordings again of when you got your bell rung. It looked to us like –" The look of total panic was back, and Daron tried to raise the wrist with the cuff, but he couldn't. He was shaking too hard. Trevarr touched the cuff and nodded. "Like at the last minute Jaik moved into your peripheral vision, starting to crowd you and you lost focus for a moment. Are we right?"

"I – I don't remember." His voice was shaking. He was shaking. Daron couldn't help it. Trevarr had really scared him. He tried to collect himself. "That's the oldest trick in the book though. If that's what happened, I'd better think about retiring my uniform."

You have to anyways, Trevarr thought and kept his mouth shut. At any rate, that insane theory just checked out. And we appeared to have an amnesia game going too. Terrific.

All the same, he did feel sorry for Daron. He was too cocky and difficult to deal with at times, but he was basically all right. And he had to be very scared right now with those injuries and no one able to give him a firm answer on the likely degree of recovery. At least he could reassure Daron on one thing. He sounded like he didn't expect his family to even try to visit, which was pretty rough.

"By the way, Daron, I've talked to your family and they will talk to you when you're stronger. And," Trevarr hoped he was a good liar, "your father truly would come, but he simply can't manage at the moment." Hell, how did you tell a kid his parent was too preoccupied with work to bother, no matter how hurt you were. "But," and Trevarr could be honestly happy about this, "your mother and sister are coming as soon as they can arrange things."

"Are they?" Daron's face lit up. "I didn't think they'd travel without Dad." Then at Trevarr's very polite expression he added, "Trevarr, you aren't picking your way around a family problem. Dad would be on a spaceship already if he could."

"I'm sure he would." Trevarr was polite, neutral.

"Oh Trevarr," Daron sighed. "You're too nice a guy. He isn't too busy with work. They won't give him even a Criminal Class Visa." Trevarr obviously wasn't following. Well, they had all the records here – that's why there was no visa and never would be. So he might as well spell it out.

"Dad's an enforcer for Ghen, Trevarr. He's as good at dodging the law as Ghen, but the list of violent charges they've tried to stick to him and failed to is the length of a planetary number list. No way they'll let him on this planet." Gingezel had very strict criminal control including no access by violent offenders.

"Oh." What the hell did you say to that? One thing was for sure. Ralin had better be free to visit Daron tonight, and Trevarr was starting to hunt him up now, not calling.

*****

Chapter 20

"Hello, Superstud. They say you're up to a short visit from your number one fan." Ralin approached the bed, his bearing military, his face grave. He was a middle-aged man with regular features, blue eyes, and curly blond hair that had darkened over the years. "I'm truly sorry you're here, but that was one hell of a game."

"Did we win? No one has told me and I'm not allowed holovision yet." Daron didn't want to admit he'd only been sleeping and forgot to ask.

Ralin made a face. "No one did. They called the game. When Roban realized you weren't just stunned, he went for Jonagar with the dirtiest butt end to the gut I've seen since Torin used to play. And I thought Roban was a clean player."

Daron smiled. "Mai's been teaching him her family secrets."

"Now, why am I not surprised?" Ralin asked dryly. "Well, that took Jonagar out but good, and to even that score Bralin took a couple vicious swings at Roban with Jaik holding him. That emptied both benches, and by the time they got everyone separated and added up the penalties there wasn't enough manpower left to finish the game. They decided to call off the next game too. They're playing the two games at the end of the season when everyone's calmed down. Roban and Bralin are both suspended for the entire season though."

"I'm sorry," Daron said. "Roban was just getting his old style back."

"He made his own choice," Ralin observed. "Anyways, before I wear you out talking, I think you wanted me to adjust that cuff so you and Ghen could visit?"

"Please." Daron held out his wrist. "And while you're at it, could I possibly shift to a necklace? This cuff is giving me a skin problem."

"It certainly is." Ralin looked at the patch of skin Daron had done his best to rub raw. That took some doing with the smooth surfaces and Daron's other arm immobile. "Let me take that off for you now," he said obligingly.

Daron watched, then once the surveillance unit was removed touched his lips questioningly.

"Yes Daron, it's completely deactivated. What's up?"

Daron looked at his wrist apologetically. "I'd have done a better job if I could feed myself. I could have pushed some food under."

"That'll do as is for an excuse. Now," Ralin repeated sternly, "what's your game?"

"First ..." Daron was suddenly nervous. Ralin wasn't going to like this. "I have to apologize. I broke one of the big rules."

"Like?" Ralin prompted when Daron dried up.

"Like I got myself in trouble and came here to hide."

"Look Daron, they warned me you might be loopy, but you can't be that bad. You came here immobilized in stasis on a medical ship, remember. Not on a yacht or a liner." Then as Daron was just looking at him with obvious exasperation Ralin said slowly, "Or are you trying to tell me you damn near got yourself killed just to visit Ghen?"

"That's right."

"Well, that may sure set a new record for creative, but it doesn't rank high for brains in my books. I assume you had what seemed like a good reason at the time?"

"Yes. It was this," Daron waved his free arm at the room, "or a body bag."

Ralin took this as a professional assessment, if an inexperienced one, not hysterical exaggeration. He said quietly, "All right. Have you anything you need to tell me privately, or should I get Ghen so you don't tire yourself saying things twice?"

"Call Ghen." Daron shut his eyes. He didn't want to do this.

Ralin left, and returned with Ghen and Trevarr. Trevarr shut the door, and leaned on it. "I'm staying. I have to know what Daron's dragged the clinic into."

Ralin and Ghen exchange looks and shrugged.

"Are you all right, Daron?" Ghen asked. He looked terrible, little and vulnerable in the hospital bed stuck full of tubes and connected to dozens of monitors.

Daron didn't open his eyes. "I'm lousy at this."

"Well, given what you've done, I'd guess you were under pressure," Ghen said to ease into the conversation. It would help if Daron would look at him, but his eyes stayed firmly shut. Then Daron opened them and Ghen would swear he was trying not to cry.

Daron tried to keep his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "I'm terribly sorry Ghen. Zloenni has her hooks into Ranga."

Ghen didn't argue. Daron wasn't lying. He noticed, in an abstract sort of way, that he didn't feel surprised. For a moment he turned his head, his hooded eyes almost shut. That was all. Then he pushed his hair off his face and turned back to Daron. "How bad Daron?" His voice was equally matter-of-fact. "Don't wear yourself out, but I'd like the details."

Details. Details were what he was light on. Conjecture he had lots of. "I don't know much, Ghen." Daron made a face of pain and stopped.

Trevarr said, "Daron, I think this can wait."

Daron shook his head stubbornly. "No. No. Just wait." He shut his eyes, willing his head to clear and the tremors to stop. He wasn't sure how long it was, but when he opened his eyes they were still all there.

"Zloenni made a play for me a while back. I gave her the brush off. She didn't like it. I think that's when she tried Ranga. Should have warned him ..." Daron was fading again. He made an effort and refocused. "Then on Pendrae I ran into Cobyn Gadd. He went into a shop Ranga was in. I'd swear it was a drop, but I couldn't find anything in Ranga's stuff. On his body maybe."

He had to make this short. The tremors were back with a vengeance. "Watched him. Roban too. Cobyn was all over the space station. Didn't see him with Ranga." He shut his eyes, and his voice was slurred. "Might have snuck out after curfew ... then at the game. In the box, Zloenni was giving Ranga instructions. Caught me watching. Said Cobyn would take care of me ..." His voice trailed off.

They gave him a few moments, then Trevarr moved from the door to the bedside, checking the monitors, Daron's pulse, his skin.

"He's sound asleep, and it's a natural sleep at last. Maybe he had to get that out to relax." He turned to Ghen. "Was what he said bad?"

"Bad enough." Ghen turned, then stopped at the door. "Tell me when Daron can have real visitors. I won't stress him by mentioning any of this." He owed Daron, owed him a lot. He left, carefully closing the door.

Ralin turned to follow Ghen.

"No way Ralin. Facts."

Ralin stopped. "Maybe."

"Who is Zloenni?"

"Ghen's counterpart."

"His age?"

"More or less."

Just what a father needed when he wanted his son to be what he wasn't. "And this Cobyn?"

"You don't want to know."

"Ralin." There was a warning tone in Trevarr's voice. "Do you want me asking around? I will."

"Let's say Daron made the right choice."

*****

Chapter 21

It was a nasty moment. Daron knew he was hallucinating. They kept telling him how great he was doing, all things considered. But he was disoriented and his head was scrambled to an extent that frightened him. He'd had minor concussions before, but they had been nothing like this. Now there was a very real looking hallucination of Torin standing in the doorway of his room, small, muscular, Oriental. But he was not wearing his Octagla uniform. He was wearing a pair of well washed beige pants and an only slightly newer looking green sweater. Then the hallucination spoke.

"Daron? Are you all right or should I call someone? Mai said you could have visitors but maybe it's too soon."

"Torin?" Daron was sure his voice was shaking. He'd seen the recordings of every game Torin played dozens of times, but he'd never met him.

"That's right. I've come to visit Mai and my little namesake." Torin smiled. "He's a cute little thing, but it's hard to get excited when all he does is sleep, nurse, cry, and need changing. Still, I'd better be excited. Mai is so proud of herself." Daron was visibly relaxing as he spoke. "I know we've never met, Daron, but I simply don't go to Pendrae games anymore, United or the Suns. I got fed up with idiot sportscasters shoving microphones in my face and asking if I was ever going to play again. So I got in the habit of going to a sports bar where everyone knows me planetside."

Torin realized that might have been a little blunt for bed confined Daron, but the reason he was here on the second day of his visit was that Mai had said that the way things were going Daron was never getting on his feet again. And Torin had his own idea of therapy. He approached the bed and thrust out his hand.

"So, I've watched you since you went Galactic Pro. You were good, damned good."

The hand that grasped his was warm, strong, firm. "You're real."

Torin pulled up a chair. "Yup. You figured I wasn't?" he asked bluntly.

Daron didn't answer.

"So how loopy are you? I was pretty bad until the reconstruction and regeneration stabilized."

"I get a bit disoriented."

"You talked to Trevarr about it?" If Daron had thought he wasn't real, Daron was more than a bit disoriented.

"Not yet."

"Well, you should you know." Torin let it drop. "So what have you been up to? One of those beds plus therapy sessions can get pretty boring."

"Not much."

"You watch Tamara's third game with Ennup10? The one last night. They were pathetic! If I was Isley I'd dump Red and that guy from the farm team he put on second string. The only one functioning was Larr." Tamara had completely folded, lost three in a row and cost themselves top seed in the semifinals.

"I haven't seen it yet." Daron couldn't bring himself to watch the team. "I suppose I should."

He didn't sound like he would though. Torin studied the pale, listless face. "I'm wearing you out. I'm visiting Mai for a couple of weeks, so we've got plenty of time to talk. Take care of yourself."

***

"Isley, it's been a long time." There were advantages to being a retired superstar, Torin decided. You did not have to argue your way through a whole tier of flunkies to talk to the man at the top.

"Too long, Torin." Isley's smile was genuine. "How are you keeping?"

"Not bad, not bad. I've got a question for you." Torin didn't want to waste Isley's time. "What are you doing with the layover before you do the rematch with Pendrae United?" The way the schedule was, Tamara was waiting for Pendrae to finish their current set then play one more set of regular games. Tamara was finished early with their loss of three straight to Ennup 10 which was their last set of games of the season.

"Working the butts off some players who seem to have forgotten what that means," Isley said grimly.

"You were pretty bad on Ennup 10," Torin agreed. "You replacing Red and dumping that farm team guy?"

"You coming out of retirement?" Isley smiled.

"Not a chance!" But that gave Torin an idea. First things first though. "How about you do that butt-busting here on Gingezel? It's closer than Tamara and an easier run. Your ships don't have to get as close to the Galactic center. And Trevarr can work his magic on the various bruises and such."

"I thought of that. But with Daron -"

"Daron is why I'm calling," Torin cut in. "I've seen him and he looks lousy. He's not even trying. He's just laying there."

"Don't you think having the team there would make it worse? Rub things in."

Torin shook his head. "Daron is no fool. He knows he's finished." Even if, and it was a big if, he regenerated to where his coordination and reflexes came back, he sounded like he had scrambled his mind but good. You couldn't survive like that in an Octagla court. But Torin wouldn't spell those details out to Isley. That was up to Trevarr and Daron.

"But he doesn't need to lose all of his friends as well as the love of his life." Torin was earnest. "I know that got me through the first couple months. Pretty much every day one of the guys was sitting on the end of my bed talking."

"Bidding on that little list of yours, you mean!" Isley laughed. Torin had had a lot in common with Superstud beyond Octagla. Then he said more seriously, "If Trevarr thinks it's a good idea, we'll do it. Thanks Torin."

*****

Chapter 22

When he had asked her, Mai had thought a pickup game was a great idea, not just as a former pro Octagla player herself but also as co-owner of the Sports Medicine Clinic and therefor partially responsible for Daron's recovery. But then Torin had expected her to. What really mattered was Trevarr's opinion since he had the medical degrees. So they had put jackets on Mai's oldest daughter Meku and little Kimi, bundled Tori in a carrying blanket, and gone for a walk, leaving Mai's husband Rori to the luxury of peace and quiet. The only problem was that Trevarr and Wayd had a place that was definitely not kid proof. For starters they only had one room for entertaining, an elegant adult style room recently redecorated in navy and cream.

"Kimi!" Mai rose in exasperation. "I've told you three times now. Keep that down!"

Kimi, who was watching a cartoon at the far end of the room, took a look at her mother to gauge just how mad she was, then turned the volume down imperceptibly just as she had the other times. Rolling onto her stomach, she focused on the singing flowers, kicking her tiny feet in the air to the rhythm. At two and a half it was looking like she would be about Mai's size, very small.

"All right!" Mai started to rise, but Wayd stopped her, only the slightest frown on his chestnut face.

"Let me give it a try."

Mai hesitated. A scene was coming, and Wayd wouldn't like it. He was wearing his at home uniform of jeans and a sweater and seemed relaxed enough. But every time she looked at Wayd Mai saw the career perfectionist in the formal business suit that was so much more natural to him.

"You haven't done much good," Torin said.

Mai gave her brother a dirty look.

Wayd rose and went to crouch by Kimi, taking the remote from her. "Kimi, you're driving us nuts and you'll wake little Tori." He pointed to the low sculpted couch where Tori was sleeping in a nest of cushions. "I'm going to take this remote and turn the sound down. If you think it's too low you can sit right by the speaker. Right there." He pointed.

"Or, if you don't like that, you can go and paint with Meku." Wayd pointed to where Kimi's older sister Meku was intent on her work, totally oblivious to her surroundings. "I'll let you use my paints like she does." He looked gravely at his little friend. "Is that okay with you, or do you have a problem?"

Kimi looked at Wayd suspiciously. It was kind of like he was laying down the law, only he had asked if it was okay with her. And he didn't look mad or anything. She thought about it. She was kind of tired of holovision anyways, and Wayd had real grown-up paints and brushes. Kimi looked at the low coffee table where her sister was carefully painting a picture of bright red flowers in a pot in the patio greenhouse.

"Can I finish watching this, then paint?" Kimi negotiated.

"Sure. I said you could. Only you will need brushes and paper, so if I'm busy yapping and forget, just come tell me okay?"

"Okay," Kimi agreed.

Wayd rose, remote in hand and turned the sound down to a comfortable level.

Kimi rolled over five times until she was right by the speaker. It wasn't too bad. She started to think about what to paint.

Wayd returned to the table where the adults were seated at the far end of the room and sat down, remote in hand. "There. Where were we?"

Mai, who had thoroughly been expecting to have to apologize for her daughter demanded, "How did you do that?"

Embarrassed, Wayd shrugged.

"Now you know why he's a big time personnel manager for Nemizcan Computing," Trevarr volunteered.

"Thanks, Trevarr." Wayd gave his spouse more of a frown than he had Kimi.

Torin said, "We've just been making small talk while I get my nerve up to try an idea out on you about Daron." He picked up his mug of herbal tea, then put it down again.

Trevarr perked up. "I'm listening. I could stand some ideas, and you've been there." Daron was trying hard to lose before he even started, and there were a number of post surgery and regeneration reasons why mood control medications were a bad idea at the moment. Otherwise Trevarr would be thinking about antidepressants. That, or one hell of a telling off.

"He needs to get out of himself." Torin was watching Trevarr's face. "I know that's stating the obvious, but it matters."

"I'm the last person to argue that," Trevarr said. "But I can't exactly get him working out yet. There is a lot of basic physio before he's at that stage."

"His body, no. His brain, I think so. It might unscramble him a bit to have a focus, not lay there drifting."

Trevarr wondered just what Torin meant by unscramble, but that would wait. He would let Torin get the idea out first because he was obviously nervous.

"So?" Trevarr prompted.

"So I talked to Isley, and the team is en route as soon as you give the okay."

"Great!" Trevarr felt a burden ease. "Thank you so much for that move, Torin."

"I didn't come fishing for praise. Talking to Isley gave me an idea. How about we put together a pickup team to play Tamara and let Daron advise us." He grinned. "They're lousy enough right now we might even win."

Trevarr forgot Daron's problems for a moment. "Us. Do you mean you helping Daron advise, or you in the court?"

"In the court. I have friends I play pickup with. I'll never be what I was, but I have fun. It was real slow coming back from my broken neck, years, but I got there."

"And," Trevarr said slowly, "this would be showing Daron by example, not empty talk." Even if Daron could only play pickup sometime way down the road, it was something he could dream about.

Torin nodded. Trevarr was sharp. "And it will keep him too busy to worry or feel sorry for himself. There would be a lot to think out. I don't even know if we can pull a team together!"

It was obviously giving Torin a lot to think about too. He was really excited. Trevarr looked a question at Mai and got a tolerant smile back.

"Well," Trevarr said, "I'm buying. I never dreamt I'd be in the same court as you, Torin."

"You play with me," Mai said tartly. "What's the difference?"

*****

Chapter 23

"Look who we've got!" Mai's pride showed in her voice as she pointed at the bundle Torin was carrying. "Little Tori."

Daron obediently looked at the little bundle. Now that he tried he could see a very ugly face amongst the blankets. He had never seen this new a baby. Did they all start out like this, and get better as they grew, or had Mai's luck finally run out? Not sure what to say, and too exhausted to manage a lie, he said, "Hello Tori."

That seemed to be all that was required. Mai and Torin beamed at the bundle.

"Want to hold him?" Torin asked, automatically offering the bundle.

Mai intervened, grabbing little Tori. "Not yet, Torin. Daron could drop him with one arm." She returned Tori to her brother.

That actually brought a hint of a smile to Daron's lips. Obviously Mai was more concerned about the baby than him. And he was immensely relieved she had intervened. He had never tried to hold a newborn.

"We came to tell you that you're going to have visitors in a couple days," Mai announced.

"Mom is getting here?" Daron did smile at that. So far he had begged off talking to his family. He had never been good at lying to his mother or father, and he did not want them to know anything unless it came from Ghen.

"No," Mai said matter-of-factly. "The visas are slow." Unlike Trevarr, Mai had never had any illusions about Daron or his family. She had grown up on Pendrae, and some of Zloenni's people, especially that creep Cobyn Gadd had been real pests when her cousin was setting up her restaurant. It had taken Torin and some of his teammates using some muscle to sort things out. As far as she could see, much as she liked Daron, his people were no better. That line of thought brought Mai up short. That dive Daron had taken... She looked at Daron speculatively.

"Don't Mai." Daron had been watching her face. The necklace he now wore was activated, and he touched it.

Mai shrugged. Daron's problems were Daron's problems.

Torin, who had been busy settling little Tori in his arms assumed the exchange was something about some adjustment to Daron's bedding or whatever.

"No. The visitors are your team!" Torin gave Daron the same beaming smile he had given little Tori. He was still very pleased with himself for setting that up.

"Oh." Daron stared at the ceiling.

"Don't go out of your way to sound excited," Mai said.

"I - I'm not sure I'm up to seeing them," Daron said.

Mai gave Torin a very sisterly 'now see what you've done' look.

Torin however was watching Daron. "Crap," he said succinctly. "You're feeling sorry for yourself. And you can quit that any time. When you decided to play center, you knew the risks. So did I. So did Mai. Her luck held. Yours and mine didn't. That's all. So get on with it."

Daron blinked. It wasn't all. But Torin couldn't know. He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Mai watched for a moment, then said, "I guess he just isn't as tough as you are, Torin. Maybe they made a mistake putting him in the Hall of Fame."

This time it was Torin who was staring at his sister. That was just plain cruel. They both knew Daron was a superb center. Mai had a sharp tongue, but she was not usually cruel.

Mai ignored him. "If he'd met someone like that creep you did, Cobyn Gadd, he'd have been afraid and run."

That brought Daron's eyes off the ceiling. "What?" he started to ask, then stopped afraid of talking on record but infinitely curious. What did Torin have to do with Cobyn Gadd?

So that was it. Torin had wondered how Daron had slipped up enough to have taken that hit. But maybe Mai wasn't crazy. Maybe it had been a dive. Torin had no more illusions about Daron than Mai did.

He corrected her. "Oh, I was scared. Anyone in their right mind would be." Torin turned to Daron. "Cobyn was leaning on our cousin that runs the restaurant. He was trying to get a foot in with the athletes for Zloenni. I didn't like either idea. Him muscling my cousin, or the idea of Zloenni looking at the athletes as a drug market. So with a little help from some of the guys we persuaded him it was a really dumb idea." Torin grinned. "That year we had a defenseman only one and a half kilos lighter than Maras and just as mean." Then the smile faded. "All the same, we were all watching our backs for the next year or so." He repeated his formula for life. "But you do what you have to do, and get on with it."

Daron thought about that while he and tough wiry Torin stared at each other. You do what you have to do and get on with it. Maybe. He wasn't sure.

Torin said more gently, "You sure you don't want to have anything to do with the team? Because I've got this really good idea for a little surprise for Isley." His grin was back. "But I'd need your help."

*****

Chapter 24

Chett Linderson, founder and head of CBLV-WhiteCaps computer security services and President of Dellmaice Power, took a look at his bedside alarm. 4:45 AM. The sun wouldn't be up for hours. Smiling, he quietly rolled his long lean frame out of bed. He didn't want to wake Vennbir next door, or that flight crew girl Vennbir had brought back to their condo last night. He'd just have time to get to the lobby and join some of the others on the Crescent Bay pickup team sharing a taxi to the spaceport. Silently he slipped on clothes and ran a brush through his blond hair. He'd skip the shower and shave - too noisy. The result was that instead of looking like an elegant fashion model, he looked like a trendy jaded fashion model.

Chett still could not quite believe he was going to be in this pickup Octagla game. It was not a route he had expected his life to take. Like any little boy in the galaxy he'd grown up dreaming of scoring the winning goal in the Galactic Octagla Championship. With his promise of height that had meant being an outside winger. That was fine. He'd collected holograms of all the great wingers.

Then reality had intruded. Because the game requires weightlessness, to play Octagla you have to have access to an Octagla court. You can't just practice in the driveway, or apartment playground in his case since his family lived in a large complex. His family didn't even have the money to go up and watch a game, although that was one of the prizes in the lotteries his mother liked. Octagla had not been a sport option at his city core school, and neither had it been at his lower end technical college.

Of course, once he was Vice President of Field Operations for Nemizcan Computing and spending a lot of his time on space stations, he had done the tourist thing. He had joined two dozen others and been suited up. Then they had been taken into an Octagla court with the jetpacks at 5% power. That was just enough to gently drift you in and get you back out again.

It had been exactly what he expected; Octagla was a lot harder and more disorienting than it looked. He had shot the half dozen balls given him at the net and missed every time. They had gone careening around the court with a couple teenagers chasing after them. The teens obviously had pro dreams and were getting some extra court time. Chett hadn't minded. The only one who had hit the goal was an athletic thirty something woman who played recreational league hockey. And he had surprised himself by catching five out of six of the gentle passes the pro threw at him. He'd figured that was because he enjoyed racket ball.

Then about two months after Chett had founded CBLV-WhiteCaps his pretty little blonde hacker Brys had come to him all excited. The Anton Band was touring Calixa at the same time they were going to be doing a consulting job there so she and her husband Bojo might actually get some time together.Chett had called Bojo, vocalist and keyboard player Mrail to his fans, to sort schedules out. Bojo had asked if any of them from CBLV-WhiteCaps wanted to join the Anton Band in an Octagla pickup session. He'd said he had already asked Brys to at least suit up and come into the court and give it a try. For once his haggard deformed face had been alight with a smile at the idea of sharing this new passion with Brys.

The idea of playing pickup had become a habit with the Anton Band about three months after Joran was touring as Anton again. Joran had decided there was too much temptation to slip back into the partying drug mode. So he had issued the ultimatum that the band wouldn't stay planetside anymore. They'd do a concert then go straight to the spaceport and stay on the planet's space station. Not that that precluded partying. Big Luis had great parties on space stations. But going off-planet seemed to work for Joran.

The downside was that they'd just all get to the space station still wired and with even less to do than planetside. Then one night someone said 'let's play some pickup Octagla'.

Chett frowned, trying to remember. He thought Bojo had said Big Luis and Larr and Rundell were at that first pickup game. Anyway, the Anton Band had loved it and it had become a habit.

That invitation from Bojo to join them in the court had been the opportunity of a lifetime, and there had been three weeks to prepare. Vennbir had said thanks but no thanks, and Chett had not pushed him. He'd said he'd just lose focus, and that was about right. He was a Psi talent, although he denied it, and tended to be a bit weird.

But his third hacker, Leeth, had been interested. So Chett and Leeth had spent as much of those three weeks as they could with the typical manic CBLV-WhiteCaps schedule taking private lessons from a retired pro who usually did one-on-one coaching for teens who hoped to make it as pros. They had asked Brys to join them, but she had said she was going into the court for a couple minutes to keep Bojo happy, that was all.

Brys had given it try too. She'd suited up and got about two minutes into a court before the combination of a weightless sensation and the cavernous, eight-sided court had given her the worst agoraphobic attack she had ever had. She'd just shut her eyes, gone white, and screamed 'Bojo'! It had taken almost an hour for her to stop shaking.

Chett and Leeth had loved it though, but neither thought they'd ever have another chance to suit up. Then Chett found out that you could put your name on a list with the Courts Manager, and if a pickup game was going on and they needed an extra body, they called you. There was more of that than he thought – second string planetary players looking for extra court time to move up to first string, businessmen whose making a team never worked out but who still loved the game, parents of kids with pro hopes playing while the kid practiced in another court. So he started playing whenever he traveled and he liked it.

Chett smiled ruefully to himself as he walked shoeless into the kitchen. He'd thought he knew everything about being spaceflot, but he wished he'd found out about the pickup Octagla back when he was VP of Field Ops for Nemizcan Computing and constantly travelling. It would have been fun. He rooted in the refrigeration unit and found a protein roll. Roll in hand, Chett slipped into his shoes and headed for the elevator.

***

To Chett's surprise, Leeth wasn't standing there in the lobby, waiting to tell him he was five minutes late. Leeth was there, but he was sitting on one of the overstuffed sueded maroon leather sofas, an arm around Rhea, one of the Genie pilots for Joran. She looked fast asleep on his shoulder. They weren't seated facing the elevator, so Chett delayed a little longer for a good look at Leeth's dark brown and Rhea's blonde head. Leeth did not look like a platonic teammate lending a shoulder in the predawn hours. His face, weather beaten from years of manual labor before he joined CBLV-WhiteCaps, was half buried in Rhea's hair. Well, well. He'd obviously missed something. He'd have to ask Vennbir how long this had been going on.

Suddenly feeling like he was spying, Chett moved into view. "'Morning."

Leeth nodded, his tough face impassive as usual, his brown eyes sleepy.

He did not tend to talk much until eight or so, and Chett had left for spaceports around this time of morning dozens of times with Leeth. Chett didn't try for a further response.

"Do you want to let her sleep while I get a taxi?"

"I'm awake," Rhea said without opening her eyes. "Please do." She wasn't moving a second before she had to.

Chett watched as she snuggled deeper into her quilted pilot's jacket and shifted a bit closer to Leeth. Her close cropped hair looked unbrushed and she did not have a speck of makeup on.

***

"So how's my fellow defenseman?" Chett held out a hand to pull Rhea off the sofa. She was heavier than he expected, and mostly dead weight. Rhea was stocky and obviously sleepier than she admitted.

She smiled and yawned. "I don't know when I've been so nervous. Genie racing never hit me like this stupid game has."

"This is nervous?" Leeth demanded, rising in turn and flexing his half-asleep shoulder.

"Yup. And I'll gain three kilos too. Just wait and see." Rhea yawned again. "When I'm nervous, I hibernate."

"You'd better not hibernate in the court," Chett said with a grin. It wasn't likely. Rhea was one of the most aggressively competitive people he'd met.

"No. I'll just get edgy and screw up and let in the losing goal." She stepped out into the misty spring predawn and shivered.

"That's reassuring," Chett said. "I'll have company on the screwing up."

Chett had not intended to be a defenseman. When the chance to play with Bojo had come up, Chett had said he'd like to play as a winger. Bojo had said sure, they were easy. He'd enjoy it in a self-conscious sort of way because really he was too old, or perhaps still too young, to be living out childhood fantasies. Then when he found out you could be on a call list for pickup games, that was what he'd signed up as. And there were calls, but not as many as he wanted.

After a bit, Chett had decided he was being silly. What he liked was the playing, the mental and physical challenge. He didn't care what he played. So he had talked to the Courts Managers on several different space stations and asked what there was a high demand for on pickup lists. The answer was consistent: defense. Everyone wanted those shots on goal. Well, he had the height and reach, if not the mass, so why not? Chett had shifted to defense, taken another round of lessons, and had ended up turning down games, not waiting for calls.

He'd passed the advice on to Leeth, who saw the sense of it, but didn't have the size for defense. Leeth had done his own talking to Courts Managers and found a position even more in demand: goal. Most pickup games were played on an empty net. So he had decided to play goal, and found working on the complex geometries almost made up for the bruising he took. They had both had custom Octagla suits made up. Chett's was navy blue with sunshine yellow trim. Leeth's was steel grey with glitter black trim.

***

The darkness was softening as they drove through the town wall and headed for the spaceport, but it wasn't bright enough yet to see clearly. Shapes picked out by the headlights were blurred with the mist that wasn't quite a fog. Chett couldn't believe it. He was going to be in an Octagla court with the Galactic champions.

*****

Chapter 25

They'd hit just the littlest snag in working out the idea of distracting Daron by having a pickup game against his old teammates. They'd over succeeded. Consulting on strategy had been more fun than Daron had thought it would be. Now he had an even better idea, he'd coach.

The available conspirators in the pickup game were seated around Trevarr's kitchen table trying to find a way out of that one.

"You're completely sure he can't stand the trip up to the space station?" Torin asked. He didn't really expect the answer to have changed, but he felt obliged to try.

"No. Not for weeks yet," Trevarr said glumly. If ever. It was too early to tell. But he did not want Daron to spiral back into depression by hearing that. "I know he survived the trip here, but he was in stasis, and there wasn't all the reconstruction to worry about. You know as well as I do Torin, it's best to only reconstruct once."

"I know," Torin sighed. "But I had to ask."

Joran looked from one face to the other. Interesting, they weren't seeing the obvious. "So, bring the game to him. Only a small percent of Octagla fans have ever been to a game on a space station, but they see the whole thing."

"Sure, with professional cameramen and a network transmitting it," Torin said.

Joran grinned, the almost mischievous smile lighting the handsome black face the entire galaxy knew as pop superstar Anton.

Trevarr said, "Oh no!"

"Oh yes! Why not?"

"Because I for one am not getting into a court if the game is being broadcast," Trevarr said firmly.

"Only to Daron." Joran pushed his stage length curls out of his face.

"Joran, do you have any idea what that would cost?!" Wayd asked as he put coffee mugs on the table.

"Plus or minus ten percent, I'd bet," Joran said. "I know how big a sports network crew is, and how big one of mine is – bigger by the way – and how much hardware we both ship around. I know the union rates."

It was expensive, sure, but almost nothing compared to the cash flow his part of Gingezel saw every month. Gingezel was really taking off as the ultimate luxury resort planet, and he was glad he had talked his friends in 'the consortium' into collaborating with him to buy it. Owning a planet was great fun as well as a huge responsibility.

"You're serious then?" Torin asked with the beginnings of excitement. It wasn't for real, but he'd be in front of a camera again.

"If Trevarr says yes, that Daron wouldn't get overstimulated."

"There is that," Trevarr said. "But I'd risk that before I dealt again with the kind of depression he was sinking into. I suppose it wouldn't be too bad as long as he knows he's only advising the coach in the box."

"Who is our coach anyways?" Mai asked, reaching for the smallest doughnut. Wayd compromised with health-oriented Trevarr and bought ones from the bakery beside Joran's hotel. Their specialty was doughnuts made out of mixed grains so you could say they had nutritional value. She was ravenous. She'd been cleaning the garden for spring all day since it was her day off and was still in mud-stained pants. "We're all playing."

"We aren't all playing," Joran said as Wayd put a plate of fruit cubes beside the doughnuts in deference to Joran being on a diet for another Anton tour. Joran ignored them and reached for a second chocolate doughnut.

As everyone's eyes rose to his face, Wayd said, "No way! I'd be useless. I don't even know the rules."

"Everyone knows Octagla rules," Joran protested. "And you are calm and organized and used to running things." Wayd was planet hub manager for Nemizcan Computing which meant he handled the hyperweb for the planet and the business software for most of it.

"No they don't," Trevarr said in disgust. Wayd rarely watched a game to completion, although now that he knew the Tamara team he caught the post game show. Usually he sat and watched ten minutes or so of the first period, then went and got his paints out.

Wayd sat down and helped himself to a fruit cube he didn't want. But he'd gone to the trouble of cutting them, so he might as well eat them. The way the doughnuts were going there wouldn't be enough, and he didn't have anything comparable in the cater unit. So he'd be the polite host and eat what the guests weren't eating. He met Trevarr's amused eyes, and pointedly passed the plate to him.

"What we need," Mai said, "is an Octagla nut who doesn't play."

They all thought about that as they finished their doughnuts.

"How about Mitra?" Arn, one of Joran's Genie pilots, asked. It was his first contribution to proceedings unless reducing the doughnut supply counted.

Arn was a tall nordic blond whose face was almost as well known as Joran's from the days when he was one of the top Genie spaceship racer pilots. Ever since his off and on girlfriend Kim, another racer from the good old days before the Genie race circuit was regulated, had started piloting for Mitra she'd talked about her employer steadily. So Arn felt qualified to comment.

"Great idea!" Joran said. "I wish I'd thought of it."

Torin looked around the rest of the table. Mai looked undecided, so did Trevarr. "Who is Mitra?" he asked.

"Dreen Pendi's wife," Mai informed her brother. "You've seen them together walking around town. They're on holidays visiting Joran." Dreen was owner and CEO of Nemizcan Computing and therefore Wayd's boss. He was also Joran's best friend since university days.

"You want us to have a woman coach?" Torin demanded of Arn.

"Why not?" Mai demanded, swinging instantly to a pro-Mitra stance. "You'll have a woman center."

"Unless I take all the shifts, Sis." Torin teased.

"She'd be good," Joran said. He started counting off her virtues on his fingers. "Mitra's an Octagla fanatic – she watches all the games. She's smart – an engineer," he added for Torin's benefit. "She's used to managing a crew. She won't get all flustered if things start happening fast and Daron freaks out and she's on her own." He tapped a fourth finger. "And she's gorgeous so Daron won't mind working with her at all." There was just a hint of the old longing in his voice. The fact Mitra had married his best friend didn't mean he had totally changed the way he felt.

"Okay, I'm sold." Torin reached for fruit this time, much to Wayd's relief. He'd been objecting just to get his sister upset anyway.

"At the risk of being a spoilsport," Wayd said, "isn't that a major conflict of interest if Dreen is going to be chief referee?"

They had decided that earlier. Dreen would be levelheaded, fair, and not miss much. He had a solid sports background as a university level soccer player. Being referee let him be part of things. Since he'd only suited up once to try throwing an Octagla ball when the Anton crowd was on the Tranus space station, he would be useless on the team.

"You want the job after all?" Arn asked laconically.

"No." Wayd was firm.

"Then stay out of it," Trevarr advised his mate. "It isn't like it will be more than a pickup game. And I can see advantages to the idea of Mitra as coach. She'll stop Daron from being too intense."

"Suit yourself. I like Mitra." Wayd looked at the three remaining doughnuts and wondered if he dared have one. He settled for a sip of coffee. "But since my role tonight seems to be the spoilsport, where are you going to get the money for a sports crew?"

"Either the consortium will split the cost, or I'll cover it," Joran said casually as he speared a fruit cube and felt very virtuous about his diet. "We've tried to talk Marti into moving Tamara here, but she said there'd be riots on Tamara." Marti was a member of the consortium. The others were financier Jorgus Brenya, mega developer Nevin Penell, and roboticist Bruce Oonlo, Mercan's dad. "Maybe this will focus everyone and we can buy one of the bottom teams or get the league to sell us an expansion franchise. Gingezel needs an Octagla team." Joran grinned. "And we can make Marti furious and steal Mercan."

*****

Chapter 26

"Anton." Liranz was all professional smiles. A dark-haired stocky man in his late fifties, he had the sort of polish that only comes from time spent in the best spas trying to lose the weight gained eating in the best restaurants. "I think the message was that you want a camera crew?"

That message had not made sense to Liranz, because ever since AntonCorp had expanded from only promoting Anton to having more than a dozen of the top recording artists in the galaxy, they had been using their own holovision crew and the networks picked up their feed. But maybe something had come up that meant a timing conflict. As far as he knew their crew had three concerts for Kit, and two for LetUs in the next couple weeks. If Anton had made one of his impulse decisions to go onstage, they might need a bailout. He rather wished he had not been on another call when Anton called. The man hated waiting.

"Does this mean you've decided on a concert in the near future?" They could stand that. Kit drew an audience, but nothing like Anton. "We can always find space for you."

"No such luck," Joran said with a smile. For a media type Liranz was all right. They had dealt with each other for years. "But do you want names of some young talent that's worth giving prime time to?"

"Always. Is this charity or does it cost?"

That wasn't a bad idea as leverage. "It costs a favor."

"So try me out."

"That holovision crew. I don't know who to ask around your place for it. Help me out and I'll give you the names." He would have anyways, but Liranz didn't need to know that.

"So what do you need?" Liranz was getting very curious.

"A good Octagla crew from your sports department, for three nights from now."

"An Octagla crew?" Liranz hadn't seen that coming at all. "Anton, there are the regulation games until playoffs, then the two makeup games between Tamara and Pendrae. The crews will be booked! What do you need an Octagla crew for all of a sudden?"

"It's Superstud. I assume you follow Octagla enough to know he's on Gingezel recovering from that broken neck?"

Liranz nodded, his curiosity increasing. Other than the fact Superstud had been shipped to Gingezel, there had been a total clampdown on news. With luck Anton would let something slip. Liranz wished he dared let the Sports Manager hear whatever was coming next, or failing that that he dared record it. But Anton really had a temper, and if he did either, their network would probably never broadcast another AntonCorp concert.

"Well, Tamara is coming to spend the wait to the makeup games on Gingezel. Visit Superstud and see what Trevarr can do for the bruises and such."

Now that was news. The press release said that they were headed back to Tamara, the opposite side of the galactic core from Gingezel. Still Liranz didn't let his surprise show. Presumably Anton knew what he was talking about.

Joran continued, "Superstud is kind of depressed, and some of us were sitting around talking. We thought a pickup game might cheer him up. You know, a few of us locals pull together a pickup team and play his old teammates. Get Superstud busy telling us enough tricks to use that we have a chance to not look like total idiots, that sort of thing.

"Superstud has really got into it. That's why we need an Octagla crew. He wants to coach the pickup team. But he can't travel up to the space station. So I said I'd pull a few strings and we would get a holovision crew for him." Joran looked at Liranz expectantly.

Liranz was thinking fast. Handled the right way this event could draw the whole galaxy watching. The injured Superstud coaching a team against the galactic champions Tamara. He said, "It's not my turf, Anton, but give me twenty minutes to try to fly it."

His eyes narrowed speculatively, and for a moment the shrewd businessman he was showed. "Are you one of the locals?" He didn't think Anton was the sports type it all, but the phrasing had him wondering.

"Outer left wing," Joran said with pride.

"I'm impressed." Liranz was too. He couldn't imagine braving an Octagla court. "When did you start playing?"

Joran thought about that. "I guess it was a couple years ago now. When we're touring we rent a court and play pickup to unwind."

This was getting more and more interesting. Liranz was wondering just how much he dared to snoop, but Anton saved him the trouble. Octagla was obviously his new passion.

"We don't really have anyone small enough to be a good center, so we take turns. Johnny Sun likes to play inside right, and Mrail likes right defense. Rhea plays left defense." Joran grinned. "You should see her. She's really getting into this and she takes lessons from Maras."

Normally Liranz had a pat answer for every situation, but the visual of Rhea and Maras working out together left him speechless.

Joran chuckled. "It's a sight, I assure you. Eli plays inside left, and Jon outside right, so we pretty much have a team. Timoth plays goal." Timoth, the AntonCorp senior SoundMaster, had declared himself to be expendable. "Paulo, Des, Ico, and Bernie sub where needed."

There was no way he would remember all of that Liranz decided. Anton had rattled it off too fast. He mentally kicked himself for not taking the risk of recording the conversation. Hoping to get more gossip, he said, "Too bad you won't have that caliber locally, or are there some good players in Crescent Bay?" There could well be. Octagla was a rich man's sport and Crescent Bay was the rich man's haven.

"Oh, we're all here," Joran assured him. "We just have to roundup a few locals to fill in the gaps." He was rather enjoying the conversation. He hadn't expected to get so much of Liranz's time, or for him to be so interested. He had expected a fast handoff. "In fact, we are going to put a retired pro in for center. Mai Chakkar was the center for the Pendrae Nebula. That will really help us out. Mai is good. Her brother Torin will do a few shifts, but he says he's not sure how much he's up to."

Torin? Pendrae? Was it possible? "Are we talking the Hall of Famer?"

Joran acknowledged that with a negligent nod and continued with his team description. "We're waiting to talk to him when he gets here, but we'll try to convince Roban to side with us. And Trevarr who runs the Sports Medicine Clinic will be our utility player." Joran had almost mentioned Ghen Kulgalu but that probably wasn't a good idea. He wasn't sure about Ghen playing, but what could he do? Ghen had asked to play and when would he ever have another chance to suit up against his son's team?

"It sounds like you'll give Tamara a good run." Liranz had his professional smile back. This was incredible! What a game it would be. "If you give me the name of those young artists, I'll do what I can. It could take twenty minutes or so, so I'll call you back."

***

It was more like fifteen minutes when the call came through and Liranz was smiling. "I think it's on, Anton. It will take a bit of juggling, but you let us show this as an exclusive special, and we'll get the crew there."

Joran had been returning the smile. Now he frowned. "What's this special stuff? I didn't say anything thing like that. I said hire a crew."

"Come on, Anton. Look at the Octagla schedule. The only way we can get a team there in time is to put the crew covering the game tonight on a Genie the minute the game is over. And we'll have to get replacements for them for the next game. We've got to get something out of this."

"You will. It's called money."

Liranz shrugged an apology. "Sorry Anton, but like I said this isn't my turf. That's the deal I was told to offer you." It had been his idea though, and everyone had loved it. The top pop stars versus the likely Octagla champions, assuming of course they could win the rematch with Pendrae United. The angle that Superstud was coaching from a hospital bed. What ratings! The finals probably wouldn't draw the same audience. Liranz figured Anton would fuss, but not much. He was intrinsically a ham. He loved a camera, any camera.

Joran stared, feeling the beginnings of an icy fury. This was for Daron. It wasn't some bloody media event. The poor guy was in a hospital bed. Didn't Liranz have a heart?

"You aren't the only bloody network with Octagla crews! I'm sure I won't have any trouble finding someone cooperative since I'll be bringing that damned concert contract with me. And don't think I won't either!"

"Anton, be reasonable." But Liranz was talking to empty space. Damn! Anton was capable of breaking the contract too.

*****

Chapter 27

The three men in the hallway were glum. They'd tried, or more accurately Joran had tried. He'd tried every last network, and they all wanted to cover the game all right, as a special.

Then he'd called his own crew who were in the middle of broadcasting one of Kit's concerts. Anni had taken the call. She was a brisk, capable woman of thirty or so. Her makeup tended to the dramatic and this week her hair was blonde. She had decided two months into her job that the only way to survive was simply to agree with Joran, and if he was asking the impossible hope he forgot about it. So her response had been straightforward. "You want us now, or can we finish the concert?"

With the first smile on his face in quite some time, Joran had said to finish the concert, but to call him in the first commercial break. He liked Anni's plucky, do anything attitude.

By the time they called back the crew had compared notes. Not a one of them had any sports experience. So they said they'd try, but it wouldn't be their fault if Superstud ended up with a migraine or worse. Joran had been delighted. He'd thought he had an acceptable solution. Trevarr hadn't being at all happy though. He didn't want Daron mentally or visually disoriented at this stage of his recovery.

So now they had to break the news. They were even missing part of a crucial interplanetary level soccer game between Surana and Calixa to do it. As they approached Daron's room, Joran and Torin hung back. They had agreed that Trevarr should see what kind of mood Daron was in, and if necessary they would all come back later.

As Trevarr looked through the open doorway, he saw two additional men, not just the patient as he had expected. All were intent on the soccer game. One was a medium height man of roughly Daron's age, with solid shoulders, no neck, and heavily developed thighs and calves. He had nondescript coloring, and Trevarr expected he would have had light brown hair, but he wore it shaved, in the style of southern hemisphere of Rujjipet, where he was from. He had on a very washed out pair of sweats, and was sprawled in one of the visitor chairs with his feet up on another. This was Knett, Daron's new day nurse, a trauma specialist. He obviously had his own idea of monitoring the patient. Given Daron's nerves about 'hospital', Trevarr approved.

'Nurse', as Trevarr had called her since she insisted on calling Daron 'the patient' had departed that morning with what Trevarr had suspected was mutual relief. Knett had fit in immediately. When Trevarr had shown him around the clinic the night before he'd been quiet and observant. At the end of it, he only had one question, was the equipment exclusively for the use of the clients, or could he use the weight room and sauna or whirlpool to relax after his shift? Then he'd ask a series of questions about how Superstud was taking things, nodded a few times as he heard the story, and said he'd keep things nice and easy, not to worry. Seeing Knett sprawled in the chair, Trevarr stopped worrying.

The other man was Reno, from the Plenata Windridge Galactic Tier 2 soccer team. He was about three years younger than Daron, dark, wiry, and intense. Assuming his luck held on injuries, which wasn't likely with his playing style, Reno had a good career ahead of him and could go Galactic Tier 1. He had great coordination, stamina, and some of the best legs Trevarr had seen.

Before Trevarr could speak, Knett was casually moving his legs from the chair, flexing his shoulders, and standing. "Expect I should go look busy first day on the job," he announced in an easy voice. Neither Daron nor Reno took their eyes off the game. Knett gave Trevarr a slight nod then continued, "Anyone want a drink while I'm up?"

"Beer if you have it," Reno said.

"No problem. I'll get some from the sports facility. Daron?"

"The same."

Daron was watching the game, and there was the first trace of the old cocky smile Trevarr had seen since he had arrived.

"One beer, one electrolyte-laced fruit blend," Knett said cheerfully.

That got Daron's eyes off the game for a fraction of a second. "You bring that stuff and I'll pour it on the floor."

"Why?" Knett was unperturbed.

"Have you tasted it?"

"Yes. It won't win any awards from me, but I pack it sometimes when I'm hiking."

"Well, I think it's lousy." There was an edge to Daron's voice. He couldn't stand another glass of the stuff.

"No problem. We all like different things." Knett thought for a moment. "You like Mokruil Lite? It's low enough alcohol it won't hurt you, and it's loaded with B complexes, but it isn't everyone's taste."

"It's beer?" There was a break in the play and Daron focused on Knett.

"From Rujjipet. I'm used to it, but it may be darker and stronger flavored than you like."

"When did it show up on the cater list?" Reno demanded.

"You like it?" Knett rewarded him with a smile.

"My favorite post-game cool-down. Haven't seen it here though."

"That was a deficiency I corrected this morning for my own after-work relaxation," Knett told him.

"Then make mine a Mokruil Lite."

"Daron?"

"It can't be worse than the fruit blend."

"It isn't." And it would mask the additions well. "Two Lites then."

Knett hesitated. He didn't want to keep Trevarr waiting, but there was a break in the play while the team captain was pushing his luck arguing with the referee. And Daron was actually talking. There was something on Daron's file he didn't like. Daron wasn't eating enough, and Octagla centers kept themselves without an extra gram of fat. Daron didn't have any weight to lose.

"You at the stage where none of your favorites taste good?" He'd noticed that Daron had been having fruit blends steady, so it must normally be a favorite. "That can happen."

"I wouldn't know," Daron said, sure he sounded petty. "I haven't seen them."

Oh oh. 'Nurse' as Trevarr referred to his predecessor strikes again. That was needless too. These athletes took care of their bodies and knew exactly what worked for them. Daron might have a few comfort foods he knew weren't good for him, but ninety percent of his diet would be healthy, and right now Knett wasn't about to question comfort foods for his patient either if they went down.

"Well, you're under new management, and you eat what you like. Who needs to be sick and have to force stuff down." Daron was back studying the set of the referee's shoulders like they were the only thing in the galaxy. Obviously using the word 'sick' was a mistake, Knett decided. Well, he'd try another angle. "What would you have with a beer after a game?"

Without thinking Daron said automatically, "Meat rolls, pretzels, then a spice bun with purple cloudberries."

Knett translated. Protein plus fat in the meat rolls. That would hold down blood sugar swings on the rest. Pretzels. Carbohydrates and lots of salt. Daron would have been putting out energy like you wouldn't believe in a game and sweating like crazy. Besides, pretzels went with beer. The spice bun bordered between comfort food and more useful carbohydrates to rebuild energy, and the strong flavor worked when you'd been weightless and your sense of taste was diminished. He'd just make sure this one was mixed whole-grain with protein supplements. Purple cloudberries were loaded with all the good fruit things, and topped the potassium list. Oh, Daron knew his nutrition all right, whether he had studied it or it was instinct.

"One tray of meat rolls, pretzels, a spice bun, and cloudberries coming up."

Daron blinked, keeping his eyes firmly on the soccer game because he was sure they were bright with tears. "You mean I can have it?" He'd been sure he was stuck on hospital food for the indefinite future and had been trying to tough it out.

Knett was watching the drawn face. "I said so, didn't I?" he asked gruffly. 'Nurse' must have been a real bitch.

***

As Knett expected, Trevarr was just out of sight, leaning on the wall. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"I'm the one who should apologize to you and Daron. I slipped up there. I'd assumed he was eating what he wanted – had full access to our menu." Trevarr echoed Knett's assessment. "The little guys like him don't have eating problems – they don't let themselves."

"Well, it's sorted out now. What did you want me for?"

"How's Daron's mood?"

Knett shrugged. "I've seen better – and worse."

"Has he told you about the pickup Octagla game?" They were moving down the hall as they spoke.

That brought a smile to Knett's face. "He's really looking forward to that. He told Reno and me all about it during the pregame show."

"Well," Trevarr was trying to sound factual, "it may be off. We –" he waved towards Joran and Torin, "hit a snag."

Knett heard him, but only half. He was trying not to stare at the two figures slumped morosely in chairs in the alcove. He'd swear they were Anton and Torin. Daron had rattled off a lot of first names that obviously meant something to him and Reno, but they had gone right past Knett. Now he was wondering if Anton and Torin were in this pickup game. Quite probably Torin was. He must be 'Mai's brother'.

"These are just people who live here, Knett," Trevarr chided gently.

"Sorry, I'm not used to Crescent Bay yet." Knett smiled. "I promise you. I won't embarrass you asking for autographs."

Trevarr returned the smile. Knett was all right. "Joran would probably like it. Torin wouldn't."

Joran. So Anton was called Joran and he was a left winger. Torin was Mai's brother. It could be interesting to find out who the other players were.

*****

Chapter 28

"So, you see, I tried," Joran said in a tone of total disgust. "But no one was buying." He looked at Trevarr. "I suppose I'd better be the one to break the bad news since I'm the one letting him down, but I'm not looking forward to it."

"Does it have to be that way?" Knett asked, making everyone jump. After he'd told them how Daron was doing, they had assumed he was out of the conversation as they rehashed their dilemma.

"Believe me," Joran said, "there aren't any more networks. I even put my secretary to work on planetary ones. They were worse – saw this as their chance to go big time."

"Well ..." Knett squared his shoulders. "I'll risk getting fired on my first day, but the lot of you are acting in loco parentis. I know Daron is sick –"

"He gets disoriented," Torin said bluntly. "When he saw me, he thought he was hallucinating. So probably he has been."

"I thought I was too," Knett said. "You aren't exactly real, you know – you've moved into the legend category." That got him an uncomfortable grunt from Torin and a head shake from Trevarr. Tough. They'd brought him in because Daron wasn't responding well to treatment. Knett knew his good reputation with difficult patients was because he stood up for them. "Okay. So say he is a little unhinged – weren't you for a while?"

"All right, Knett," Trevarr said repressively.

"No. I honestly want to know. I thought it's pretty normal, and I assume Torin had problems. I also assume he worked through them – with or without help – since he's here."

"There were a few rough times," Torin admitted.

"And you're tough and got past them. Well, Daron's tough too. Why not let him decide if he's up to the media circus? It would scare me dysfunctional on my best day, but he lives with it. He might love it. Just spell it out – he gets disoriented and we pull the plug and he hears about the game the next day. I'll be with him and watching."

There was obvious hesitation. Knett gave it one more try. "Trevarr. Give me a one-word description of Daron before the accident."

There was no hesitation in his answer. "Cocky."

"Well. He isn't now. He's lost so much control he's close to snapping. He almost cried because he could have a beer. Give him some control back."

They shifted in their seats uncomfortably. To Torin this talk put him back in the first month he was in the hospital after reconstruction, a time he had blocked from his memory.

As far as Joran was concerned, what Knett was saying was too blunt a reminder of the bad days when he'd been on drugs and Ghen had threatened to have him locked up and throw away the keys. He said, "I want to side with you Knett, but all they're going to talk about is his being hurt. He doesn't need that – I know from when I did drugs."

Knett shrugged. "Every other pre-game show talks about it anyways. Spell that out too – give him a choice and let him decide."

***

Daron took his time thinking about what Joran had said, and not said. At the moment thinking wasn't one of his strong points. He wasn't sure anything was one of his strong points. He thought about it hard enough he missed the crucial pass leading to a goal and had to catch it on a replay. He thought about it while he sipped the beer and ate a sausage roll that had never tasted so good. The beer tasted off though, and he suspected Knett had laced it. So while they were setting up the next play he asked Reno for a sip of his. It tasted the same, so he decided it was him.

During a timeout he turned to Knett who was sprawled in the chair again, working on his own beer and pretzels.

"Knett."

"Mmm?" Knett took another token sip of beer. It was very low alcohol, but he was working and he didn't intend to finish a quarter of the bottle.

"You talked them into this, didn't you? They were going to cancel the game."

Knett helped himself to a meat roll from Reno's plate. "You expect me to answer that?"

"That's my roll," Reno objected.

"You're in training, I'm not. You don't need the calories."

"Wrong. Trevarr is trying to kill us. Why didn't you get your own?"

"I wasn't hungry then."

"Knett, you show all of the signs of being a real pest," Reno said in a tone implying the highest compliment was being bestowed. "Do you think Trevarr will keep you?"

"Hope so. That weight room is really something."

"Knett," Daron persisted, "you told them I could handle this. Do you really think so?"

"Hold it right there, Superstud. I did no such thing. What I told them was that you had a right to decide for yourself. I have no idea what you'll decide. That's up to you. And there are no points for a right answer. It's like the juice or the beer. Some people like one, someone other."

"I don't like either. I thought maybe you'd laced the beer, but I guess some things just taste funny now."

"I did lace the beer, but I tested it. It tasted the same. Reno and I warned you it was an acquired taste."

"Told you he has the makings of a real hazard," Reno said with a grin on his lean dark face.

Daron thought until the next break in the play.

"Knett ..."

Knett turned to Reno. "All that beer must be hitting you. There's a men's toilet that way down the hall."

"Sure." Reno stood up. "Let me know when you want me back, or should I finish watching the game in the gym? You getting tired, Daron?"

"A little," Daron conceded.

"Then I'll see you sometime tomorrow." Reno left, closing the door.

"He's a nice guy," Knett observed. "Known him long?"

"A couple years now. I met him when I was dating his sister."

"You still seeing his sister?"

Daron shook his head. "Reno says she's engaged now. I haven't seen her for a while." He yawned and shut his eyes.

"I should go too. You're tired."

"Not yet. I won't sleep. Knett ..." Daron hesitated.

"I'm waiting."

"If I say go ahead, will you stay here and keep an eye on me?" He trusted Knett. "I ... I could get involved."

"Sure. I'll be here, and I know how to turn a communication center off." Knett kept it light, trying to not push Daron one way or the other. "You thinking of trying it then?"

"Yes."

"All right. One thing though. Promise me if you get disoriented in any way you'll say so. Monitors may not pick it up."

"I'm fine," Daron said stubbornly.

"Good, but it will be a lot of stimulation. I'm just trying to cover all the eventualities. Now, you need to sleep. I'll pass your message on."

"No. I have to talk to Joran. I'll keep it short."

"He left, remember? Trevarr is here though."

"Position the communications center. I'll call Joran – I know how to get access."

Daron placed the call.

"Superstud. How goes it?" Daron looked exhausted to Joran.

"I'm tired, but count me in. Can you do two things though?"

"If I can."

"Hit the networks for every credit this is worth and then some."

Joran grinned. "That's an easy one. I'm good at that. What do you want the money for, not that it's my business."

"Kids who got wrecked like me, but have no money to do stuff. There has to be some charity."

"Sure." Joran was suddenly brusque to hide the lump in his throat. "What's number two?"

"Hidi does the color commentary, and she does it from here. They can dump Candy for once."

Joran laughed. "Devious. You are recovering! Now get some rest." He disconnected.

Knett wanted to ask who Hidi was, but Daron was already asleep.

*****

Chapter 29

"Uncle Torin." Kimi paused in the doorway of her uncle's bedroom, the room Rori called his home office. But all of her dad's things had been put in the cupboards, and the furniture had been moved around. A bed she hadn't see since her aunt visited had folded down from the wall. All the changes made the room feel strange and unfamiliar. Kimi wasn't sure she liked it.

Torin didn't hear her. He was stretched out in the bed thinking. It was going to happen then. Joran had just called. There was a deal with the network. The game was going ahead. He would be in front of the camera again.

Torin had sworn that would never happen. At first he had thought he would never be able to play again. He'd had something to prove to himself though, so he kept at it and kept at it. He could play, not the way he used to, and not a whole game. But he could play. But he had never been going to come out of retirement. To him athletes that retired and came back several times just made fools of themselves. But this wasn't really coming out of retirement. It was just one night.

So he might as well enjoy that night, mightn't he? Ever since he had suggested the pickup game to Daron, a fantasy had been growing in his mind. His dream team. Well, not exactly a team. The dream line he'd love to play on. It had started with Roban. How many times had he watched Roban and wished there had been an inside left winger like that when he played? Just to be in the same court as Roban. What an honor! He mentally saw Roban playing, imagined them, his dream line, pressing into to the opponent's end. Into the Tamara end.

Kimi looked at her uncle suspiciously. Was he just laying there pretending to be asleep so that when she got close he could tickle her? He liked to do that. Kimi couldn't see any sign he was watching her though. His eyes were not open at all. She edged closer, stopping just out of reach.

"Uncle Torin!" She was supposed to tell him supper was almost ready.

Torin turned his head. "Oh, hello Kimi." He hospitably moved over a bit. "Come on."

Forgetting her reservations Kimi climbed on the bed and sat cross-legged.

"What 'cha doing?" It was a funny time for a nap, but grown-ups did funny things sometimes.

"Thinking about Octagla."

Kimi could relate to that. She thought about Octagla a lot. She was going to be a defenseman like Maras. "What?"

"About an old friend of mine who used to be a roof runner. I'm going to call him." His arm snaked out, grabbing Kimi. "Gotcha!"

*****

Chapter 30

This time there was a light on across the hall as Chett rose out of bed at 4:45 AM. He padded across on bare feet.

"Hi Vennbir, been up all night?"

Chett got a bleary-eyed yawn as an answer. He didn't try to look at what Vennbir was doing. He wasn't this dedicated computing for CBLV-WhiteCaps, only hacking.

"More or less behave yourself, okay?" They both knew that meant don't do anything CBLV-WhiteCaps could be held liable for.

"Chett, why are you practicing at this hour again anyways?" Vennbir's dark hair was tangled and his dreamy eyes were not quite here. They looked huge in his pale face.

"To not look like total idiots on holovision," Chett said over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen and stopped at the cater unit. He touched the panel for a muffin.

"Holovision?" Vennbir's eyes lost their unfocused look and he followed Chett into the kitchen.

"As is frequently the case, one of Joran's bright ideas went astray. When Trevarr laid down the law that Daron could under no circumstances go to the space station much less go up to coach – hell, the guy spends most of his day in bed – Joran decided to call the networks for a holovision crew." Chett shrugged and removed his steaming muffin from the cater unit. "Our little pickup game is now a Galactic Special to be carried not by one, but by all the networks. No doubt the serious promotion will start today."

"You are getting in an Octagla court with Tamara with the game broadcast all over like that?" Vennbir got himself cold cereal.

"Tamara is okay," Chett said as he spread jam on the muffin. "They're good guys as a whole, and since this is just pick up they will probably try to not embarrass us on purpose." Chett made a face. "The problem is we can embarrass ourselves just fine on our own. I honestly don't think Joran cares. After all, it wouldn't be the first time he's made an idiot of himself in front of the whole galaxy. But the rest of us do care. We know people will make allowances for our being amateurs, but we want to try to make a decent showing."

There was a pause while Chett took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. "We worked it out. We can get three more practices in before the game is broadcast tomorrow night. One this morning, one tonight when we are all through work, and one tomorrow morning."

"So who all is playing besides you and Joran and Leeth and Rhea?"

"Well, the networks are definitely getting lots of celebrities to promote. For people who like music, in addition to Joran we've got Bojo," and Bojo's solo career performing as Mrail had really taken off. "Johnny Sun is in town, and quite probably Kit will show. We both know Kori can't even throw an Octagla ball, and her grandfather Uth says this could get too rough for him." Chett was working through the members of the AntonBand. "But Larry, and Ico, and Des, and Paulo are in. And besides Rhea there are Jon and Arn for those who still fantasize over the good old days of the Genie racing circuit. With luck, or some creative flying, Eli will be here too.

"And Daron is lining up all the pros he can. Remember, Mai used to play center for the Pendrae Nebula. And," Chett paused dramatically, "her brother Torin is in town checking out his new nephew. He's suiting up."

"Does Tamara know that?" Vennbir asked.

"No, and don't help any gossip spread. The networks are sworn to secrecy on that until game time. He's our secret weapon. And I think Roban might suit up on our side. They are getting here later this morning and Daron is going to sound that out with Roban and Coach Isley as soon as they land."

"Sounds good." Vennbir yawned and wandered out. Time to get some sleep.

***

If anything, Rhea was sounder asleep on Leeth's shoulder than the other morning.

"Come on, up and at 'em."

Chett and Leeth helped her stagger to the taxi where she promptly settled onto Leeth's shoulder again.

Before Rhea could fall back asleep, Chett asked, "So have you heard whether or not our lineup is firming up?" Rhea always seemed to know what was going on. Chett had no idea who her sources were, or how she found so much time to gossip. All she said was she kept in touch with a few pilot friends.

She didn't open her eyes. "Kit is on the space station and will be at practice. He decided that since his between concert practice schedule was disrupted by Joran pulling his holovision crew he might as well come back with them. They arrived three hours ago and the crew is almost set up. So if Daron wakes up he can watch us live, or watch the recording later. Anni and her crew still swear they'll be lousy at this though."

Both Daron and Joran flatly refused to use network crews for practice. Daron said he'd risk bad coverage rather than let anything out. They were both taking surprise and secrecy very seriously.

"The holovision crew is probably better than they are admitting," Leeth interjected. "They handle WinSome, and those guys move around a lot dancing all over the stage. They just don't want Joran shitting on them."

"That's probably true," Rhea conceded. "But I'd still like to have just one more practice before I face any camera, even if the feed is only going to Daron. I had really hoped Anni would stall and say they wouldn't be set up until tonight."

Since both Chett and Leeth were inclined to agree with her on that, there didn't seem to be anything to say. They sat in silence, staring at the now silvery-rose dawn just staining the mist shrouded horizon. Rhea started to snore softly. In the distance to their left was a villa overlooking the lake. All the lights were on. Someone else was up early.

Was that Ghen's place? Chett hadn't really paid attention to where they were and he couldn't place landmarks in this mist. Friends or not, Joran must be out of his mind letting Ghen on the team.

Abruptly Chett said, "I'm glad Kit is here. We'll need another really good utility player. I think playing with the pros with all this coverage is going to be different from just a pickup game with them. They could decide to focus."

In addition to being a top pop star, Kit was a rich man's son. His father was into media on a planetary scale. Though Joran's frequent claim that Kit had been handed everything in life on a silver platter including his pop career wasn't true, Kit had definitely had advantages beyond his looks and voice. They all knew those looks were a large part of why Joran couldn't stand him. He was as handsome as Joran, with equally long dark hair, but his framed a pale face. He also had almost as good a voice, so there was no likelihood he would ever become popular with Joran, the head of his studio. He had been brought to the studio by Bojo, the number two man at AntonCorp.

One of Kit's advantages by birth was that he had been inside an Octagla court whenever he wanted. His birthday present for his fifth birthday had been an Octagla stick and court time with other tykes. His eleventh birthday present had been a month at a very prestigious Octagla school. Well in advance of his twelfth birthday he had asked if this time he could go to a fine arts academy because he really wanted to learn to sing. His dad had shrugged, rearranged his dreams, and said 'sure kid'. That twelfth birthday present hadn't only been the summer session at the academy, but a recording studio in the basement as well.

Still, Kit had kept up the Octagla. He'd never had the inclination to go pro and claimed he didn't have the talent, but he enjoyed the game and had worked at it hard enough to be a socially acceptable player to the crowd he ran with. That meant that while he wasn't pro he was very good. The crowd he played pickup with routinely included Superstud, two of the players from Rujjipet, and several retired pros from Surana, Tranus, and Laurion. There were also any number of other wealthy men who had entertained aspirations to go pro and didn't quite make it.

So when Kit said he had just hitched a ride since Joran had swiped his holovision crew, he was being tactful. In reality he was responding to a rather impassioned plea from his friend Daron who had said he needed more functional bodies in the court than just Mai, Torin, Roban, and Trevarr, and he needed that person here ASAP. Daron had decided that Kit, like Trevarr, would be a utility player since it was pretty much impossible to predict who would either get tired or screw up.

"It will be nice that Kit's here," Rhea roused herself to agree.

Was this the time to mention that two more additions to the roster were due sometime before tonight's practice? Rall and Eli. They had not been sure when they would make it, but Eli had been so excited about the game he had broken his rule of not communicating with anyone during a Genie run. He had left her a message saying they would be here for the late practice.

Rhea couldn't remember when Eli sounded so excited in recent years, and she knew it was the idea of roof running. He had never run roof. What was the sense when there was no one else up there to play with in the pickup games? But now he had the chance, and it was with retired Hall of Famer Rall, the greatest roof runner of all time. Rhea gave fleeting but only fleeting thought to why Larr could not run roof like his father Rall, then her mind returned to her long time lover and racing partner, Eli.

Like all of the Tribe Eli simply did not disorient. They had been genetically engineered over the centuries to handle the early stages of deep space construction work when there was no structure, and often no nearby planetary bodies to provide any sense of orientation. Compared to that roof running was trivial. So Daron was going to have him run roof with Rall and Torin.

Rhea had spent most of her breakfast mentally reviewing the route from Surana to Gingezel, trying to figure out just how Eli and whoever was co-piloting with him were managing to get here that fast. There had been plenty of time to think. She was learning that Leeth didn't say two words at breakfast. Rhea didn't know who was flying with Eli. No doubt it was one of the Tribe kids he had trained to fly for I.C.E., Interplanetary Courier Express. They were all as crazy as he was. Whoever it was. they had to be crazy to be getting here before the big game much less today.

Rhea looked at Leeth's tough, weather worn face. The few times he had mentioned Eli, it had been to censure him for what Leeth obviously considered as mistreatment of her. For some reason he did not criticize her for spending so many years in a dead-end relationship, and that was what it was since she wasn't Tribe. But he was really critical of Eli for letting her be in one. So Leeth seemed to have a double standard, one that expected better behavior from men than women. He might just be irrational. Everyone was about something. Or it might just be that he was jealous of Eli, and this was how it was coming out.

Leeth caught Rhea looking at him, and gave her a fond, reassuring smile. "You're being nervous for nothing, Rhea. You'll do fine."

No. Now was definitely not the time to mention Eli.

*****

Chapter 31

Abby Grelann burst into the elegant navy and gold sitting room of their hotel suite, her straight pale blond hair swinging. She was carrying considerably more parcels than were required for the swimming suit she had told her father she was buying, especially since when folded it could be hidden in one hand.

"Guess what?" she demanded, then without waiting for an answer continued, "When I came out of the boutique," she lifted the hand that only held two carrier bags, "the Tamaran Octagla team was checking in."

This was absolutely no surprise to Vance. He had watched their arrival from the window and had seen Ranga go in with the rest of the team. That had been a relief. If Ranga had been staying with Ghen that would have been a complication.

He raised his eyebrows slightly and said, "Really. Did you recognize any of them, or didn't you get a good look?"

Abby dropped the parcels and flopped into a chair. At least that was the old Abby, her father thought as he looked at the unanticipated complication he had brought with him. Looking at Abby he found a lot of his wife Cerula, the straight almost white blond hair not the curly deep gold of his own, the nose, the curvaceous build. He saw his own watchful blue eyes looking back at him. But his little Abby was only there for short moments, like the one when she had flopped into the chair

His daughter had never been the slightest trouble. She had been a plump, serious, awkward girl. The only argument they had ever had was about adjusting her braces once when the preceding time had hurt. His friends had laughed when he told them she was no trouble. They had said he was getting a deferral, that was all. Vance had said 'no doubt', and laughed with them, but he had never really thought about Abby as trouble. He had never really thought about Abby at all.

So when the job to go to Gingezel for Zloenni came in, it had seemed like a natural cover to make it a family vacation. Abby was on a school break, and his wife Cerula had been complaining bitterly for almost two years that although they could certainly afford it they had never vacationed on Gingezel.

They had never vacationed on Gingezel because Cerula arranged family vacations, and Cerula thought her husband was a security consultant. Vance was not prepared for the explanations that would be required if he and the family were only granted access on a Criminal Class Visa. Or even worse, and much more likely, he was denied access and Cerula and Abby granted Criminal Class Visas. It would be the end of a long, comfortable marriage.

But since Zloenni was one of his best clients, to accommodate her Vance had tried applying for a visa from the privacy of his office, assuming it would either be denied or Criminal Class. If it was denied, Zloenni would just have to find some else, or would have to be patient until Ranga left Gingezel. If he got a Criminal Class Visa, well he would simply tell his wife he was working and lie to her about where he was going. It was a simple matter to arrange for his messages to be routed through wherever he said he was. It wouldn't be the first time he'd lied.

Much to Vance's surprise, within minutes his visa application had been unconditionally approved. He had found that very interesting. Vance was good at his job. He had no criminal charges, much less convictions against him. And he was exactly what his wife thought he was, a highly sought after security consultant to the rich, the famous, and the infamous. He merely obliged certain clients by permanently removing risks to their security.

But his understanding had been that when Ghen Kulgalu was hired as the security consultant for Gingezel, something Vance had taken as a personal slight, Ghen had provided a list of every security risk he knew of. Looking at his visa approval, Vance had known that was untrue. Ghen knew exactly what he was. Ghen was one of the clients he obliged, and he was used when someone had to be removed who knew by sight everyone that worked for Devon Soimvell.

So Vance had amused himself for a couple of hours speculating on what else Ghen had lied to Gingezel Head of Security Ralin Heusgar about. Then he had applied for visas for Cerula and Abby as well. Leaving the office early, he had bought a huge bouquet of Cerula's favorite flowers and gone home. He had said a contract had been canceled and he had a couple weeks free. Would Cerula and Abby like to finally go to Gingezel? Talk about two excited women!

They were close enough to Gingezel that getting there ahead of the Tamaran team had been no problem. So the Grelann family along with a few thousand harmless tourists had disembarked in one of the megacities. They had spent the night and the next day sightseeing, then moved on to Crescent Bay as an interim stop en route to some tropic sun. Cerula had not questioned his setting the itinerary this time. Vance had encouraged her assumption that he was doing the planning to make up for not taking her earlier and that the prolonged stay in Crescent Bay, the ultimate luxury destination, was the same.

***

It was during the evening in the megacity that Vance had been forced to realize that sometime when he hadn't been paying attention to Abby she had grown up. They had been finishing a singularly good meal when a young man approached the table. He had been watching Abby he said, and wondered if she would like to go dancing in the hotel. Vance had saved his daughter the trouble of answering by sending the young man away.

Back in their suite Vance and Abby had had the second fight in their father-daughter relationship, a vicious one. It was loud and ended with Abby storming into her room in tears, slamming the door in his face.

Then there had been a fight with Cerula. To Vance's shock she had sided with Abby. She had seen the boy with his family. He was polite and respectful to his parents and seemed nice, so what was the harm? They had only been going two doors down from the restaurant, for galaxy's sake. Abby deserved a little fun. Did he want her to start sneaking around? This fight had not been loud or vicious. They never were. Vance rarely won one though, and he had not won this one. Under Cerula's watchful eye he had gone and apologized to his daughter.

Since then Vance had been looking at his daughter with new eyes, trying to find the familiar little girl in this stranger.

*****

Chapter 32

"Of course I got a good look!" Abby's face was animated. "And I recognized quite a few. I mean, you can't really mistake Maras or Big Luis or Larr."

Her eyes grew thoughtful. "A lot though I would never have recognized on the street. Like Roban. I thought he was some kind of team assistant. Then as he walks up to the desk Mercan said -" Abby interrupted herself as she focused intently on her father. "I was sure it was Mercan by the way he's been letting his hair grow but he's another you wouldn't necessarily recognize."

Vance nodded agreement. Recognition was essential to his work and it was a skill he was trying to teach Abby. "If he was just walking you would never pick him out." He added by way of a lesson, "But if he was talking you would. He has very distinct speech mannerisms and voice, and even a good actor would have trouble duplicating them exactly."

"Yes..." Abby went off into a reverie thinking about this. If Mercan had been to a stylist would she have recognized him once he started to talk?

Vance gave her a moment, then prompted, "You were telling me about Roban?" He honestly didn't care about Mercan, but Roban worked with Daron outside as well as in the Octagla court. They had officially acted as heavies once at an Anton party and in general were inseparable. Any little thing he knew about Roban would help.

"Oh." Abby refocussed. "He went to get his key, and Mercan said loudly 'I don't know. Maybe Roban shouldn't be staying with us since he's playing for the other side in the big celebrity game.'

"Then Roban turns around looking real worried. He says to Coach Isley 'Should I stay somewhere else?' " Abby was enjoying this now. She seemed to have her father's full attention, something she rarely did. He was watching her with the clear blue eyes so like her own, his head gravely inclined.

"Then Coach Isley said, 'Of course not. Mercan is just teasing as always. You know we all think this game is a great idea if it helps Daron out of his depression. And he's welcome to stack his team as much as he wants, and you're to help him.' Then Big Luis says, 'As long as he doesn't stack it too much', and they all laugh like it's some big joke."

Disappointed, Abby realized she was reaching the end of her narrative and would lose her father's attention. "And that's about it. I was wondering what this big celebrity game was, but then I realized the group of guys Larr was with were looking at me. And I thought, well, they must have fans watching them all the time and they must get sick of it. So I kind of smiled an apology and left."

Vance sincerely doubted that was why the Octagla players had been looking. They probably had been giving his daughter the once over. He saw the sleek halo of white gold hair the color of her mother's, the fresh young face, the rather pretty smile now that she let herself smile with the braces gone. Those in themselves would have warranted a group of young men checking her out. But there was one thing beyond that. Some time when he wasn't paying attention the puppy fat had rearranged itself. And well, he was sure this was not the word a father should be using, but he couldn't think of another. His little Abby was stacked.

Complications. Vance sighed. He wanted to keep this job nice and simple, and the last thing he needed was the Octagla players chasing his daughter. It could happen too, because he had arranged for the family to be in Crescent Bay for as long as the Tamara team could possibly be around and still get to the makeup games at Pendrae.

What Zloenni wanted him to do was talk to Ranga for her. Normally Vance refused to be a messenger courier, but he could see where she had a problem. Ranga would be staying within two kilometers of Ghen's home, if he wasn't staying in it. Ghen knew everyone who could handle a job like this in her empire, just like she did in his. No doubt she could find someone in her employ who could get a Criminal Class Visa for Gingezel. And possibly that person could come to Crescent Bay unknown to Ghen. However staying unknown in such a small community was improbable. Both Zloenni's person and Ranga would have some heavy-duty explaining to do to Ghen when they got caught, and that was much more probable than not getting caught. Vance would bet the next three years of his significant income that those questions would be asked, and answered obtained, outside of Gingezel space.

Vance on the other hand was a free agent. He did not explain what he did to anyone. Ghen would not be tracking him, or looking for him on Gingezel. And he would have to be a lot less professional than he was to not be able to deliver a message to Ranga with no one the wiser. There would be plenty of time and opportunity. After all, even if Coach Isley was furious with the team which he probably was, he couldn't work them steady or they would be exhausted for the rematch with Pendrae United. So all he had to do was 'accidentally' run into Ranga while Ranga was killing time wandering around town.

True, the full summer crowd of tourists might have made that easier than now when Crescent Bay was relatively empty. And then again it might not. Ranga would attract attention from tourists. The locals must be used to him by now and more or less take him for granted. And if on the off chance Ghen came across them talking, so what? Vance had a simple policy. He never explained himself. There was nothing to link him to a current job for Zloenni, and Ranga was free to make up whatever lie best suited him. No doubt he was quite proficient by now.

It never once occurred to Vance that his hanging around town might be seen as a threat. He would never go after Ghen. Why kill a preferred customer? As for Daron, he had made himself fair game by letting it be known he would take over from his father when he got tired of Octagla. But right now Daron was well within Ghen's safety zone should anyone be after him. Vance certainly was not. And Ranga was one of the safest citizens in the galaxy. Even if Zloenni wanted him gone, which she didn't, she wanted him well and working for her, no one in their right mind would touch a hair of Ranga's head on or off Gingezel. Ghen had put the word out early on about what would happen if anyone touched his son. Vance believed every word of it.

So Vance had no problems with Zloenni's request. Verbally give Ranga an obliquely worded message warning him to keep his mouth firmly shut around Ghen. As to what Zloenni and Ranga were up to, Vance thought it healthiest to not know. He had no doubts how things had started. Ranga was amusing himself in a bed Ghen would skin him alive for being in. But he suspected the events had progressed past that state.

***

Abby sighed. Her father had stopped paying attention again. He was still looking at her and the angle of his head had not changed. The sun still glinted off his dark gold curls. But he wasn't seeing her.

"I'm going to find out what this celebrity game is," Abby announced. "Maybe we can go!"

That focused Vance. They were not going to any celebrity game! Ranga would be playing, and Ghen would be there to watch him. No way!

He smiled. "You do that. Check it out and I'll see from the concierge if we can get tickets." He allowed a small frown to cross his face. "It's strange if there is some big game and we haven't already heard about it on holovision."

Abby had the set on already. "Well, you have now!"

She was staring with rapt attention at an advertisement on the sports channel. This was incredible. The whole Tamara team was playing and on the celebrity side all sorts of people would be there. Anton, Mrail, Johnny Sun. They were old men of course, but they were famous. And Kit would there. He was her idol. She looked at her father. Why was he always so negative?

Vance was staring at the screen only partially suppressing his horror. Talking to Ranga was going to be a low-profile job? Wasn't that what that deceiving bitch had said? 'Just go to Gingezel and talk to Ranga on the quiet. They're just there to do some training for the finals. It will be easy to run into him.' Sure Zloenni, it might be easy to run into him but it would be in front of the eyes, the cameras, and the directional microphones of every sportscaster in the galaxy. And the bitch knew that too. Zloenni always knew exactly what events there would be and where, so she could estimate where the bets would be placed in her gambling empire. She'd suckered him. Well, enough of that little game! His usually nondescript face hardened. He did not allow his clients to set him up. Zloenni would be getting a bill for a nice family vacation, because that was what this was as of now. And she would pay for it. Oh yes, she would pay.

*****

Chapter 33

"It looks like you have a new visitor." Knett made no move to get out of his chair, but he did take his feet off the coffee table. They were back from morning physio and he was monitoring Daron for any recurrence of the tremors that had cut the session short. In theory he should have Daron on monitors, but Knett had learned that was the fastest way to freak his patient out. Knett figured eyes would do to catch that level of shaking and if it reoccurred, like it or not, Daron was wearing the brainwave monitoring helmet. It had been thirty minutes and so far so good.

Daron looked up from the fashion magazine he was reading. It was not on his usual reading list, but Elvira had a series of her sketches in it. Then he had got sidetracked on an interactive review of a resort he and Hidi had holidayed at.

"Roban!"

"Hi." Roban gave Daron a warm smile. Hospitals and hospital visits didn't bother him. Rural life on Kytherial was rough, and someone had always wrecked themselves to some extent. He'd been in a hospital for quite a while when that damned big cat sliced his leg apart, and for a short interval for surgery on a complicated ankle break when he stumbled on a tree root while trying to get the main stump out of a field. Then playing Octagla there had been that slash by Parnilsak that had shattered his hand, and the series of rebuilding surgeries.

"Am I interrupting?" Roban transferred his attention to the muscular man in the chair, trying to place him among the athletes he knew who might be at Trevarr's for training or rehab.

Knett rose. He'd slipped up again, not recognizing Roban in washed out jeans and a T-shirt. "Not at all. I'm Knett, Daron's keeper." Daron laughed at that term and tensed up on 'nurse'. Knett remembered how Roban had gone after Daron's attackers. This wasn't a reunion that wanted an audience.

"I'll do a once around the place. Call me when you need me."

"Right," Daron said casually, secretly thrilled. It was only the last two days they had let him handle some of his own calls. He waited until Knett shut the door then said anxiously, "Ranga. Did Zloenni or Cobyn get near him after the game?"

Roban pulled up a chair. He didn't bother to ask Daron how he was. An attendant nurse answered that. But why was he obsessing about Ranga when there was the pickup game to have fun with? Well, Daron looked upset enough he had better give him a full answer.

"There was no chance. Security took us straight from the Octagla court to the team ship before they let anyone out of the seating. We took our Octagla gear off and showered there while security brought our personal effects to the ship."

Daron relaxed, a little. But there was one more thing. "Look, Roban ... I ... I'm sorry you took the suspension."

Roban's face hardened. "I'm not."

Daron bit his lip, feeling the tremors again and with no intention of calling Knett. "But it's my fault. I took a dive – ran into Zloenni in the press box and she put Cobyn on me."

Roban took his time answering that, mentally replaying things in his mind. "All right. If you say so I have to accept that. But Jonagar was taking you out anyway." He raised a hand as Daron looked about to protest.

"I had a chance to talk to Sabian while they were sorting the penalties out. He said I had to know he wasn't coming at me while Jaik had me pinned –"

"While what?!"

"Haven't you watched the fight?"

"They won't let me."

"Tell Trevarr that's stupid. Knowing is always better than wondering."

Good old practical Roban. "You tell him," Daron said.

"I will."

"Sabian?" Daron prompted.

"Was moving in to get Bralin off me, but he didn't get a chance. Tarell misunderstood and went for him bad enough he had to fight back. It got out of hand."

"And they both got seasons." Daron had wondered about that. Tarell wasn't a fighter, but he'd stick up for someone else.

"While he was talking to me Sabian said you should know that Kendrix told Jonagar in front of the whole team to take you out when he had the chance." Roban met Daron's eyes. "He's done it before."

Yes... Jonagar had done that before. In his mind Daron could see Jonagar's face. Surprise, not shock, not horror. He'd meant to do damage, just not so much. And he'd helped Jonagar do too good a job taking that dive. Damn! Daron couldn't help it. The tremors were back.

"If you aren't calling Knett, I'm calling Trevarr." It was the same calm voice Roban used directing play in the court.

"Knett ..." Daron paused, trying to control his voice. "Trevarr's on the beach with Reno and the guys." Daron reached for the communications center, fumbling slightly. "Shakes again, Knett. Bring me the usual crap."

"Yo." Knett had expected that and he was just down the hall with a tray.

***

"My fault," Roban said as Knett appeared in the doorway with the tray seconds later. "I told Daron that Jonagar had been told to take him out.".

"Had he?" Knett asked impassively as he handed a deep red fruit blend to Daron. The tremors were normal then. He'd shake too if he'd been told someone deliberately tried to take him out.

Since he wouldn't let Daron drink lite beer until mid afternoon they were working through the fruit blends of the galaxy. So far Daron hadn't liked a single one, and Knett watched as he made a face at this one too. Knett waited until Daron had drunk about a third of the glass, then turned to Roban.

"Iced herb tea or the same juice Daron has minus medications? I brought both." He was trying to be everyday and diffuse the palpable tension.

"Tea please," Roban said abstractedly. Daron looked terrible. "I – look I'm sorry. That was mistake on my part."

"Was it?" Knett asked Daron. "Or is the truth best once you stop shaking?" He turned to Roban and added conversationally, "Get used to the tremors. They aren't subsiding and it's hard to predict when they hit. Stress for sure, but some are random."

Knett turned back to Daron. "I should have that monitor helmet on you. We might learn something useful."

"No!" Daron said mutinously.

"Why not?" Roban asked. "Your Octagla helmet monitors your brain activity all the time."

Daron stared at his friend blankly.

"He gotcha." Knett reached for the helmet, holding it towards Daron.

"Only if I get to finally watch my accident and the fight."

Their eyes held for a long moment, then Knett stepped towards Daron with the helmet.

***

So that was the way it was. Daron shut his eyes. He would have been in a hospital anyway. If he had known Jonagar was taking him out, he would have left it at that. Only had a concussion. That was all he'd been trying for. An excuse to be safe from Cobyn, to need to come to Gingezel.

Mai said it was his fault he was in this bad a shape. In a way Mai was right. All she'd seen was the bad move, the dive on his part. But he'd seen Jonagar's eyes, and now he'd seen the way Jonagar set up the check in the replay. If Jonagar hadn't been taking him out and made the dive worse, he might be playing in the finals.

"Thank you," Daron said, not opening his eyes. Thanks Roban, he thought, for going after that son-of-a-bitch. But even on that spurt of anger part of his mind accepted that was just the way Jonagar played the game. Thanks mostly for finally knowing the truth.

"I'll leave now," Roban said trying to read Daron's face. Did he look calmer? "Call me when you want to talk about beating the team."

*****

Chapter 34

Hidi admitted she was nervous about going to visit Daron. She hated illness and she hated hospitals. She was sure she would say or do something to upset him and make him feel worse. Studying her full-length reflection Hidi frowned. Looking traveled would never do. She opened her suit case and studied the contents. A sexy top, a very short skirt, stockings, shoes. Yes, that would be an improvement and definitely not hospitally. Daron liked her to look glamorous and blatantly sexy. Then she called the concierge to get a recommendation of a hairdresser.

***

Very nice! Hidi approved of the salon the moment she walked in the door. Marble tile, modern furniture, soft colors and lighting that would make any woman look her best, plus realistic spotlighting in front of mirrors so you could take a hard look at the results under a range of conditions. The concierge had said there should only be a short wait, if any.

The only person in the lounge as Hidi walked up to the desk was a teenage girl reading probably a fashion magazine on her compad. "I'm Hidi Vernon. I believe you're expecting me?"

The woman smiled. "Of course. You're a few minutes faster than I expected. It will be about five minutes, if you don't mind waiting." They were very busy today and it would get worse. They had all decided it would be frantic until the Celebrity Game was over.

"Of course not," Hidi said automatically although she minded terribly. When this sort of place said five minutes they meant thirty and she wanted to get the visit to Daron over. She turned and saw the girl staring at her wide-eyed. "Hello."

"Oh, uh , hello." Abby was mortified. She hadn't meant to be staring, but you saw Hidi Vernon on holovision all the time interviewing people. She was even more glamorous live. On holovision she always wore a suit and had her hair twisted up. But now she was wearing the most daring little gold skirt and her hair was all loose curls. Abby averted her eyes, pretending she was reading her magazine.

Hidi seated herself, amused. She was getting used people treating her like a celebrity, but she wasn't one. The people she interviewed were celebrities. In her own profession she was still just getting established, and that seemed to be taking forever. She got to interview minor celebrities, rarely major ones. And getting the Anton pre-comeback interview had done her more harm than good. It had caused a lot of jealousy. That in part was why she'd let Daron talk her into this color commentator thing. It would be a little breadth for her resume. Or if it went well maybe she should shift to sports permanently.

Still, your definition of celebrity was all relative Hidi supposed. She sat down and began to think about what being a sports color commentator could mean. She only really knew the two sportscasters, Jorj Deranga and Kenof Ridge by sight. Sure, they covered most of the games Daron played in, and they said hello to her when she was sitting in the network box, or if she was waiting for Daron after a game, but that wasn't the same as knowing what they were like to work with. Well, she'd find out soon enough. They were arriving in the evening and they had agreed to have a late working supper once they had checked into their hotel. It wasn't the same one the team was staying at, which surprised Hidi, but she supposed everyone had their own way of doing things. She wanted to be in the same hotel as the guys. She would pick up half of what she'd say on air just running into them in the hotel and chatting. And by now, being Daron's girlfriend, she was good at remembering what were private confidences.

She couldn't focus. Her eyes kept straying to the young woman sitting across from her. She must be what – maybe sixteen, maybe a bit older? Hidi rather suspected she was one of those girls who grew up late. A couple years, or maybe months ago, she was probably plump and serious and buried in books. That thought brought a small frown to Hidi's face.

So that was what was bothering her. There was this nagging feeling she should recognize the girl. Hidi looked a little harder, not wanting to stare in turn. It didn't work. She couldn't place the girl. She had a good memory for faces, she had to with her job, but people were always showing her holograms of their kids. If this wasn't a resort on Gingezel it would help, but as it was the girl could be from anywhere. Hidi gave it up and restlessly got her compad out of her bag. How long were those five minutes going to take?

"Miss Grelann?" A middle-aged man with a mustache and goatee appeared at the door.

Grelann? It couldn't be. Vance's girl was just a little thing. All puppy fat and braces. She was the reason Vance was delaying his divorce, until she was old enough to understand. Well, this girl was old enough to understand all right. Give her a few years, looking the way she did already, and she'd be the grounds of some divorce. Unlike Vance, Hidi had no illusions about how a girl could change growing up. She compared this young woman to the girl she had seen in hundreds of holograms. The fat and the braces were gone, and the serious girl look was gone. But the hair was the right color and straight like in all those images. And now that she knew what she was looking for, the eyes and the jawline were Vance's. It must be Abby.

Abby rose hastily as her name was called, starting to hurry across the room. Then she remembered herself and slowed to what she hoped looked like Hidi's graceful glide.

Hidi spoke. "Excuse me, Miss Grelann, but are you by any chance Abby Grelann, Vance Grelann's daughter?"

Abby froze, staring, all composure gone. "How ... how do you know me?" She had never met anyone famous in her life.

The son-of-a-bitch. Those images Vance had shown her were at least five years old, and since he'd been showing her Abby's progress for almost three years now, it was a deliberate, well-planned deception. Hidi rose gracefully, her best interviewer's smile in place.

"I know your father quite well." And that's a mistake I'm correcting right now. "Our paths seemed to cross a lot the last few years." She held out her hand. "I'm Hidi Vernon."

"I –" Abby almost said 'I know' then blushed and corrected herself. "Pleased to meet you."

Well, that was one thing Vance hadn't lied about. There was something rather sweet about Abby. And it wasn't her fault her father was a lying bastard who had never intended a divorce. Hidi released Abby's hand. "So how do you come to be in Crescent Bay?"

Abby gave a nervous look to the man in the doorway. She'd come to get her hair cut a bit shorter, and she didn't want to keep him waiting.

"Take your time." He gave her a reassuring smile. "There's no hurry." The hairdresser lived four doors down from Trevarr and he'd heard all about the color commentator. He was quite content to watch the rather attractive scenery for a while.

Abby returned her attention to Hidi. "We're on vacation. Dad has been promising to take us for a long time." Her eyes were glowing. "We'll be on Gingezel for three weeks! I'll miss a bit of school after term break, but that's okay. Mom is so excited. She loves the sun, and once we've been here a week we're going to a tropical island."

"How nice for you." The bastard was giving Cerula, who he claimed to not get along with, the grand tour.

A slender young oriental woman joined the middle-aged man in the doorway. "Miss Vernon?"

Relieved at the interruption, Hidi gave Abby another meaningless smile. "I should go. They're just fitting me in before I go to visit Superstud." She started towards the young woman, then pretending it was an afterthought, paused. "Oh, Abby, do say hello to Vance for me. If you're here for a while there might be time for him to introduce me to the rest of the family." That should make the son-of-a-bitch squirm. She gave Abby another smile and was gone.

Abby sighed in open admiration as Hidi walked down the hall towards a cubicle. "She's so pretty," Abby told the hairdresser. She looked in a mirror at her long, straight hair with disgust. "Do you think my hair could ever look like that?"

He lifted a lock, running it professionally through his fingers. "I don't see why not."

*****

Chapter 35

The wind was in their faces as Larr, Mercan, Red, and assistant trainer Eddy walked aimlessly down the street in front of their hotel. The shop and hotel lined street ran parallel to the lake. The scudding clouds moved shadows across the grey stone buildings of the historical recreation city, Crescent Bay. In the gaps between the buildings they could see the lake, steel grey and choppy. The beach, lovely and inviting in summer was windswept and deserted. It was too early for tourist season, and they had the street to themselves.

Larr, Mercan, and Eddy were all fast at settling into their rooms. They had the same routine. They essentially took a fast scan of the room to be sure everything was fine, which it invariably was, took their toiletries kit into the bathroom, used the facilities, and left the room for the coffee shop. The minimal clothing and personal effects each traveled with would only take minutes to unpack later. What they wanted after the confines of space travel was a change of scenery and to stretch their legs on something more than a treadmill. They always met in the coffee shop, had something to drink, watched the customers as a pleasant change from watching each other, then took a walk.

Today they had changed that routine to take time for an excellent meal, not just a beverage. The quality of the food was one of the pleasures of coming to Gingezel. The other was being able to stretch their legs on solid ground in an attractive resort, not on the plascrete floor of a space station.

They had just been headed for that walk when Red joined them. Usually Red was the second slowest settling in (the slowest was Maras), but he was edgy between his new role as first-line center and the Celebrity Game coming up.

"Mmm. Will you look at that," Mercan said as Abby stepped self-consciously onto the sidewalk ahead of them.

"Nice," Red agreed, resettling his quilted jacket a little more fashionably, half unzipping it even though that let the cold spring breeze sneak down his neck.

"Isn't that the girl who was in the lobby a little while ago?" Larr asked as Abby stood there. "But her hair was straight then.

"Maybe," Eddy said.

Four sets of eyes stared at Abby while they tried to decide if Larr was right.

"You could be right," Mercan agreed. "I think she's just had her hair done like Hidi's. But I'm not sure at this distance. Let's get a better look."

"You just want a better look period," Eddy said.

Mercan grinned. "So? She's worth it."

"You already have more girls than you can handle," Eddy reminded Mercan.

"Hey. I'm just looking. Besides, you're married, and you've been staring as hard as the rest of us." Mercan increased his pace to overtake Abby, who had started walking away from them.

"Hello there."

Abby started at the voice beside her, and half turned to find herself face to face with Mercan. She'd been so busy trying to decide if it was warm enough to go to the beach for a walk she hadn't heard him come up behind her.

"Oh! Hello." It was embarrassed, breathless, and shy.

To Mercan it was also charming. "I think I saw you when we were checking into the hotel. Are you visiting, or have you moved here since our last visit?" She would be a nice addition to town for sure.

"Visiting." Abby was trying desperately to think of something to say that would prolong the conversation. It never occurred to her the men weren't just being polite and had no intentions of moving on. "Have you been here before? It's my first visit."

"We train here every year," Red said, not wanting Mercan to get all the attention. There was a gust of cold wind and he shivered slightly. "That's in the summer though, when it's nice and hot."

"Oh." Abby was wide-eyed. "That would be nice. I want to go to the beach, but I'll freeze!"

"No you won't," Larr said practically. She was still just a kid he decided, despite the curls and sexy curves. It was quite possibly her first vacation in a place like this, the way she was staring at everyone and everything. "Tell the concierge at the hotel you want to sun yourself. They'll put up a wind break and sun reflector like they do at ski resorts. Just wrap up good to walk there and once you are set up you'll be warm."

"Really?" Abby looked at Larr suspiciously to see if he was teasing. She and her friends skied, but no one sat in the sun!

"Honest. I take it they don't tan on the slopes on your planet?" He was smiling, amused.

"No," Abby said, trying to sound worldly, then added honestly, "at least not where I ski. I've never been to a big resort. Mom and Dad go once a year, but I stay with my grandmother."

Abby thought about it while the four men watched this mix of little girl and woman with appreciation.

"I don't think Mom has ever come back tanned."

"Well ask the concierge," Larr said. "You'll find I'm right."

"All right." Abby gave him a smile. That would be great if she could sun herself, not just walk all bundled up.

"So will you be here long?" Mercan asked.

"A week, almost," Abby said. She was starting to relax. They seemed nice, and like real people almost.

"And are you going to come watch us play?" It never once entered Mercan's head he wouldn't be recognized. He always assumed he would be recognized wherever he was. So far he'd been right.

"Oh, I want to." Abby's eyes were shining. "But I bet tickets are really hard to get!"

"Not for you." Mercan made the offer a fraction of a second ahead of Red and got a dirty look from his teammate.

Abby looked uncertainly at the faces, not at all sure what Mercan meant.

He held out a hand. "Let me have your compad. I'll assign one of my tickets to you." He paused. "You know, you haven't told me your name yet."

"Abby. Abby Grelann." She tentatively got her compad out, not quite sure all this was real.

Mercan took it and made the appropriate entry. "There. That will let you into the team box and give you a seat. That way I'll see you at the game."

"Oh!" Abby didn't know what to say. Then she remembered her manners. "Thank you!"

Those pretty blue eyes were too huge and they were starting to look way too star-filled, Eddy decided. It was time to get back to work and get on with his job of being a spoilsport before the guys got themselves in trouble, and Isley blamed him for letting them. And there would be major trouble from this little girl's parents if she got mixed up with any of the three with him. They were too old and too experienced for her. Eddy would bet Miss Abby Grelann's heart hadn't been so much as chipped yet, much less broken. Mercan wouldn't break it, he wasn't the type. He adored women. The problem with him was he had a whole string of girlfriends. This little one wasn't ready for that scenario. As for Larr, a year or so ago he'd been pretty withdrawn, but for the last four or six months he'd been giving Superstud and Jaik a run in this kind of scoring race. And although Red wasn't a serious contender, it wasn't for lack of trying.

Eddy said, "Miss Grelann, I think you said you were here with your parents?" Abby hadn't said exactly that, but it was a good guess.

Abby nodded, a slightly puzzled frown on her face as she tried to place this man. He was older, and didn't look familiar.

Eddy guessed her thoughts. "I'm Eddy, one of the trainers. If your parents are here, let me assign seats for them too. You'll enjoy watching the game together, and the teams are hosting a little media event later on the space station if you can all attend." Eddy held his hand out in turn for an Abby's compad. "I'm afraid it will be pretty quiet compared to one of Big Luis' parties, but he said he didn't want to throw one with Superstud sick. Still, we do have to host the media. They've helped us out on short notice."

It was too much largess. Abby couldn't find her tongue. Then, as Eddy was returning her compad, she managed the question. "Will Hidi – Miss Vernon – be there?"

Eddy looked at Abby's hair and makeup, a copy of Hidi's. Abby had obviously adopted Hidi as a role model. "I honestly don't know. She's working the game, but after that she may go straight planetside to be with Daron. Why? Do you know her?"

Abby reluctantly shook her head. "We just met for a minute. But she knows my dad. I thought maybe I could tell him she'd be there."

"I'm sorry. I honestly don't know. And," he smiled, "we have to go if we're going to stretch our legs before going back to the space station to practice. C'mon Mercan."

***

With Red there would have been a scene. As it was, Mercan just waited until they were out of earshot then said, "What did you do that for?"

"Because Miss Abby Grelann, lovely though she is, is barely sixteen if that, or I'm losing my touch."

"You really think so?" Mercan was doubtful.

"Yes."

"I think Eddy's right," Larr volunteered. "You were only sort of paying attention, Mercan. She looks grown-up, but think about how she just stares at everything, and don't tell me it's just that she's provincial."

Mercan took his time thinking about it. "Maybe. Red?"

But Red was busy doing up his jacket against the freshening wind. He just shrugged.

"Oh well." It was Mercan's turn to shrug. "Let's assume you're right, Eddy. She's still one adorable little thing. How about I introduce her to Ranga? He's been way too serious lately."

Red shook his head. "Ranga's got a girl." Ranga talked to him sometimes. Red had seen them together and asked.

"Since when?!" Mercan demanded.

"Since Pendrae."

"What's she like?" This was news to Larr too.

"Her name is Dawn. I'd guess she's about a year older than Abby. She's almost Ranga's height, with dark hair, pale skin, and a worse nose than Ranga."

They all laughed at that.

"Well, that's Pendrae," Mercan said. "This is Gingezel. I'm still introducing them."

Red tried to look indifferent. He rather fancied Abby.

*****

Chapter 36

"Guess what?!" Abby walked carefully into the family suite, trying to emulate Hidi.

"What have you done to yourself?" Vance demanded, looking up from the stock market report he was reading.

"I had my hair done, that's all," Abby said defiantly.

That was not all. She had on a lot of makeup and it was all in the shimmery gold tones Hidi used. They were fine for a woman to wear in an evening. Well, actually he found Hidi's makeup very sexy. But that was exactly why his daughter was not wearing it.

Cerula heard the raised voices and came into the sitting room. She had been deciding whether to wear the blue dress with the pattern on the bodice, or the wine dress with allover beading to supper. The wine dress had the advantage it set off the necklace Vance had bought her yesterday, no one seemed to be wearing beadwork here.

"What's wrong?"

"Look at your daughter."

Cerula looked. She saw the angry flush and the tight lips. She said, "Oh, I love your hair Abby. It really suits you." It did too. The makeup was too tawny. Abby had her pale coloring and pink or plum would look better on her. But bronze was 'in' right now thanks to that glamorous reporter, and at Abby's age you had to be fashionable. She'd learn, and have fun learning.

"Well I don't like it," Vance said.

"Why?" Cerula was puzzled. She didn't know what had gotten into Vance lately.

"I like it straight." Then before he got himself in trouble, which by the look on his wife's face he was doing, he added, "Like yours."

Cerula gave him an affectionate smile. "Silly, a girl never wants to look like her mother, and the curls look good on Abby. She will have all of the boys chasing her." Cerula saw the 'oh' look on Abby's face. "Maybe they are already?" She suggested, her eyes twinkling. That lad who had wanted to take Abby dancing had been cute.

"Maybe..." Abby had to think about that. Was it possible that Mercan, and maybe Red, and even Larr were flirting with her, not just being nice? It wasn't very likely, was it? All the same, Abby liked the thought and Mercan did give her a ticket. And there couldn't be that many spare seats in a team box.

"Anyways," Abby went back to her main theme, "remember the Celebrity Octagla Game I told you about?"

Vance nodded.

"What is Abby talking about?" Cerula asked him.

"The Tamara team is on planet visiting Daron. They've decided to put on a charity game against a local pickup team with people like Anton, Johnny Sun, Kit, Jon Melcrist, that sort of thing. Daron is coaching the locals. The money will go to benefit kids with injuries like Daron's." Vance had been doing some research while Abby was at the hair salon and Cerula was dressing.

"Well isn't that nice," Cerula said approvingly. She was a firm believer in charities and benefit events and organizing them was a major occupation for her. Her face brightened. "And won't we have an exciting time watching everything!"

"The team is in the hotel across the road! I saw them check in. That's how I found out about the game. Then I looked at the sports to find out more," Abby said, too excited to remember she was being elegant.

"And I'm really sorry, Abby. I talked to the concierge and there aren't any tickets to the game. They were snapped up in minutes." That was probably even true Vance thought. However he hadn't inquired about tickets from the concierge or anyone else and had no intentions of doing so.

"I bet. That's what's so great!" Abby was so excited she could hardly talk. "I've got tickets!"

"You what?!" Vance stared at this creature who claimed to be his daughter.

"I got tickets. From Mercan and some other guy."

Cerula felt the first twinge of nerves. Abby got tickets from the Octagla players? That was totally different from a cute boy wanting a dance or two.

"Do sit down, dear, and tell us. This is all very exciting."

Abby remembered to sit gracefully on a firm navy satin chair, not with a plop on the soft sofa, and fluffed her curls. "I was just walking back from having my hair done and Mercan comes up and says hello. Red and Larr and this old guy Eddy who says he is a trainer were with him." She turned to her father who was giving her mother an 'I told you so look'. "Have you ever heard of Eddy?" Her dad knew all about sports.

"In his day he had the best behind the back pass in the league. He taught Roban a lot of the moves Roban uses."

Not a chance. There wasn't anyone as good as Roban. Besides, Roban was kind of cute out of uniform. "Maybe Roban will be at the party."

Oops! That just slipped out. Abby wasn't sure how her parents would take the idea of a party. They hadn't even let her go dancing the other night. She'd kind of intended to tell them up on the space station, because then it would be impolite not to go.

"What party?" The alarmed exclamation came from both parents.

"The team is having a party on the space station for the media after the game because Big Luis doesn't want to have one. He thinks that would be wrong with Daron hurt." Abby was talking as comfortably as if it was a girlfriend having a birthday party.

Her parents stared at her.

"Eddy said we are all invited." She gave her father a happy smile. Maybe this would make him want to go to the party. "I especially asked if Hidi would be there, because you know her. But they didn't know. She might come back to Crescent Bay straight after the game to be with Superstud."

"And who," Cerula asked, "is Hidi?" Although she knew the answer. She was that glamorous blonde celebrity reporter who was such a style setter. What she didn't know is what Hidi had to do with Vance.

Some restless instinct found Vance walking to the window and staring at the street rather than answering his wife. He didn't fight the instinct. That sort of impulse had saved his life more than once. He saw Ranga get into a taxi and the doorman close the taxi door. Damn! He was too slow. He didn't see if Ranga had bags with him or not. So he had no way of knowing if he was going to stay with Ghen or just visiting. Then Vance reminded himself he didn't care. He was on vacation. Ranga and Ghen could do whatever they wanted, and if he saw either of them he'd say hello. That was all.

He stood there for a moment still compelled to watch the street. Another taxi drew up to the hotel the team was staying at. A blonde came out of the hotel and got in it. Hidi! What the hell was she doing staying there? In the hotel just across the street? He hadn't even expected her to be on Gingezel, because he had checked her schedule. He'd had to do some fast rethinking when Abby said Hidi was on planet. None of it had been comfortable. And now she was staying just across the street.

Vance transferred his attention to Cerula. She had looked more suspicious a few years ago when he was having an affair with Angie, but he would guess that given time she would start to worry unless he could give her a good answer.

"Do you remember a few years ago when I was installing security on the Windler estate?" Vance asked easily. "Hidi was there doing an interview. Our paths have crossed a couple times since. We tend to have the same clients."

Cerula nodded, watching his eyes, trying to decide what percent of that was true. At some level it was true. He had done the Windler estate. And Mrs. Windler was certainly a celebrity. No doubt she could even find the interview Hidi did. But she would guess that wasn't half of it. Did she want to know, or to shut her eyes? She looked around the luxurious room, and thought of the coming vacation to the tropics. Perhaps sometimes ignorance was bliss. Vance usually knew just how far he could push his luck.

*****

Chapter 37

The visitor heralded her arrival by her perfume. It wasn't that it was strong, or overwhelming. That wasn't her style. It was custom designed, as sleek and elegant as its wearer. The color commentator was on planet then. Daron smiled, leaned back, and shut his eyes. He was not feeling fine, but he was more at peace with the galaxy. Roban was right. Knowing had been better. Maybe now he could be like Torin and get on with it.

"Daron?" It was a whisper as Hidi tentatively poked her head through the door. She wasn't sure he was awake, and she was afraid to wake him.

"Hidi." Daron opened his eyes to the nicest sight he'd seen in a long time. Hidi had obviously taken time to go to her hotel and pretty herself up. Her hair was the usual soft tousle of blonde not-quite-curls she wore when not on camera. Her makeup was tawny, subdued, and elegant. Her low cut beige sweater was shot with gold threads, and her skirt, such as it was, was gold and shimmery. So were the stockings. Her shoes were as custom as the perfume. They looked gorgeous and dysfunctional, but Daron knew in reality they were sturdy, relatively low heeled, and she could sprint in them if an interview ran late and she had to catch a flight.

"How are you?" Hidi asked. Daron looked so little laying there. Usually she never thought of his size.

"A lot better now that you're here."

***

"Am I interrupting?" Knett asked from the doorway. A fantastic looking blonde was sitting on the edge of Daron's bed giving him a kiss. She had an arm on the pillow by Daron's head for balance, and her free hand was stroking his chest. Daron had slid his good hand up her hip, under what had to be the shortest skirt in the galaxy.

"Yes. Go away!" Daron said, removing his hand from under Hidi's skirt and using it to pull Hidi towards him for another kiss.

"Not a chance." Knett leaned on the doorframe, waiting patiently and wondering how long this kiss would last. It was a while.

"Are you still here?" Daron demanded, prepared to be really angry with Knett.

That was an improvement. From what he'd seen of Superstud's play, he could have a real temper. "You're not hallucinating, if that's what you mean." Knett stepped into the room. "Since Daron has forgotten his manners, I'm his keeper, Knett. And you're –?" He smiled at the woman.

"Hidi." Hidi straightened herself on the edge of the bed, giving an ineffectual tug to her skirt.

The color commentator. On fashion maybe. How had Anton flown this one? Knett still had trouble calling Anton Joran, even in his mind. Money probably did it, Knett thought realistically as he pulled a chair towards the edge of the bed. "Well, Hidi, you're going to sit here and hold Daron's hand and behave yourself –"

"I thought you were on my side!" Daron was angry now.

"I am." Knett was unperturbed. "So let me finish. You're just recovering a little faster than I expected, that's all." He mentally compared Daron to just yesterday. "Three or four weeks from now, I'd have apologized for barging in, shut the door, and given you some privacy. As it is, I don't want you getting hurt, that's all. So be patient while I check with the boss on what is and isn't allowed. Okay?"

There was enough amusement lurking in the back of Knett's eyes, despite his straight face, that Daron was having trouble staying angry. Besides, anger took energy. "So, clear out and ask!"

"I am. Just behave yourselves." Then he stopped with a rueful grin. "I just sounded exactly like my father." He looked at Daron. "Did I make you feel fifteen?"

***

Rather to Knett's surprise Hidi was sitting demurely in the chair when he returned. All she had done was shift it slightly so she could see Daron's face better, and reach his hand easily. She was holding it as he walked in.

"Trevarr says to be patient –"

"For three or four weeks?" Daron asked sourly.

Knett suppressed a smile. His patient was definitely recovering. "No. Until he's finished putting the soccer team through their afternoon paces on the beach. They should be on their way to the beach now, because he was just leaving and I slowed him down. So we're talking a couple hours.

"There isn't a problem. It's just that Trevarr wants to handle this himself. He tells me he was a resident at a sex clinic for a year or so before he shifted to sports medicine, so he figures he's more qualified than I am to give advice. That's all."

***

The taxi pulled to a stop and Ranga got out, stretching to unkink himself from the ride. He frowned as Vayla, his stepmother, came out of the house with Ghen. He couldn't stand the woman.

There was an awkward silence broken by all of them talking at once.

"Well, I'm here." Ranga was surly.

"Ranga, dear, it's so good to see you." Vayla was breathless with nerves.

"Where are your bags?" This, from Ghen, had the nature of an accusation.

Ranga gave his father a cold look. "I'm staying with the team. I play Octagla, remember?"

The latter was meant to lighten the palpable tension, but it didn't come out right, and Ranga knew it. Why had he come anywhere near this place? Why hadn't he called and said he was grounded by Isley – they were all to stay put in the hotel. Anything, anything but come here.

Ghen's look was as cold as his son's. "So did Daron. Aren't you even going to ask about him?"

Daron. Ranga remembered the scene in the box. Zloenni talking to him. Zloenni talking to Daron. Daron taking the dive, because Ranga knew that's what it was. Daron in a hospital because of him. Daron with a broken neck because Daron was just a little too sharp-eyed and smart for his own good. Ranga couldn't stand the look on Ghen's face. It was like he knew everything, but he couldn't. Ranga couldn't let him know either, at any cost. Zloenni had made that clear.

He turned to look out across the lake and forced his voice to work. "How is Daron?" He knew he should go see him, but he didn't dare. He might say something he shouldn't. Something that too smart Daron could piece together.

"Alive."

Ranga could hear the unspoken accusation 'No thanks to you.' But that was ridiculous. Ghen couldn't know. No matter what Daron might have said, Daron could only be guessing.

Ghen continued, relenting slightly. "Trevarr is cautiously optimistic. There have been problems with all the reconstruction stabilizing, but it's been looking better the last few days."

Daron was right. Ranga was in this up to his ears. Ghen had always been able to tell when Ranga was lying or in trouble. He was in trouble now, but how much? How much? Just sleeping with Zloenni, or what? And how could he find out? Ranga would just lie if he challenged him, and Ranga was both an adept and stubborn liar. At any rate though, Ranga had the decency to feel bad about Daron. In fact, he looked half sick. So he must not have known what would happen. That was a relief at least. If it had looked to Ghen like Ranga had somehow set Daron up, stubborn or not he would have had the truth out of his son.

Ranga turned back to face his father. "I'm glad," he said simply. "We weren't getting much news." His lashes were wet with tears. He looked at the patiently waiting taxi. It was time to end this mistake and go.

Vayla read the look. "Ranga, you have to at least see the changes to the garden."

Ranga shook his head. "No, there's a team meeting. I had to get permission just to come for a few minutes to say hello."

*****

Chapter 38

"Daron," Mitra was trying to be reasonable, "if you don't let me go I can't deliver all these last-minute instructions. The game will have started."

She was in a special communications room that Anni and her crew had created out of a media room. Trevarr had insisted on it, because he was afraid that seeing the dressing room would overwhelm or upset Daron. Daron had done reasonably well watching the practices, but Roban had warned Trevarr they were mild compared to the chaos there would be pre-game.

"Sorry." Daron smiled. He liked his delegate coach, Dr. Mitra Kael, VP of R&D at Dellmaice Power. She looked so cute and tiny in her skin tight turquoise weightless unitard and an only slightly looser tunic that came just below her bum and said COACH in big letters front and back in hot pink. Her wavy brunette hair was a mess because she'd started running her hand through it trying to get the messages right and her nose and forehead were shinier than her carefully glossed lips. She was wearing turquoise earrings that set off her blue green eyes and dangled almost to her shoulders. They were going to be a real nuisance once she was fully weightless and started tossing her head around the way she did. Daron had almost warned Mitra about that, but decided it would be more fun to let her figure it out herself.

It was a pity she'd never played Octagla. That would have helped. For that matter, it was a pity because she had the build and temperament to have been a great center. Joran said if she had been the galaxy would have missed a good engineer, but Daron figured it was just that Mitra wasn't the athletic type. He couldn't imagine her deliberately working up a good sweat if she could do something else like to go to a café or lie in the sun with that pale skin of hers carefully screened.

"Head for the dressing room. I'll be able to hear what you say. If there's anything I missed, I'll just tell you and you can pass it on," Daron said. Knett and Trevarr had eventually had to bluntly lay down the law. He was not getting disorienting visuals from the dressing room.

"Actually," a voice said, "do you think you could manage on your own? It's later than Daron thinks, and he'll miss the color commentator he had them fly in. You can call us if you have trouble."

Mitra recognized the voice. "Hi, Knett. I wondered where you were."

A heavily laden tray came into view. It was supported by two muscular arms that a moment later were seen to be connected to Knett's shoulders, more or less nonexistent neck, and shaved head.

"Doping Daron's food with electrolytes and all the good stuff he hates," Knett said cheerfully. "Off you go, Mitra. I'll stay linked."

"Are my monitors showing too much stress already?" Daron asked in alarm once she'd gone. He had that damned monitor helmet on. Knett hadn't given him an option. He'd just handed it over and said to suit up before the game.

"No, but hers would have been." Knett set the tray down and started laying out their suppers.

***

Daron was not going to argue with Knett before the night really started. Mitra would cope. She was one of those women who were a lot more capable than you thought looking at them. Looking at her you saw the tiny size, the restlessness, the emphasis on looks and fashion. You could decide she was flighty, but she wasn't.

Hidi had taught Daron a lot about misleading women. She looked made for bed, and you'd swear the only thing on her mind was the next style to try for her hair, and that the space under that gorgeous mane was empty. But she was smart, organized, tough, and competent.

He relaxed and settled back to see how Hidi handled being color commentator. Other than helping Joran land her that job, he'd stayed right out of it. She'd do it in her own style, like she did everything else, and she'd have plenty of chances. The networks were playing this for all it was worth, with a long pregame show. Now it started with Octagla scenes of Tamara playing various teams, then shifted to a view showing Hidi, middle-aged and balding Jorj Deranga, and slender black former winger Kenof.

Knett whistled appreciatively. "Wow! Hidi sure knows how to dress." He had only seen her in the minimalist items she chose to visit Daron in.

"Not bad," Daron agreed.

***

Hidi had on a new burgundy skirt suit, the shade the designer had assured her was replacing navy for business wear with his most knowledgeable clients. It was over top of a deeper burgundy weightless unitard woven of semi transparent glitter fabric. It was a business suit, infinitely proper and respectful. But she had made sure the skirt was split, camera side, and it was six centimeters shorter than she would have ever dared wear interviewing a celebrity. They always wanted to be the only ones stared at. The shoes were businesslike too, but the heel was two and a half centimeters higher than she normally wore. The result made her legs look fantastic. The blouse, discrete in a slightly darker burgundy shade, was unbuttoned just one button too far, showing a divine champagne colored lace insert on her unitard. The shape resulting from a really incredible push-up bra that Hidi had decided to wear under the unitard even though it was not at all comfortable left no doubt there would be very interesting cleavage. Her neck was circled by a simple gold chain that blended into her tawny hair, worn loose on camera for once in a just barely businesslike tousle that would soon be a weightless halo.

Her makeup was simple, discreet, and tawny as always. In fact, it looked barely there but her lips had a pout that required real brush artistry. The cosmeticians in Crescent Bay were the best. Jade earrings, dangling just at the limit of being businesslike and safe for weightlessness, finished the ensemble.

In short, those two sportscasters could talk as much as they wanted. But at the end of the night not one jock would know what color shirt they wore – or if they even wore one.

The camera moved in to focus on Jorj Deranga, the senior sports anchorman for Joran's usual network.

Joran was over being furious with Liranz, so it had been agreed, since Joran gave no choices, that they would do the coverage and the other networks take a feed and overlay their own commentary or whatever they wanted. Joran was only allowing one media box. He wanted the boxes for fans, not one for each network.

"Welcome to the Celebrity Octagla Charity Challenge that pits the Celebrity 'Pickup' Team against the defending Galactic Champions, Tamara."

The capital Jorj managed to put on celebrity, and the quotes he managed to put on 'Pickup' were not the way the team saw it. They hadn't once used the word celebrity. After a lot of debate about whether or not they should call themselves Crescent Bay or half a dozen other suggestions, they had settled on The Pickups in deference to Joran and Daron's sense of humor.

Pickup was on a decal in brilliant Anton blue on the rainbow of colors of Octagla suits. Joran's suit was brilliant Anton blue with purple accents. Chett's was navy and yellow. Leeth's was steel gray. Rhea's was emerald green and rose pink. And so it went; no two suits were alike.There simply had not been time to have custom ones made for everyone. So the uniforms read: Pickup, the players name, and their number. Daron had a jersey with the same graphics, as did Knett who had been declared an honorary team member. They were wearing theirs now, watching the game. Knett said his would come in handy some night later on when he was bored. He said he'd replace the honorary team number with his call number, go to a singles bar, and see what happened.

Jorj continued. "What a game this is shaping up to be! I'll tell you right now, a lot of the smart money here at the network is going on the Celebrity team. Talk about a stacked team. Kenof, why don't you start the lineup."

"Thanks, Jorj."

The cameraman couldn't resist sliding past Hidi before focusing on Kenof.

Kenof still had the slender build he'd used to advantage as a winger, but at thirty-two he was acquiring worry lines on his brow. Media life hadn't turned out as easy as he had expected.

"Well, in that stacked Celebrity lineup, the opening center is Mai Chekar. That's right folks, trust Daron to be starting with a woman. But Mai isn't just any woman. Those of you from Pendrae will remember Mai from seven years ago when she led the Nebula to their stunning victory. After almost not making the playoffs, they took the championship in straight games. Mai was voted MVP in that series. She lost out as highest scorer by only two points in that high-scoring series to the Nebula's rookie left winger, Cailla. Mai retired after that series to raise a family here on Gingezel."

***

As images of Mai in the championship final game were shown, Knett asked from his chair beside Daron's bed, "Is Mai really that good, or is this bumpf?" He wanted to know how much he had to rethink this one of his two bosses.

"She's that good and one hell of a dirty player," Daron replied, but his attention was on the holovision.

*****

Chapter 39

Mitra dashed the short distance down the corridor to the dressing room. There wasn't time to deliver half of Daron's messages even if she talked fast and remembered them, but she'd try. Dreen's parting admonition had been 'Have fun!'. She intended to, but if there was a chance at all, she also intended to win for Daron, or at the very least make a good showing of it. But Dreen's sweet 'Have fun!' had a smile on her lips as she pressed her palm to the door contact.

It was scanned and recognized. The door opened and Mitra hurried in, then froze as the door slid shut behind her. The place was mass chaos, and the din was unbelievable. Everyone seemed to be nervous, talking in raised voices, slamming things around. To her right a grave faced Roban was seriously giving advice to Trevarr, who would spell him off as inside left wing both when Mai and Torin played center. Eli, who would take the outer left position whenever Torin took the center spot, was part of that cluster standing leaning on the wall. His whole slender frame was taut with nerves as he questioned various things Roban said. His black hair was constrained in a pony tail Tribe style so she could see the tension on his tan face as well. But there was no sign of Joran, who would be outer left to Mai and be spelled off by Kit.

The defense, Rhea, Bojo, Arn, and Chett, were sitting on the bench opposite the door, presumably with the intent of dressing, but they were all talking at once and not making any progress on suiting up. Chett acknowledged her arrival with a wave. Timoth was seriously inspecting a goal leg pad with his suit draped across his legs. Leeth, who was sitting beside him was also bent over the pad. Papa Uth, who for tonight was equipment manager was peering down, looking worried. They were giving unwanted conflicting advice. The right wingers, Johnny Sun, Ghen, and Jon were listening reverentially to Rall. The second string players Paulo, Des, Perry,and Ico were in their own cluster, and if she judged by noise level they were the most nervous.

Mitra hadn't been in the dressing room before. She'd used the time everyone was dressing for the practices to get used to being inside an Octagla court, then acting as a stand-in for players in various positions while Anni and the holovision crew set up. Now she leaned on the wall beside the dressing room door telling herself she was surprised, that was all, and that once she was over her shock she'd deliver Daron's last-minute instructions. After all, she wasn't much use as a coach just standing here, was she?

"Mitra. What's wrong?" Mai came across to where Mitra was standing.

"You look absolutely ridiculous, Mai," Mitra observed. Mai had on panties with cute flowers and birdies that Meku had probably given her, and that was it. But as least she had panties on. More than a quarter of the players were naked.

Mai took this for what it was, nerves, and ignored it. "What's wrong?" she repeated.

"Is this chaos normal? No one's even dressed." Mai wasn't an exception. The men and Rhea were in comparable states of undress.

"No," Mai agreed, "and they're not likely to move it until you yell at them. Everyone's really nervy."

"Yes." Mitra eased herself off the wall. "But why only briefs?" If that. "I mean, I've never seen sports shows doing waist up only."

"They're faked," Mai said matter-of-factly. "They use special press rooms adjoining the dressing rooms where one or two players get decent in a dry unitard and go for a talk. It looks like a locker room with gear and such, but it isn't. You know that - they modified one for you.

Mitra forced herself off the wall. "Move it!! We'll be late if you don't get dressed!!"

Mitra tried to smile. After all, these were all guys she met several times a year. If they took this as normal, and she fussed, the next meeting would be awkward to say the least. It wasn't that she didn't see them at a beach. Then most that had been wearing shorts started pulling them off. The rest picked up the top unitard from the stack each player had for between period changes. The unitards wicked and absorbed sweat as well as kept the head blood pressure more regulated.

Trevarr started easing into his unitard. He was in the group that had got rid of his shorts. "I'm sorry. Are we embarrassing you, Mitra?"

"I'm just not a jock. I only did martial arts. Mai says this scene is normal." She kept her eyes on his face.

His eyes were twinkling. "Yup. We stall to the last microsecond. The combination of the constriction of the unitard and all that padding in a uniform is damned uncomfortable until you get weightless. And with the contortions out there, you wouldn't believe how shorts can bunch up! Some of the pros say there are okay brands - I haven't found them!"

"Oh!" Mitra's eyes widened in enlightenment. No wonder they were stripping. She laughed. "Live and learn."

*****

Chapter 40

It was Jorj's turn to pick up the dialogue. "And for those of you who don't follow Pendrae women's Octagla, Mai is from a talented Octagla family. Her brother is Hall of Famer, Torin." This was said with honest reverence. Torin was one of Jorj's idols. "You'll be seeing him in this game. That's right, he is finally coming out of retirement for one game! But he's playing second string to his sister." This was said with a mixture of confusion, censure, and incredulity. Jorj simply could not understand this move by Daron, or Torin accepting it. To him it was an insult to his idol.

"That's right folks, Daron is putting this lady ahead of a Hall of Famer, and up against Red, who will be taking the first string center position for Tamara for the rest of the season. It will be real interesting to see how she fares against that class of talent."

***

"That class of talent!" Daron snorted. "She'll make Red look like he's standing there asleep. He won't get a single face-off."

They both listened as Kenof interjected, "We all know that Red has just been waiting for the chance to show Coach Isley that first string is where he belongs, although of course not under the circumstances."

Knett was watching Daron's face. "I'm sorry Daron –"

"Not under these circumstances, hell! How does Red twist these announcers around his finger like that? At least Kenof should have some sense." Daron was blazing mad now. "The bastard would have taken me out himself a year ago in some practice if he thought he could get away with it."

"Whoa! Take three slow deep breaths and calm down," Knett said. "You make any of those sensors complain to me, and I have to to turn the holovision off. The team isn't even in the court yet."

"Sorry." Daron tried to take Knett's advice, but he wasn't sure it helped much. "Red and I don't get along."

"So I gathered from the effort you've put into making him look like an idiot in this game. So you'll have your fun. Now, be quiet. I want to hear the commentators." To say nothing of silence from the coach. Knett was monitoring Mitra. There had been the racket of her entering the dressing room, then she had turned her unit off.

Daron grinned at that. "I want to see the color commentator actually get to talk!"

"Me too," Knett agreed, forking up a mouthful of vegetable, berry, and poultry casserole. He'd had the cater unit stocked with some of Daron's favorites, and they weren't bad."Are they ever going to turn the camera back to Hidi?"

"Not if Jorj and Kenof can help it."

***

"And Mai tends to break to the right, if she gets a face-off of course," Jorj said to polite laughter from Kenof at the idea of her taking a face-off from Red. "So stopping her will be Maras's problem. I shudder to think what the league tough guy could do to a little lady like that."

***

"Maras won't dare touch her." Daron grinned, good humor restored. "And by the time that slow-moving excuse he has for a brain figures out he has a problem we'll be up five goals." This was a key factor in Daron's strategy.

"Speaking of little ladies, do you have any idea who the coach is?" Jorj asked Kenof.

Kenof shook his head. "I've researched every sports database I could find, and if there is no mention of any Mitra Kael. She's a mystery."

"Actually," Hidi interrupted firmly, "most of our viewers will know her." That got her puzzled looks. She rewarded the men with her best smile. "Her being coach is Anton's idea. She is the M in M's song."

Without waiting for a response Hidi cued that memorable scene from the Anton comeback concert where Joran dedicated the song with 'Mitra, this one is for you on that planet in the middle of nowhere', then sang his heart out.

***

"Any messages from Daron?" Trevarr was making fast progress. He'd eased into his unitard and was assembling his Octagla uniform starting with his legs.

"A few million." Mitra hesitated. Trevarr was obviously waiting for his instructions. "Can you wait a minute or two? I'd like to deliver them in the order Daron gave them. My memory works that way." She touched the contact that reestablished her link to Knett.

"Sure." Trevarr did not like the set of the shin pad. He ripped it off swearing. "So who do you start with?"

"Joran." Mitra was scanning the room, carefully keeping her eyes at head level. The others were slower than Trevarr. It didn't help when she caught Chett's eyes and he was openly if silently laughing at her. She didn't bother to look down. Chett would definitely be in the group without shorts. Okay boss... Mitra knew she'd hear about her freezing like that for weeks at work when they both got back to Dellmaice Power on Pendrae.

"Where is Joran?"

"In the shower."

"The shower?! What the hell is he doing there?" They'd never make it to the court at this rate.

"The shower. He started to dress, then he got mad and threw things and headed for the shower."

"Oh." Mitra gave a resigned shrug. "The shower." She headed for that area at a trot. "Joran!!"

"Yo?" Joran's head appeared, his face covered with a water slick. The gravity was low enough in the dressing rooms that water tended to film, not drop off.

"I've got instructions from Daron. What the hell are you doing in there? We'll never make the court in time." Mitra was angry with exasperation.

"Sure we will." Joran stepped out, grabbed a towel, started to dry his hair, then remembered Mitra. He tied it around his waist instead. Moving past her he let loose with a loud two finger whistle. In the startled silence that followed Joran yelled, "Curtain!!"

Turning his back on the room where everyone was suddenly yanking their unitards up and grabbing pads he said, "They are pros, if not all athletes. They don't miss showtime. And Bojo is even finished in the toilet." Stage fright was inevitable for Bojo. "Now what did Daron say?" Joran grabbed another towel and started drying off.

Mitra repeated as accurately as she could what Daron had said, working from memory. The instructions were technical enough she couldn't follow them but Joran nodded at intervals so she was probably getting them right.

"Okay," Joran took a last swipe at his left thigh. "I think - I hope - I've got it. Off you go."

Mitra started to turn, then hesitated. "Joran, I know I'm wasting time, but why are you showering before the game?"

Joran looked sheepish. "I tried to just get dressed, but it felt all wrong. You see, I usually play after a concert and the first period unitard gets unbearably sticky from the oil I used to make my skin gleam on stage."

Joran was regretting ever doing an onstage strip at his comeback concert. Ever since then his fans simply refused to let him get through a concert fully clothed. It didn't seem to matter if they were teenagers at a stadium or grandmothers in a concert hall. They wanted to see skin. So he had given up and made his sweater coming off and being thrown to some in the audience part of the show. With that decision he had started wearing oil so his skin caught the light well and spending a little extra time in the gym to achieve better muscle definition. The band was getting creative at finding striptease music too. But his trousers stayed on. That was not negotiable. Early on the fans had pushed for them going too, like they had at the comeback concert. He had just walked off stage and not returned. After three concerts that only ran about twenty minutes with no apologies and no refunds the fans had caught on and settled for the sweater.

Joran continued, "I just didn't want to jinx myself doing things wrong, so I decided to set a speed record for a shower."

"Right." That reminded Mitra of the time and she took off. Trust Joran to be superstitious at the wrong time.

"Pretty Lady!"

There was an urgency to Joran's voice that brought Mitra around with the snap. He was staring at her intently.

"Mitra, I don't think you can go into the Octagla court with those shoulder dusting earrings on. You snap around like that, and they will get moving." Joran reached a hand out and touched one. "They're heavy, Pretty Lady, with all of that stone. There will be a lot of inertia once they are moving. You swing your head in another direction and in the weightless environment they won't exactly follow or hang down again. I haven't time to work out the physics." Joran was now measuring the length of an earring with his fingers. He then very tenderly laid his fingers on her cheek, totally forgetting he was through with Mitra now that she was married to his best friend. "It looks like one could hit the eye area. Don't risk it." He let the measurement turned into a caress. "Okay?"

Hell. She should have thought of that. Some engineer she was, only thinking about looking good on camera. And she was going to look terrible without earrings. Irritated with herself Mitra turned, removing the earrings. Instantly she felt naked. Well, get on with Daron's messages.

"Mitra," Joran made the name as much a caress as his touch had been.

What now? Mitra was quite sure she couldn't handle one of Joran's passes. Reluctantly she turned back.

"Here." Joran's hand came out of his belt pouch holding studs of intense sparkling Anton blue stone that he had worn for so many years they were part of him. When he had passed the Anton blue stage color on to Bojo and started wearing the purple his dead wife Maillie had loved, he had shifted to amethyst studs for a month or so. But they had felt wrong so he went back to his old friends.

Mitra hesitated. Now they were moving into really dangerous ground. She knew how personal an object was being offered.

Joran made the decision for her. He pressed the studs into her hand and curled her fingers around them. "Move it, babe! If we take so long Daron's messages don't get delivered, and his blood pressure goes up or whatever, that ogre Knett who is taking care of him will rip us apart piece by piece."

***

Knett grinned at the description. Joran was about right too.

"So what's so funny in the dressing room?" Daron demanded.

"You knew I was listening?"

Daron shrugged. "You were bound to."

"Joran just called me an ogre."

"Good for him. Are they doing okay then?"

"I wouldn't go that far, but they'll survive."

*****

Chapter 41

As the clip with M's song aired, Jorj and Kenof's bewildered expressions changed to scowls. Hidi should not have pulled a stunt like that without telling them. Jorj should have been the one to do the talking and show the clip.

As the camera refocussed on them, Jorj said importantly, "Moving on to the inside right, there has been a last-minute and I mean literally last-minute change to the Celebrity roster. Rall, that all-time great roof runner and Hall of Fame inductee a full two years before he retired, has finally been tempted to suit up again." There followed a series of segments starting with Rall roof running at his prime and ending with his being inducted into the Hall of Fame.

***

These clips were accompanied by effusive praise from both sportscasters that had Daron and Knett nodding agreement.

"That man had moves!" Knett said.

"The best," Daron agreed. "I wish I was out there with him!"

"Give it time." Knett knew it was safe to let himself smile at that improvement in attitude. Daron's eyes were totally on the holovision.

***

"And up against Rall will be his son, Larr."

Jorj paused for dramatic effect. "Larr has been moved back up to Tamara's first string with Roban's suspension. He will be playing next to Ranga, the man who displaced him midseason." Jorj turned to Kenof. "Larr has been around as a journeyman with one team or another for quite a few years now. I can't remember him ever working the roof. Can you?"

Kenof looked important. "I never saw him up there when I played, and I had my assistants check that out. There's no record at all, and in early clips from when he went pro he said he doesn't run roof."

Jorj laughed. "That should be interesting then, when his dad goes up. I think I'll double the money I have on the Celebrity team."

***

Knett put down his beer and asked Daron, "Can Larr work the roof?"

Daron shook his head. "He claims he goes weird - barfy – you know – it disorients him."

Knett didn't know and would just as soon not, but he believed Daron. "And how do they get along? It can't have been that easy having a superstar father."

"I dunno," Daron said indifferently. "I've never heard Larr mention him."

Knett had his answer.

***

"I will not go out there and play one-on-one against my father!"

Coach Isley looked at Larr sitting on the bench, fully dressed for the game, arms crossed, legs outstretched and apparently quite prepared to sit there all night. "Oh yes you will," he said in his best coach's voice that allowed no opposition.

"Not a chance," Larr said firmly. "Use Chan. He's a utility player."

Isley looked at Chan, a tall rangy oriental. He was half dressed and had stopped dressing to lean on a nearby wall and openly listen to the argument. The rest of the players were merely eavesdropping while finishing dressing. "Yes, and he's a good utility player. In fact, give him another two years, and he might be a better one than you are. But he isn't now. And that's why you are the one replacing Roban. Face it, Larr. You and Ranga need this chance to play together in more than practice scrimmages."

That was true enough, but Larr wasn't about to back down. "I will not go out and play my old man," he repeated.

Isley dropped to a crouch in front of Larr. "Old man is right, Larr. Grow up. You aren't a thirteen-year-old kid with a superstar father pushing you anymore. Your dad's retired. Hell, he's almost my age. How he got talked into going out there I have no idea. I know no one could pay me enough to. But the roles are reversed, Larr. He's over the hill and you're the best journeyman the league has seen in years. If anyone is risking looking stupid, it's him, not you.

"So let it be, Larr. If it makes him happy to go out and see if he still has a few moves left, what's it to you? Do your job and treat him like anyone else. And when the game's over, and you find out you survived, shake hands and offer to buy him a beer. He'd like that. This estrangement has been hard on him."

"On him?" Larr's voice was bitter. "It's a two-way street, Isley."

Isley shifted position, wondering just how long he could stay crouched even in low gravity without his left knee acting up. It had seen surgery three times, twice successful, the last time not. But he didn't want to tower over Larr.

"Maybe, Larr, but you've been the one walking it these last years."

Rall had never been good with people, Isley thought. And he'd wanted Larr to be like him. He'd pushed way too hard, and almost lost Larr. When Larr had found his niche as a journeyman utility player and relaxed and matured a bit, Isley had thought there was an improvement. Then there had been that woman, and Larr's illegitimate son. That was a secret no one was supposed to know, but Rall had told him. Getting landed with a baby to raise had almost been the last straw for Rall, and Isley cringed at the exchanges he imagined between the two men. But Rall was raising the boy. He hadn't thrown him out. Larr ought to give his father credit for that at least.

"Your dad knows he's screwed up, but face it, Larr. He's lousy with people. He always has been. He just doesn't know how to bridge the gulf." A stab of pain made him shift again.

"Hell Isley, get up! You trying to make me feel guilty wrecking that bum knee?" Larr turned to Chan. "Quit just standing there listening to what's none of your damned business and get the coach a chair!"

Chan gave Larr a totally unperturbed salute and went for a chair, while Isley cautiously straightened. He flexed the knee, made a face as it ground and resettled itself, and accepted the chair. "Like I said Larr, old men. And your dad has a lot more synthetics in him than I do. That last round didn't go that great for him either."

Larr gave Isley a suspicious and not terribly sympathetic stare. "And how come you seem to know more about my life than I do?"

Isley sighed, and counted to ten. Larr hadn't once been a problem since joining the team, and he wouldn't be now except for this damned pickup game that had gotten out of hand.

"Larr, your dad and I go way back. I won't say I changed your diapers, because your dad wasn't galactic pro when you were that age, so I didn't know him. But the year you were four years old we teamed together. There were six or seven of us that hung around together, and whenever the team was playing on Surana we were at your house." His face softened. "I rather think that in an innocent, harmless way we were all a bit infatuated with your mother. She's a lovely woman, Larr. She put up with the lot of us – fed us and stepped over us when I'm sure she'd have sooner had Rall to herself for at least a few hours. You know what it's like on circuit to have somewhere other than a portel to be."

Isley stopped abruptly and stroked his mustache, wondering if he'd blown it. He hadn't meant to bring Larr's own failed attempt at building himself a home life to mind. He wasn't even supposed to know it. Larr had never mentioned it to anyone on the team, and now was not the time to get Larr even broodier, or worse still have Larr figure out he knew about the baby and really explode.

Reluctantly Larr nodded. But Isley couldn't really know how attractive the idea of a home could be when you didn't have one. He was lucky – even back then he'd been a happily married man.

Isley continued looking for safer ground. "You were such a cute kid. None of us – your dad included – dreamed you'd play Octagla. All you cared about were your toy earth-movers and cranes and such. We all figured you'd end up a heavy equipment operator." He came out of the reverie. "Do you remember any of this, or were you too young?"

"I don't think I remember." It was Larr's turn to lose focus. "I remember once someone gave me a Tranus-style trench digger. I remember because it was almost as big as I was and it wasn't even my birthday."

Isley beamed. "Fancy that. That was Oranz, our center. He used to spend all his time down on the floor playing with you. He got the damned thing doing planetside time on Tranus itself, and carted it around for twelve games until we were on Surana again and he could give it to you.

In spite of himself Larr was curious about this part of his history that he'd never heard. "So what happened after that?"

Isley shrugged. "A new young guy better than me became eligible for draft, so I got traded at the end of that season – the standard journeyman's life. Neither your dad or I are great at keeping in touch, but during the season when we played each other we'd find time to go for a beer between games. We were never up against each other in playoffs. And our wives stayed in touch once a year or so after we both retired. Then we sort of lost touch.

"Now, what happens is he calls now and again. And," he added looking straight at Larr, "although it's none of your business, I'll tell you right now that we have never once discussed your career. Rall knows I wouldn't do that. It's just family stuff – how the wives are and such." And some of the questions were so basic they were rather pathetic too. Was Larr staying healthy? Did he make friends all right? There was obviously a real problem between the father and son, but that was where Isley wanted to keep it.

Isley pushed himself out of the chair. "So rethink life, Larr. This is supposed to be a fun game remember? Something to cheer Daron up."

The team had been taking it that way until now too. There had been endless speculation as to what Daron and Roban were cooking up, then a lot of anticipation about actually being in the same court as Torin once that came out. Chuckling about Mai and whether or not she'd clean up her play for holovision had been the reaction to the news she was main center, not her brother. And there had been equal amusement about how Joran and the musicians would fare. The consensus was that they were always a nice crowd when they played pickup with them on tour, and none of the guys wanted to make them look stupid. High excitement had dominated since the sudden word that Rall was here and would be playing.

Isley looked at his wristband. "You've got about five minutes to think, Larr."

"And if I still say no?"

"You're pushing it Larr," Isley said evenly. "Then as far as I'm concerned, you're refusing to play without a legitimate reason and you know the consequences. No doubt your agent could try to make a case that this game is outside the schedule, but I'll tell you right now he won't get anywhere."

Isley turned away, mildly concerned but not overly. Larr could be stubborn, but he wasn't stupid. He'd come around.

***

"Of course Rall can't play a whole game," Kenof said seriously. "A number of celebrities will be sharing the inside right position with him. Des and Paulo will be there. And Johnny Sun says he'll make a short appearance, but that he thinks he's a bit old for a heavy duty session with the galactic champs."

Jorj nodded solemn agreement, and had the camera been including her, Hidi's expression would have been venomous. Celebrities were her territory, and these guys had just glossed over three big ones. Since Anton was back onstage and Bojo had launched his solo career as Mrail, Johnny Sun was no longer guaranteed top spot in the pop charts, but he was always in the top five. Paulo had just released another jazz guitar album independent of the Anton band and it was already at number twelve in the jazz rankings. And Des – well, Des was such a sweetie every girl under seventeen had to have fallen for him. Quite a few grandmothers too.

*****

Chapter 42

"And moving on to outside right, there is another famous name, Ghen Kulgalu, the pharmaceutical magnate," Jorj said in his most serious tone. "He will be known to our viewers for his frequent support of charities." He smiled a malicious smile. "But this is your territory, Hidi." And that served her right for showing the clip of M's song without asking permission.

"Thank you, Jorj," Hidi replied, her voice honey, her thoughts acid. Trust these bastards to leave Ghen Kulgalu to her. How did Candy stand them?

***

Hidi had mixed feelings about this assignment as a whole. She was from the lower level of celebrity reporters and was determined to move up. So she had agreed to the job despite the sports angle, to please management, to please Daron, and because she could spend time with Daron that her work schedule wouldn't have allowed. The older celebrity reporters had tried to warn her off, advising her to use leave to see Daron and refuse the job. They'd said the sportscasters would put her down continually. She'd laughed. But by the end of twenty four hours, she'd wished she'd said no. And now that they were airing, all she was getting was put downs, condescension, or just plain invisibility.

In a call after that first day to her soulmate, advisor, and confidant, her grandmother, Hidi had admitted she was undecided whether to quit, cry, scream, or hit someone.

Her grandmother had heard her out, then asked practically, "Do you want to get even, or keep bringing home those big fat credit deposits?"

Hidi had said she wanted the credits of course, then added wistfully, "But I'd sure like both."

Her grandmother had twinkled and said, "Well, let's see what we can do about you getting both."

Now she'd see how Gran's advice worked.

***

Hidi smiled her best smile. "Thank you, Jorj."

"Oh, oh," Daron said to Knett. "Put that fork down and focus. This should be good."

"What gives?" Knett shoved a last forkful of casserole in his mouth.

"I dunno, but she's furious. She never does that honey voice, smile like a cat with a plate of cream routine unless she's going to deck you."

Hidi leaned forward, shifting her shoulder so her blouse fell open showing the unitard glittering over her breasts.

Daron grinned. "Go get him, Hidi."

"Yes, Ghen Kulgalu. As you say, he's renowned for his charity work." And renowned for being one of the galaxy's two drug lords, to say nothing of the number of times various law enforcement agencies have tried to nail him and failed. "But you know Jorj, Ghen isn't only known for his generosity." Hidi paused to let Jorj sweat a bit on what was coming next. "He was a serious athlete in his youth. He played soccer at university and had pro aspirations."

She brought up a home recording of Ghen Kulgalu running down the edge of a soccer field, looking remarkably like Ranga. She noticed with satisfaction the blank looks on both men's faces. They had slipped up on research there, if they had even bothered to do any. Bless Gran. That woman remembered the most remarkable things. Hidi had no idea who had taken these images or how Gran had got them on such short notice.

"In fact, he was invited to a pro camp, but was called away with a family crisis and never had a chance to continue his athletic career." By the time his father had finished doing the eight years they finally nailed him for, Ghen had taken over the business. "Perhaps," Hidi smiled sweetly, "that's why he's so supportive of his son."

"We'll have more of this fascinating background after these messages from our sponsors," Jorj said hastily.

A racing yacht ad came on. Both men were openly sweating just at the thought of linking the two, Hidi noticed with satisfaction

***

"Should she have said that?" Knett asked Daron.

"Said what?" Daron was grinning at the look on Jorj's face. Good for you, Hidi! You shut him up!

"I guess not said, implicitly said Ranga is Ghen Kulgalu's son."

Daron stared at him, confused. "Ranga is Ghen's son, so why not say?" Daron figured Ghen would be pleased. He was so proud of Ranga. "Didn't Ghen look just like him in that soccer clip?" He'd have to ask Hidi for a copy. His mom would have missed it since she was en route in hyperspace.

***

Kenof turned to Hidi. "Hidi, you must know you can't say –"

But a tone was chiming on her desk, meaning a priority message. It was in response to the commercial break she and Gran had figured would be called the minute she linked Ghen and Ranga. Hidi held up her hand.

"Wonderful, where did you find that? Let me check. I'll replace another clip." Smiling at Jorj with a placating hand in the air she listened while Gran told her how great she looked and updated her on the day's events back home. The clip referred to did not exist, but that didn't matter because Hidi was sure she would not be given a chance to air anything more. "Well, I can't thank you enough," she said as they had agreed when they were timing out.

With less than three seconds left she refocused on the two men. That was a dirty trick, bless Gran. "Sorry Jorj, but this clip is marvelous. Now what were you saying?" And they were on the air.

*****

Chapter 43

Isley transferred his attention to the one the player he did feel had a legitimate reason not to play. Ranga had quit pretending he was getting dressed and was sitting there shin pad in hand, also listening openly to the conversation with Larr. Isley wished Larr hadn't pushed him into that speech about the consequences of cutting up, because Ranga probably thought it was aimed at him too. What had possessed the Pickups when they agreed to have Ghen Kulgalu play, or Daron in putting him on outside left against Ranga he'd never know, but Ranga was in a really awkward spot. Not for the first time Isley wished he could read Ranga more easily. Right now his color was high, and he'd been nervy all night, but he was high strung at the best of times.

Isley said, not unkindly, "Ranga, what about you? Are you going to have trouble going out and playing one-on-one against your father?"

The chin came up, defiant.

"It doesn't make any difference to me."

Right. Isley tried again. "I really am sorry, Ranga, that you've ended up in an awkward spot. Until now, no one has commented on your –" He was going to gloss it over and just say background but what was the sense? Now every sports reporter on every planet would be all over the kid. "On the fact your dad's a drug lord. But after tonight there will be no avoiding it. I honestly don't know why he's doing this."

Ranga's voice was level, as cold and impersonal as Ghen's could be. "He's always been close to Joran." Ranga was not going to let on Ghen knew Daron to anyone on the team who didn't know. "And when this pickup game started it was going to be a private thing. My dad has played recreational Octagla all his life, and he's a decent player. He was having fun helping Joran and Daron with strategy too. The shift to a media event just happened. But since it did, it's not the sort of thing he hides from." Ranga's chin was up again. "Neither do I. I won't be giving you any trouble."

Somehow, that last comment felt like a put down to Isley. "I didn't mean to imply you would, Ranga." The words felt too formal. He tried again. "You've been an excellent player, and I just wanted you to know that that's all that matters to me. But with the media we are going to get now, Ranga, you need to know where you stand." He hadn't intended to do this, but maybe having everything out in the open was best.

Isley turned to scan the room. "Does anyone on the team have a problem with Ghen?" He ignored Larr who was still slumped in his retrospective study, and started slowly looking from face to face, intending to end with Maras who probably would give him trouble.

He'd only gone through three faces though, when Larr stood up.

"Yeah Isley, I have a real problem. Not with Ranga." He went and put an arm around Ranga's shoulders. They were trembling. Larr was learning Ranga was like that. He acted a lot tougher than he was. "But with your question. Of course I have a problem with Ghen Kulgalu, and everything he stands for including his hypocrisy hiding behind all those legitimate pharmaceutical companies. But when Ranga jets into an Octagla court, he's Ranga. Period. Not Ranga Kulgalu. Just like I'm Larr, not Rall's son. So the question should be, do I have a problem with Ranga and," he gave Ranga's shoulders a squeeze, "I don't."

For a moment there Isley thought the team had their new leader, that Larr would go on and challenge each of his team mates. But he didn't. He returned to the bench. So Isley took on the job. "Larr's right. The question is, do any of you have a problem with Ranga?" This time, because it had become a major issue, he asked each player by name.

By the time Isley was three quarters finished, Ranga's eyes were bright and stinging from tears he flatly refused to shed. His mind, usually agile, felt slow and clumsy as he tried to accept the fact he'd had things totally wrong. He had been working on the basic assumption he was on the team, but not part of it. It was nothing new. It was the operating condition of his life. 'We'll let you get so close, no closer.' He knew the rules. He'd learned them empirically as a child. He knew the reason. He'd learned that intellectually as an adolescent. Ghen Kulgalu was his father. And really, it hadn't been too bad playing for Tamara. When they all entered the court, only the playing mattered, and he was on the team. That was the good time. When they left the dressing room, except for the rare occasion when Daron insisted he be included in things, he was on his own. Well, that had been fine too if they wanted it that way. He had his art and his pride, and his computer. At least he'd had his computing as an escape and a comfort until he'd fucked up with Zloenni.

His mind shied away from that, and he focused on the blurry faces as Isley counted them off. To a man they were saying they were on his side, and they didn't give a damn who his father was, or what the media made of it. He was a good player, and he was all right. Ranga blinked, and swallowed, trying unsuccessfully to adjust his thoughts.

It wasn't surprising he'd got things wrong. When he'd been drafted the players made no particular effort to accommodate him, and as sensitized as he was, he felt it. But it wasn't because of his father particularly. They had been suspending judgment on that. It was because they had all seen the one season wonder before, the rookie who caught management's eye and could do no wrong but simply couldn't cut it at the galactic pro level. They would wait.

Now though, Ranga's second season was drawing to a close, and he'd earned their respect. There was another problem though – an age spread. Ranga had just celebrated his twentieth birthday and Tamara was a mature team with a median age of twenty-six. The older players simply assumed Ranga had his own interests and left him in peace. If he had made overtures of friendship once he was a proven player, he would have been accepted, but he hadn't.

"Maras?" Isley asked.

Maras was busy thinking, so he ignored the coach. This were important, so he wanted to get it right. Isley, and Larr, and the rest of the team meaned good. They was saying Ranga played real good, and he did. He was also pretty sure, although they didn't say it so good, that they was proud of Ranga for being an Octagla player and putting the drug stuff behind him. That were nice of them too. But Maras had a real problem with that because they was just plain wrong.

Maras had been watching Ranga, and watching Daron, and watching Daron watching Ranga. He knew most of the guys didn't know Daron were worse news than Ranga, but he did. And something were real wrong about Daron's accident. Then too, some real, real bad news type were around Ranga a lot on his time on the Pendrae space station. He didn't know who the blond tough were, and short of reestablishing some contacts he didn't want to because he'd made them in prison, he couldn't find out. But drugs was a safe bet since Pendrae were Zloenni's home base. Ranga weren't no user. So he were trafficking.

Maras scowled at the floor. Should he set things straight so nobody on the team got more suckered? Ranga weren't playing straight just standing there like that. He were letting everyone be wrong. Or should he do it different?

"Maras!" There was an edge to Isley's voice.

Feeling extremely unfairly hurried, Maras made a decision. It was not particularly based on Ranga. It was based on himself, a Maras who at Ranga's age had already seen the inside of a prison, and a man who had taken the time to show him he could break the pattern. And it was based on his little brother a year younger than Ranga who was headed for really deep trouble, and who had that same high pride that was all over Ranga's face. Pride that made him so stupid you couldn't even talk to him.

He looked Ranga in those bright, tear filled eyes. "If you really is going to put all that drug crap behind you, Ranga, good on you. And if you do," Maras's tone and his eyes held infinite doubt, "I'm proud to be your teammate." Something in that face that was not at all like his brother's, the tears that was making those eyes bright, made Maras hesitate. He didn't want to just walk away and let the guys get suckered. But somehow suddenly he didn't want to put Ranga on the spot either by saying too much.

"Look Ranga, if that's the way things goes down, I'm here." He stood and held out a massive paw.

That little speech left the few team members who ever bothered to try to figure out where Maras was coming from mentally scratching their heads. But Ranga had no doubts on meaning. Maras knew. How much he knew Ranga had no idea, but Maras knew he wasn't clear of the drug scene. That he was in trouble up to his ears or worse. And Maras, Maras of all people, was offering to help out. The one man on the team who knew the kind of life Ranga was caught in lately, and was tough enough his offer wouldn't be useless. It was too much. The tears overflowed and Ranga headed for the only privacy available, a toilet stall.

Maras watched the retreat with total unconcern. Ranga had heard him. He'd make up his mind when he'd got time to think. Pleased with himself and totally indifferent to the effect he'd had on Ranga, Maras turned back to his bench to finish dressing. Then a beatific smile spread across his ugly face. He were gonna play with Torin and Rall. Torin and Rall. Maras had been repeating those wonderful words in his mind for hours now.

Isley watched Maras's totally indifferent return to dressing with one thought: 'someday I'll ring that thick neck.' Isley counted slowly to twenty, then backwards to zero. He looked at the toilet stall. And he wasn't even getting paid for this.

*****

Chapter 44

"On inside left, Roban will be taking turns with Trevarr, the man who conditions and assists with training for Tamara off season," Kenof said.

Jorj nodded. "Torin said he had a dream line in mind – himself, Rall, and Roban. That really should be something to see."

While they weren't friends, Jorj had interviewed Torin plenty of times when he played. So they'd had coffee yesterday.

Jorj said, "I asked him if he thought they'd win with that dream line. He said not likely unless Isley breaks his promise to use the first string lineup as much as he usually does."

Kenof stared. "Promise?"

"That's right. Daron made him promise to use the regular lineup."

They shook their heads.

***

Daron grinned. "It will work out. Between the facts that Maras won't know to deal with Mai, that he and Big Luis don't know how to stop a roof runner, and with three roof runners in the 'dream lineup', I think we have a chance." While Rall was the one renowned for his roof running, Torin knew how to run roof, and Eli was giving it a try.

"Can't Maras or Big Luis stop someone on the roof? You sure about what you're saying?" Knett asked.

Daron thought about it. "Neither go weird like Larr. I've seen both of them go up after a bounce the odd time. But they can't play a roof runner." He added wistfully, "I mean, none of us have had the chance."

But Daron was wrong. In his last year of Terran junior, Maras had played with a roof runner, and thoroughly enjoyed both setting him up during games, and practice scrimmages where he stopped him. The whole team had dreamed of being able to say someday they had played with someone who ended up better than Rall. It had been a one season dream though. That off-season the same young man had totalled himself vehicle racing. All the same, Maras was really looking forward to being on the roof with one of his heroes. Daron and Rall were in for a big, big surprise.

***

"And on outside left there's another last-minute addition to the celebrity roster – Genie racer Eli Heron!" Jorj said. "I wonder when he showed up?"

"9:20 last night. He brought Rall," Hidi said helpfully.

She'd been holding Daron's hand while there was yet another strategy session, and at 9:15 Trevarr had come in to say to break it up, let the patient rest. Trevarr had got suckered into the argument though, and then at 9:20 Eli and Rall had come in. Eli had said he was really and truly sorry they were late, but with all the visitors arriving for the celebrity game he'd been put in a holding pattern by the spaceport. Trevarr had given up and said okay, 9:45, but no later. The rest would wait until the morning.

At 9:45 they had all dutifully left and she'd walked back to the hotel with Eli. The wind dropped and it had been one of those perfect early spring nights, too beautiful to go in. So instead they had walked along the beach, getting further and further towards the end of town. At last they had found a spot that suited Eli and sat and watched the moonlight on the water. It was also one of those nights when Eli looked exotic to her with his Tribe coloring somewhere between tan and mahogany, high cheek bones, the tattoo giving his lineage. Moods were playing across his face like the moonlight on the water.

Hidi had expected Eli to make a pass at her, he usually did, and to have to dodge it like she usually did. Usually, but not always, not always when he looked like that. But as if he could read her mind, he'd said he couldn't, not with Daron laid up like that. So they'd talked. He'd told her about his disastrous marriage, his great little boy, and how pleased he was with the way the pilot training program was going for I.C.E. She'd told him that she honestly didn't know what to do at work – she thought she was permanently plateaued no matter what she did – and about the S.O.B. who was now history. Then they had walked some more, and Eli had told her the names of the stars, and which ones he'd been to.

***

Jorj had intended his comment on when did Eli arrive as rhetorical. Ignoring Hidi he trusted Kenof to pick up his cue.

Kenof did. "Eli Heron is a name we haven't heard at all since he and Rhea Enlis split up and quit Genie racing. But what a career that pair had!" This was followed by a series of clips. "Do you have any idea what he's doing now?"

"No idea," Jorj replied. "He's dropped right out of sight."

"Only if sports is the only news you watch," Hidi said sweetly, re-crossing her legs and letting a shoe dangle. "He's been flying for I.C.E. on their new Genie courier shipping service. Eli is the one who established their training program. As a trial they've got thirty Tribe pilots training now, along with ninety-three non-Tribe. He thinks this could provide a really suitable alternative for Tribe members like himself who don't want deep space construction work."

She did not tell them of Daron's strategy to use Eli as a third roof runner. Eli had never had the chance to try it so he was nervous. But Tribe simply didn't disorient so Hidi had faith in him.

"Thank you, Hidi," Jorj said stiffly. "Now, also playing outside left is Kit. I think you have something to add there, Kenof."

Kenof nodded. "We all know Kit's career, first as lead singer in Also Ran, and now solo with AntonCorp. But Kit is a good Octagla player – I've played dozens of pickup games with him over the years."

"As we said folks, a stacked lineup," Jorj said. "And finally, on outside left is pop superstar Anton. Kenof, does Anton have an Octagla background too?"

Kenof replied, "He isn't at an almost pro-level like Kit, but he'll hold his own. The whole band has played a lot of Octagla the last couple years, including pickup against Tamara.

"Yes, the Celebrity Pickup Team will put on a good show."

***

"Stupid thing!" Mai's voice cut through the male voices. With a few less complimentary terms she unfastened her right shoulder pad and threw it to the floor. It was her third try and her temper was going.

Uth hurried over. He was every centimeter the concerned grandfather trying to be comforting. "Mai, can I help?"

"I doubt it!" Mai snapped, putting all her nerves and frustration into the answer. She'd been fine until she started dressing. Then all of a sudden it hit her she was going to be seen all over the galaxy, playing Tamara. Maybe if she'd never played pro it would be a lark, but she had an image to protect. And she knew she was out of shape from her pregnancy.

"We should have borrowed a trainer from Tamara!"

Uth was more amused than worried or insulted. He knew back stage nerves when he saw them. "Sorry Mai, jazz clubs don't cover positioning shoulder pads, or any aspect of Octagla equipment for that matter." But he was trying, and running himself breathless gofering.

Mai ignored him, searching the room to see who could help. Trevarr was dressed and trying to adjust Timoth's left leg goal pad with unwanted assistance from Leeth. Torin was dressed, and giving Arn a hand fitting his chest pads. Rall wasn't dressed. He had his unitard on, but that was it. By the look on his face, he was starting to wish Torin hadn't talked him into this.

Mai was right there. At the time Rall had jumped at the chance to finally be in an Octagla court with his son and his son's team mates. That had been what mattered, not the chance to play with Torin and Roban. But it had started to feel like a bad idea about half way through the first strategy session with Daron. He had not called Larr as he had planned when he got to his hotel. Isley had answered the call to him though. He'd asked Rall what had possessed him to suit up again. He never would. And Isley had been right. He should never have done this. Now he was trying to figure out how to make the best of a bad situation and not embarrass himself or his son.

Mai continue to scan the room. The only other pro left was Roban. He'd been dressed for some time and was sitting quietly waiting for the game to start.

"Roban – come give me a hand!"

Roban rose obediently. "What's wrong, Mai?"

"I can't get these shoulder pads to sit right."

"Mai!" This was ridiculous. She was a pro. "Your chest pad isn't on yet. They are meant to sit over it at the joins."

"It's not going on. Not until the last minute – make that microsecond." She was still blazing hot at random times and her breasts were tender. Wasn't motherhood glamorous?

"Well," Roban said reasonably, "leave the shoulder pads to the last microsecond too then." He looked at his time strip. "You're pretty close to that anyhow."

Mai followed his glance. "Galaxy! And you're one of the few dressed."

Joran's 'curtain call' had only worked long enough to get everyone into their unitards and a couple of pieces of their uniforms. Now most were fussing equipment like she was. She grabbed the hated chest protector and slapped it in place.

"Get both shoulder pads right will you, while I do my shin pads? Then we'd better help the Anton crowd out or we'll never get there."

Mitra was walking past and Mai asked, "Got those messages delivered?" She tried to control her temper and carefully fit the shin pads against her boots.

"Just Kit left. Daron left him to last because he had such a long list." The entry buzzer sounded and Mitra jumped. "Should the press do that?"

"No!" Mai and Roban said in unison.

The buzzer sounded again, urgent.

Mitra hesitated. It sounded again. Activity in the dressing room had come to a halt. Angry now, she walked to the door and slapped the contact. "What –"

***

"Daron," Knett's voice was quiet, "I think you'd better monitor the dressing room." This was as the entry buzzer went off.

"Problems?" Daron transferred his attention from the image of a very sleek yacht that would have Big Luis drooling.

"I hope not. But someone is buzzing to get into the dressing room."

*****

Chapter 45

The verbal abuse Mitra intended to deliver to whomever was adding to her problems died in her throat. Rori was standing there looking totally helpless and holding little Tori who was screaming himself purple.

"I'm sorry!" Rori raised his voice to be heard above Tori. "But he won't take a bottle, and if he keeps this kind of screaming up, he'll have breathing trouble again." Tori had had a couple episodes like that.

"Come in then." Mitra went to step aside, but Rori shook his head, shoving the screaming Tori at her.

"Mai wouldn't like that. I'll wait." His wife had made it clear that the children were his problem tonight no matter what happened, and she did not intend to so much as answer any calls from him. He was not going through that door.

"Coach Kael –" The name came from a dozen of the reporters crowding behind Rori.

"Not now!" Mitra snapped, trying to keep Tori from squirming out of her hands.

"But –"

"Is that –"

"What –"

The questions created a cacophony.

"Anton will see three of you in the press room!" Mitra turned and shut the door.

"Uh, Mitra." Joran had come to see what was going on. "There's a hundred or so networks and press agencies out there." Since it was a charity game, all the networks he'd dealt with trying to find a crew had decided, with due pressure from him and the promise of publicity and compensation of course, to share the signal.

"Then they can draw lots!" Mitra was only worried about little Tori who was starting to hiccup funny like he was choking. "Mai!"

Mai arrived at a run. "You!" She took the screaming bundle. "What's wrong little guy?"

Tori was crying too hard to see but he recognized the voice and touch. Now he had what he wanted, security and dinner. Everything was wrong. There were strange faces, strange places, strange sounds. The air smelt funny. He was not in his loose comfortable sleep suit but something tight and wrong feeling. And ... Tori's mind could not describe weightlessness. He just knew he wanted no part of it. But maybe his mother could make everything right. He tried to quit screaming to manage to nurse, but the screaming fit had a lot of momentum. It took quite a few heartbroken sobs to subside. Then he shifted to his 'I'm hungry' repertoire.

"So you're hungry, are you Tori?" Mai was largely translating for the benefit of the rest of the room. She pressed a finger to Tori's lips which he started sucking greedily. "You know, it's Daddy's turned to feed you lunch." Rori had a bottle of milk from her breast pump.

Tori didn't see it that way, and dinner wasn't happening fast enough. He bunched up his face and started screaming again.

"Okay. That's it! Back to Daddy." Mai started for the door.

Tori may not have understood the words, but he got the intent. He doubled his volume and started hiccuping again, fighting for breath.

"Mai, just feed him before he hurts himself." It was Torin, looking worried about his nephew.

"Torin! I'm half suited up!" But Mai was worried too. She'd never seen Tori so upset.

"So, unsuit!"

"I think you'd better," Trevarr was close enough to see Tori now. "He's hitting breathing problems."

Something was definitely wrong. Trevarr studied little Tori. Until now he had shown no preference for one parent over another and Rori had taken care of him for one full day when they were busy at the clinic and it was slack at the marina.

"Once he's calmed down, have Rori take him out to the rim of the space station where there is rotational pseudo gravity. That might feel more familiar to him. Wayd can keep an eye on your girls." Trevarr already had his compad in his hand calling Wayd's number. "If that doesn't work Rori had better go to the clinic here. And if that doesn't work either someone from the clinic can accompany them back planetside."

***

Daron listened to the events and chaos in disbelief. Then he shook his head. "Knett. Don't fight me. I'm calling Isley or we'll never be in the court."

"Whatever you say. You're the boss."

Daron grinned. "Since when?" He placed the call.

"Isley. Can you spare Eddy?"

Isley had tensed at the call from Daron, but he relaxed a little seeing the animation in Daron's face. That sounded like the old Daron too, to couch what was more or less a command in the form of a question. Isley turned the volume up for the benefit of the players.

"What's the matter Daron? Are you finding out that there's a lot more than you thought to getting a team in the court?" He wouldn't deny Daron's request of course. He'd already signaled Eddy to go, and Eddy was at the door just waiting for Daron to finish.

"You don't help me and we won't get to the court! That dressing room is pure chaos, and Mai just had to strip to feed little Tori. And she's one of the few organized ones!" Daron rolled his eyes and heard the laughter of his teammates.

*****

Chapter 46

Hidi's eyes were at their widest, her smile its sweetest. "Jorj, I've noticed all night you and Kenof have been referring to Daron as Daron." Things were settling down into the jock groove again. Time to liven them up.

"It's his name, Hidi," Kenof said stiffly.

"But I –"

Hidi was turning into a real pain. Jorj cut in, "We're using it out of deference to the fact there is a lady present."

Hidi recrossed her legs in the other direction maximizing the slit skirt effect, moved a strand of hair, and purred, "And that's very sweet of you, Jorj, but you know, we all call him Superstud, just like you jocks."

Hidi was asking for it. "And who's 'we', Hidi?"

"Daron's women. Who do you think started the nickname anyway?" Her eyes were even wider if possible. "It wasn't the jocks. They just started to use it to tease him because that's what they heard his women calling him. You know," she smiled helpfully, "you're waiting for Daron after a game and you say 'Great game, Superstud! I hope you didn't wear yourself out.'"

She waited long enough for it to become obvious neither man intended to pick up the ball in this particular conversation, then turned her attention to the camera.

"And all of you ladies out there who are real Superstud fans, how about sending him a get well message? I've set up an account at the network. Just send a message to 'Get back in action soon Superstud' and I promise it will be passed on unread. But nothing kinky," Hidi added sternly. "Daron is strictly a champagne and flowers type, which is why we all love him, isn't it? But holograms are great if they aren't too racy. We'll keep you posted on the message count as the game progresses."

***

Krysta looked at Hidi's frozen image, biting her lip. Yes, that was the way it was, wasn't it? We all love Superstud. She was just one of hundreds of girls he'd had. She'd stopped the holovision with Hidi in a flattering pose, sexy and glamorous. She'd heard some of her coworkers say Hidi was Daron's regular girl. How could she have imagined Daron cared about her with a girlfriend like that?

A little voice said, yes, but it was you he moved into his portel room. And he tagged along on all the domestic stuff that must have bored him. He had Ranga sketch you. Krysta had been alternating between reliving those hours, staring at the sketch Ranga had given her of Daron, and worrying terribly. No one had told her a thing about how he was. How could they? She hadn't given anyone contact information. Even now she didn't know much more, except that he was well enough to be 'coaching'. There hadn't been a single current image of him.

Well, even if she was just one of hundreds, Daron truly was special. She would send a message to the address Hidi just gave. It would be terrible to have a chance to wish him a good recovery and not take it. He'd never see the message of course. He'd get those millions. But she would have tried.

***

Knett looked at Daron. His eyes were closed and he was obviously trying desperately to suppress emotion, but Knett couldn't decide if it was laughter or tears.

"I take it Hidi didn't warn you about that move?"

Daron opened his eyes and it was obvious the emotion was laughter.

"Not a word, bless her." He started to laugh and shut his eyes again. "Damn! That hurts!" Daron tried again. "It's just that I've never seen anyone shut Jorj and Kenof up before. They can spend more time saying nothing than any other two windbags on the networks." He gestured helplessly. "The look on their faces!" He shut his eyes again.

"Well," Knett said dryly, "you'll have interesting messages for a month or so.

***

Kenof was the first to recover. "I'm sure Daron – Superstud – will appreciate that." Actually, Kenof was suppressing a grin only because Jorj, his boss, looked furious. Daron would love it! Kenof found himself wondering just how unethical it would be to take a look at some of the images since Hidi had said the files would not be opened.

Jorj was putting a fast end to things. "Moving on to right defense, that position is being shared by Arn Torson and Mrail. Our sports fans will remember Arn from the Genie circuit. Like Jon Melcrist, he was lured from the circuit to fly the Allegro for Anton." There were a series of racing clips.

"And Hidi, what can you add about Mrail?"

"Daron says he's a good at defense in the pickup games, and of course he's the rising star in romantic ballads." Hidi cued clips from Bojo's current tour. She did not mention the possibility that his marriage was on the rocks. Joran had let that slip in a strategy session when Trevarr had asked if Brys would be at the game since all of the rest of CBLV-WhiteCaps were in Crescent Bay. Joran had looked warily at him, then said no, Brys was still on a job on another planet. Hidi liked both Bojo and Brys, so afterwards she asked Joran if there were problems. He'd said the career stress of going solo as Mrail was causing Bojo's old problems from his accident to act up, and he and Brys were giving each other a little space.

Hidi knew that if she intended to progress in her career, she had to keep on and off camera straight. But being around celebrities more and more made that a memory test at times.

Jorj said, "Then we have a little lady again. Rhea Enlis is playing left defense. Again, sports fans will recognize Rhea as Eli's partner on the Genie circuit." There followed more racing cuts. "I wonder how it feels for them to be on the same team again."

Kenof and Hidi looked at each other and let that one pass. Either Jorj had forgotten Eli and Rhea's love affair and his marriage required by the Tribe for genetic management, or he'd just put his foot in his mouth. Either way, they weren't joining him.

"And in goal – wait a minute, we've got a live feed of Anton from the locker room."

***

Joran felt like a total idiot. He was wearing chest and shoulder pads over his unitard but not his full Octagla uniform, a sweatband which was something he'd never worn on camera, and no ear studs. He'd never faced a camera without at least ear studs. Then as he was on his way out the door, Torin had grinned and dumped half a bottle of water over his hair. For luck, Torin said. Torin had also 'accidentally' splashed about another third of the bottle onto his unitard. So now Joran had the choice of being even later and changing his unitard, or starting the game uncomfortably wet already, not after he'd worked up a sweat.

Now he was sitting on an exercise machine in a faked up locker room.

"Anton, are you nervous about playing Tamara?"

Okay. That was easy, honesty would even work. "No. Why should I be? We play pickup with them all the time, and this is just a pickup game."

"Pickup? Even with that stacked line Daron and Torin put together?"

"That's just friends having fun. Now," Joran said firmly," I'm out of here. Game time!"

***

"That's the attitude here," Jorj said, "all for fun. And Anton isn't the only one running out of time. So quickly, the other left defense is Chett Linderson. Kenof, do you know him?"

Kenof nodded. "I've been in the court with him a few times. He's popular on the pickup circuit, and he's some kind of geek."

"He's popular for more than Octagla pickup." Hidi blew a kiss at the camera. "Chett, I'll say hi to you from your lady fans."

Jorj gave her another repressive look. "From the Anton Band Perry and Ico will sub where needed. Their SoundMaster Timoth will share goaltending with another geek, Leeth. Now, those are two brave men. An average shot speed from Tamara –"

He was cut off by the pre-game buzzer signaling the teams to enter the Octagla court.

***

Mitra jumped at the buzzer, and Joran led the team laughing at her.

"Let's do it!"

"Let's do it for Daron!"

***

Larr rose to his feet. "All right, let's do it!"

"Let's do it, for Daron!"

*****

Chapter 47

This was ridiculous! Larr looked at the Pickups carefully lined up for introductions, helmets off, and looking just plain scared like they had never been on holovision before. As for Ranga, he'd made it out of the toilet and was in line, but Larr doubted he would survive one shift at this rate. Daron could read faces – he didn't need this. For that matter, Larr knew he didn't need it either.

Abruptly he stepped out of line, not giving the announcer time to open his mouth and start the introductions. Who needed them? You even saw Chett's image all the time on the business news. Hand outstretched he headed for his father.

"Rall. Good to see you here." Larr could see his father's eyes searching his face. Then Rall extended his hand.

"Wanted one chance to suit up with you," he said gruffly.

Larr blinked. He'd been sure he didn't even enter the equation, that this was a favor to Torin. "How about a beer after – be a little late for the press party?"

Big Luis was fastest on the uptake. That looked a lot like a private family moment being recorded for posterity by every network in the galaxy. "Handshake time!" he called down the line, wishing they all still had their helmets on so he could use intercoms and say more. "I'm first in line for Torin!"

***

They didn't seem to be going to face off in a hurry Maras decided. Everybody was kind of bunched up on the "floor" shaking hands and laughing a lot, and yapping like they was nervous. It had all started like a regular game, lining up to get introduced. But then Larr had stepped across and shook his dad's hand. Then everybody were out of line and talking.

Maras was standing on the edge of the crowd, a frown on his face while he tried to decide what to do. He'd always hoped someday he might meet Rall. To be quite honest, he'd hoped it might be some distant glorious day when there was a big fancy supper and he was going into the Octagla Hall of Fame, and after supper Rall came up to shake hands and say hello. Neither was much likely to happen, he knew, but it was a favorite fantasy. Now Rall was there, not five meters away. Maras would really like to go up and shake hands, but Larr were talking to his dad, and Larr were grinning, so maybe he shouldn't screw it up.

A solid clout on his right shoulder interrupted the reverie. "Hey, Maras! Smile. This is for fun, remember?"

The frown changed to a real, slow smile that spread across his face as he turned. "Rhea." He surveyed the stocky blonde in her defense gear. "You look real good."

It had taken Maras quite some time to come to grips with Rhea. She confused him. If even a tenth of the talk going around about her and that old partner of hers, Eli Heron, were true, she was worse than some of Daron's women. For sure, she wasn't at all like what he thought of as 'nice women' like his mother or Mai who were married and raising families. He couldn't imagine Rhea with a family. But she were smart, and a real hard worker. She'd put as much effort into that Genie racing career as he had in his Octagla, and he admired Genie pilots. And now she had a real responsible job with Joran. She didn't act like what he thought of as 'the other' kind of women either. She didn't play up to men or nothin' like that. In fact, she talked and acted like a regular guy. Eventually, tired of being confused, Maras had given up and that was how he thought of and treated her, like one of the guys.

"And you look truly awesome," Rhea returned. She still wasn't quite used to Maras all geared up and close enough to touch.

That embarrassed Maras as much as it pleased him, so he shifted ground. "You been practicing them moves I showed you?"

"Sure have." Rhea laughed. "I showed them to Joran and he said there was no way I was using any of them on anyone with AntonCorp. He was not risking having his band in the hospital. He said that they might come in handy in a rough spaceport sometime though."

Maras chuckled. That were Joran all right. He looked to where Joran had his arm around Torin and was talking to Rundell and Big Luis.

"But," Rhea's eyes were full of mischief, "Daron says I'm free to check Red any way I want."

The chuckle turned into Maras's loud rumbling laugh. "He would." That was one of the few things he and Daron agreed on. They couldn't stand Red. This sounded real interesting, like Daron had something good cooked up. Maras good-naturedly returned Rhea's clout to the shoulder.

Rhea surreptitiously flexed her right shoulder. Well, it still more or less worked and she'd ask for that, hadn't she? "So, what were you thinking about so hard?" That had been Maras's thinking frown. She would never have disturbed him if it had been his angry frown. No one in their right mind would have.

"Rall."

Rhea nodded sympathetically. "Not looking forward to going up on the roof to check him?" She personally didn't disorient easily after all the years of flying with the hull transparent and with star fields all around her, but she felt sorry for those that did.

"Nah. That's okay."

Maras's eyes went to his hero, and his expression became so adoring Rhea could read it easily. Rhea filed away the fact Maras didn't seem to be at all upset about a roof runner, and wondered if she should tell Mitra. She decided not – Mitra would just tell Daron, and he might freak. Instead she focused on Maras's expression.

"Have you met Rall yet?"

Maras shook his head. "Didn't know he were here till we was on the space station gearing up."

"He's only been in town since late last night. I think he gave in to Torin at the last minute and Eli broke every rule in the book getting them here in time. We were all ready to play without him. Then I got the message from Eli that they'd made it. I couldn't believe it, he was actually in the dressing room for our practice this morning! I walked straight up to him and asked if I could have his autograph."

"What did he say?" Maras asked curiously. What he wouldn't give for Rall's autograph. His dad would frame it and put it on the bar wall, and tell all the regulars Maras had sent it.

"He said sure, if he could have mine." Rhea had been watching Maras's face. Without asking she turned and yelled, "Hey, Rall! Come meet your biggest fan." She was grinning as she said it. Rhea loved word plays and that 'biggest' was pretty good. It would go right past Maras of course, and it looked like it went past Rall too, but Larr gave her an appreciative grin back.

Rall turned, glad of the interruption. He was fast running out of things to say to his son. He closed the distance, hand outstretched. "Maras. I've been keeping an eye on you this season. You're looking good."

Maras was suddenly living in that fantasy and all the wonderful words he'd worked out just in case it ever came true totally fled his mind. He settled for trying to crush Rall's ungloved hand instead.

"Mai," Mitra left the intercom set for the whole team and turned it to max volume so they could hear it with helmets off. "Tori seems fine. Rori took him out of his unitard at the rim. He has him just wrapped in a little blanket and is holding him and he's sleeping. He said to tell you they are at the clinic just in case, but the physician there thinks it was either the unitard or weightlessness, not anything physiological."

"Thanks, Mitra" She could relax then, and focus on the game.

*****

Chapter 48

It wasn't because Red was wearing his Tamara uniform. Mai trained the guys in their uniforms. It wasn't knowing there were cameras. Trevarr routinely recorded training sessions. It was the noise. The shouts of the crowd, good natured 'Tamara' alternating with 'Pickups' and the odd 'Gingezel' and 'Crescent Bay' mixed in. This was real!

Mai's pulse quickened as Dreen positioned himself to release the ball for the first face-off. She had the advantage. In training and conditioning she had studied each of Red's moves in detail. On the other hand she might as well be a stranger for all the attention he had given her. Her stick slid along his. An unexpected acceleration of that move, a wrist twist. She had the ball! In one fluid motion Mai passed to Roban letting the follow through hit Red. She wasn't sure where, she just heard him swear as she watched Roban start working up the court with Joran playing it safe closer to him than Ranga would have.

Roban saw Rundell and Big Luis grinning as they positioned themselves to block him, and suppressed his own smile. He and Daron figured they had three, maybe four soft goals while Tamara was trying not to hurt the musicians.

Big Luis started his commentary. "Here comes Roban. Looking to get thrown out of this game too? I'm game. Okay Mercan, you got Joran? Mai is breaking to Maras. He can have her. Rundell and I have Roban... Oops! Focus Maras."

Roban made an easy behind the back pass to Mai as Maras was still closing in on her. But Mai only kept the ball long enough to line up her pass. Then she snapped it to Joran who had used the momentary confusion to max out his jet pack and get past Mercan.

All he had to do was get past Big Luis Joran told himself. Only one problem, Big Luis looked like a big mean space transport floating there. Did he trust Daron's reassurance that Big Luis wouldn't hurt him? Hell no, but what fun was the game going to be playing coward? Joran accelerated on another burst of jets, setting a close to collision course. At the last moment he shifted the jets' direction for maximum torque and angled his body in a dangerous stage move a choreographer had taught him. He'd tried it twice weightless in a pickup game. Wild! But the control... iffy. Joran made the shot praying that all those classical dynamics courses he'd taken were right. Then he rolled even further than the stage move had taken him when he used it before with Big Luis' 'token' check that hurt like hell.

The goal light went on. Joran stared in total disbelief. The shot had been perfect to the upper left corner and it had gone in!

Mercan caught up, grinning at Joran's expression. "You expect to totally miss the goal with that wild roll you did?" He could still remember his first goal in a real game, not practice or pickup. It was so sweet.

Joran managed to shake his head. "No, I always hit the goalie."

That was a major limitation when the Joran played Octagla. He had a good eye and an accurate shot. What the reflex part of his brain just refused to grasp was that he was supposed to hit the small gaps of empty space, not that nice big solid mass called a goalie.

When Joran and Timoth had explained that to Daron and Roban at a strategy session, and they had finally stopped laughing, they decided to only play Joran when Mikey was in goal for Tamara. That let Joran have a chance at scoring. As Daron explained, Mikey was a real fidgety hot dog. The way he moved around Joran had reasonable odds of missing him. And he had.

Suddenly everyone was crowding around pounding on him and shouting. Joran tensed. The couple of times security had slipped up and he had ended up in a mob scene at a concert he hadn't handled it well. His instinct was to fight out of the mob. But this was different, he decided. It felt like clowning around with the guys on stage at a concert. Joran let himself relax and just hugged everyone back, laughing like an idiot.

At last he made it to the team box. "Not bad, huh, coach?

Mitra's eyes were dancing and she was all smiles. Before she could even open her mouth to agree with Joran that this was a great start to the game, she was being lifted up for a bear hug and a five-star kiss that had more viewers hitting the replay button than the first goal of the game had.

***

Red just didn't have the focus Mai decided as she took the face-off. She didn't have time for more than that fleeting thought before she passed hard and high to Jon Melcrist. Now that man was an athlete! Compact, coordinated, solid muscle. Mai allowed herself a moment to watch Jon move closer to the wall before she gave Mercan a butt end to buy some breathing space. Then Mai jetted into the Tamara end.

He really should play Octagla more and spend less time competing one-on-one with the environment, skiing, hang gliding, white water kayaking. This was great! Jon gave his stick an additional twist to keep the ball from jarring out of the net as he started to run the wall. He made three strides, then Ranga was on the wall too, moving in fast. Larr wasn't far behind him, and Maras had shifted to cover this wall action. Perfect. Jon risked a quick look to where Mai, Trevarr, and Joran were crowded together in the middle of the Tamara end, all ready for his pass. But the play was pre-determined. It was time to see what Maras did to Mai.

The hard pass to the center of her net made this 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. Mai focused on the massive man in front of her. Daron was right. Maras didn't know what to do. It showed in his eyes, in the lines of his body. Mai used him as a screen and scored, lower right.

The next goal was just as easy for her.

***

Enough of that Mai! Red was learning her tricks, that little jerk she gave to her stick. He was ready for it and took the fourth face-off. He snapped a fast pass to Rundell near the wall and got another elbow in the face for his efforts. Thanks Mai! This is a friendly game. You can clean up your act any time.

Rundell took the play into the Pickup end, taking it easy on his arm and wrist. After all, this was just for fun. Okay, Mercan was in position. Rundell made the pass. What the hell? How did Rhea get there that fast? And the check she gave Mercan was as vicious and dirty as any Maras used, just with less mass behind it. Rundell watched in disbelief as the ball went wild, careening off the walls.

Kit, who was just changing out of the box to give Joran a rest, murmured into his helmet intercom, "This one is mine."

A burst of jets, a twist, another burst, a stretch to the limits of his reach, and Kit netted the ball. A fast behind the back pass to Roban, and the play was on. Kit, Jon, and Roban worked into the Tamara end. Kit and Jon knew this pressure play from their juvenile years as well as Roban did from being pro. They worked forward with easy rhythm, passing back and forth like a well seasoned pro line, picking up the pace as they closed in on the goal.

"You caught it, your goal," Roban murmured as he snapped an even faster pass to Kit.

How was Big Luis positioned? Okay, if he took the hit and used it for torque, like Joran but less wild... Kit moved within Big Luis' reach. Oof! That man could hit! Kit rolled with the blow. All right! Now! The bounce shot almost hit Mikey's foot as it went in.

Pickups 4 Tamara 0

Kit jetted back to the box, leaned in, and gave Mitra a fleeting kiss. "For luck." He winked at her. Then the team was there pounding on him.

***

Tamara was clustered around Big Luis. Isley had told them to keep this game casual and take it easy on the Pickups. Let the Pickups look good. They'd agreed. Don't stress Daron. They'd agreed. Their intercoms were off because Isley was not welcome as part of this conversation.

"One more elbow to the face, and Joran get his own back!" Mercan swore in four dialects.

"How did Rhea learn to check like that?" Red wanted to know.

"Maras," Larr said economically, watching the players by the Pickup bench breaking up. In a couple of seconds Isley would be giving them instructions, so they had better have their intercoms back on. "We tighten it up?"

His teammates nodded in complete accord.

*****

Chapter 49

Mai took the face-off again, but she could feel the sweat drench her as she jetted into the Tamara end. Fatigue hit a second later. To hell with the play they'd just setup. She couldn't do it. Mai jetted straight at Maras on a collision course, just daring him to belt her hard enough to do any good, knowing he wouldn't.

Pickups 5 Tamara 0

Mai didn't hang around for the hugging and shouting. They could congratulate her at the bench.

"Torin! Spell me off!"

He hesitated, looking at Mitra. Daron hadn't planned for him to go in this early. And would it be him and the dream team like they planned? Or just him?

Mitra took a look at the slick of sweat on Mai's slightly green face and didn't ask Daron. "Switch. Rall, you're out there too. The full line."

A slow smile replaced the uncertainty on Torin's face. This would be just great!

***

"What's going on?" Daron demanded of Knett. "Let me talk to Mitra!"

"Hey, Mai might be an ex-pro but little Tori wasn't born many weeks ago. Let her call things herself." Knett offered Daron a lite beer as he moved Daron's communications center further out of reach. "Now, be like the rest of the galaxy and watch this one."

***

Despite his dressing room lecture, Isley was worried as he watched Larr position himself facing Rall. But he couldn't see a thing except concentration. What the hell were Rall and Torin doing out there anyways? But Isley had his answer. Despite telling Rall he was crazy last night, now that the game had started Isley knew he'd be out there himself except for that damned knee. His pulse quickened.

Torin took the face-off like Red was a rookie, and no one fooled around. They headed into the Tamara end full jets. As Mercan moved in on him, Torin passed to Rall who headed toward the roof. Then there was a gasp from the crowd as Eli moved up to join him, loping along the with easy grace of the Tribe.

Meanwhile Roban and Torin jetted down the central court. Jon was slightly ahead of them, his job to run interference to free up Roban who was the alternative to Rall for this goal if Rall didn't like the angles up there on the roof.

Hell, someone had to do something with two of them up on the roof. Larr pushed down an instinct to panic, told himself it was time to grow up, and joined the roof runners. It wasn't the way he'd expected, feared. He didn't particularly like it, but there wasn't the nausea or disorientation he had known as a teen. Larr started closing the gap between himself and his father.

Rall didn't see him. His entire shocked focus was on Maras who had moved up to the roof, his face one big grin of anticipation at the prospect of stopping his hero on the roof.

Larr's mid-back check to Rall was not hard. He couldn't bring himself to really belt his dad. But it was strong enough to jar the ball loose. Larr's reflexes were faster. He netted it, a split second ahead of Rall who gave him a vicious stick check for his efforts. It didn't manage to knock the ball loose though, and Larr grinned at his dad as he twisted his stick to resettle the ball again. A quick look at the players jamming close to the roof confirmed there wasn't a clear route to jet down. He checked with his stomach, pivoted, and ran. Rall's age showed there. He was slower. And Eli had too much distance to close. Arn came up to cover him, but it was too late. Larr scored lower right on Leeth.

The crowd at the Octagla court and those in millions of arenas and sports bars across the galaxy exploded. Larr had scored roof running against his father, against Rall! They hit the replay button as Tamara piled on Larr as he left the roof.

The body jam parted as Rall approached. The expression on his face said everything he hadn't over the years. He stopped for a moment, awkward, then gathered his son into a bear hug.

***

Play got tight. The next goal was about five minutes later. Everyone was focused on Torin, expecting him to either score himself, or to pass off to Rall again. But at the last second he made the handoff to Trevarr who was doing a utility shift outer right. Trevarr got a perfect low bounce screened shot off, and he knew enough to hit the open space, not Tarell.

Trevarr came back to the Gingezel box grinning. "Talk about luck on the screening!"

"You mean talent," Mitra said loyally. Trevarr was surprising her by turning out to be the modest one on the team. She gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Thanks, coach."

There was a moment of hesitation and something she couldn't read in his eyes, then Mitra found herself being picked up and given a kiss that was close competition to Joran's.

"Just keeping up the team tradition," Trevarr said lightly as he released her and turned to head out and finish the shift. Then he stopped abruptly and grabbed for Mitra who was floating away. "Whoa! You aren't used to weightlessness are you?" He carefully positioned her with her feet stuck to the wall and took off.

Mitra watched his back bemused, dizzy, and fairly confused.

Mai's matter of fact voice said softly in her ear, "Trevarr has always liked women just fine. We just aren't his first choice."

"Oh," Mitra let that one pass and focused on the game.

When Torin did score about ninety seconds later he thoroughly approved of this new tradition and she found herself lifted up for another kiss. This time she managed to resettle herself by grabbing Chett who was standing beside her well adhered to the wall.

"I'm going to have to figure out how to score a goal as a defenseman," he teased.

"Forget it, Chett!"

Dreen made a point of walking past the box a few minutes later. He was staying on the walls leaving the free space to the players as much as he could. He was smiling. He hadn't seen Mitra this excited and having this much fun in a long time.

Mitra decided he looked very much the authority figure with his gray frosted hair and referee uniform.

"So who's bright idea is the new performance incentive? Yours or Superstud's?" Grinning he didn't wait for an answer.

*****

Chapter 50

"Are you fine for the second period, Mai?" Mitra asked.

The Tamara team was handling the press during this between periods break, the teams were sharing half time, and Joran and Torin were doing the last break. So every last set of eyes on the team turned to stare at Mai.

Mai mopped sweat with a towel, leaving putting a dry unitard on until the last second. "Oh yeah. Just spell me off a little more frequently than we planned. I want to see what Maras finally does."

***

"Me too," Daron echoed with a grin.

"You're cruel," Knett observed, but he wanted to see it too.

***

Now that they weren't getting coddled like a bunch of babies this game was really starting to be fun. Joran was focused on Rundell, who in fact seemed to have decided both to play uncomfortably close and to make himself a first-class nuisance. Once this play was over, this guy was going to learn to back off! Joran tried to decide which Dreen was most likely to write off as amateur clumsiness and not call as a penalty – an elbow or a butt end.

Not of course that he could complain. The real hazards, those two brutes of defensemen were totally focused on Mai. Not that she, or any of them for that matter, were in serious danger of getting hurt. It had been decided before hand that no one, including the Tamara team with the rematch with Pendrae looming needed real injuries. But those guys could make you not want to get out of bed for a couple of days just from habit.

And right now Joran figured both defensemen were getting short tempered. So far, while not exactly babying Mai, Maras and Big Luis had been trying to be gentlemen. Neither particularly wanted to be the first one to really ring this cute little doll's bell on a broadcast on every last network in the galaxy. It wasn't like they didn't know Mai and just how dirty she was from what was now their annual conditioning and training sessions, but apparently they had assumed she'd clean up her act for this game. Daron had hoped that was what they'd figure. Joran knew because he had been at that convoluted strategy session.

Mai was still pushing it for all it was worth, and it had been Daron's estimate that tempers would go about halfway through the second period. At the moment Joran wasn't giving it that long. Maras would lose his temper first, and Mai would get her bell rung but good. The strategy was that then they'd put in Torin who had mostly been on the bench and was fresh. That mostly on the bench part hadn't worked out. Torin had been playing a lot more than Daron had planned, but he was holding up well.

Joran was intensely aware it was approaching halfway through the second period as he passed off to Roban, letting the follow-through connect solidly with Rundell's ribs.

Okay, Joran. If that's the way you want to play it. Rundell responded with a borderline legal cross-check and moved right back in to play close.

Joran gritted his teeth trying to ignore what would be purple bruises tomorrow, wondering if the butt end had been worth it. These pros were damned good at not being given a penalty by the referee. Come on Dreen, usually you're there when I need you.

Having netted the ball, Roban was setting Mai up for one last shot, working himself into position for that perfect pass that would give Mai another goal and make his defensemen buddies look like idiots again. Only he wasn't.

They had worked this out carefully before hand. The actual pass would come to Joran, not Mai. And that was what Joran was doing right now, positioning himself for that pass. This was the part of the game he loved, playing the audience. You were thinking, you were planning, but the audience only saw what you wanted them to see. If you wanted to deceive them, you did. And if you wanted to surprise them, you didn't telegraph. You did it.

Right now, it was an audience of one. One right winger, Rundell, who hadn't like the butt end, didn't seem to think that his cross-check had more than evened the score, and wouldn't get out of his face. Joran applied a shoulder, then when there was enough room added a solid cross-check of his own. Great! That gave him moving room. Full jets time! Rundell had obviously taken offense at the two dirty checks. Tough. Dreen hadn't called them, and Rundell had to catch him first. Joran applied some torque to swerve, just in case Rundell was faster than he thought. Move Roban, move it! Make that pass while Big Luis is just there ...

It was a stretch, but Joran netted the ball. And he could use his torque...

Joran took his shot. It was perfect, lower left corner.

Rundell was closing in to say a few things about the cross-check, to say nothing of the butt end. Joran could damned well clean up his play in this 'friendly' game any time! His expression changed to a grin. Joran was staring at the goal with an expression of dazed delight. He gave Joran a good-natured clout on the shoulder.

"You expect to hit Mikey?" They'd all had a good chuckle about that in the dressing room.

"I tried," Joran laughed. "He moved."

***

"Mai!" Maras had his helmet off and tucked under his arm, and his voice held a real note of grievance. "This is supposed to be a friendly game."

Mai removed her helmet too, in the time-honored tradition of a member of the opposing team quite happy to get in a fight. It was rather like a chihuahua getting ready to bite a doberman's ankle.

In his hospital bed Daron said 'Shit!' and a few million viewers called to friends and spouses who had wandered off after the goal in search of food or to go to the toilet to 'Come here! Now!'

"So, do I look unfriendly?" Mai asked. She was still having a wonderful time, and it showed. Her face was glowing in one delighted smile.

"No," Maras conceded. "I'm the one starting to feel unfriendly. You's making me look dumb. We keep this up, the score could be about 600 to 20 for you Pickups."

"So, do your job," Mai suggested reasonably.

"I can't hit a woman hard." There was a real note of anguish in his voice.

"Then start thinking of 600 to 20 as a nice friendly score."

"Mai!" Maras's features were cloudy now. His fans had seen him hospitalize members of the opposing team looking less upset.

"Mitra," Daron said, "send Torin out there to get her to move. Right now! I know we said we'd push it until Maras really hit her, but he's losing his temper." Mai was really risking getting hurt.

Mitra nodded agreement and motioned for Torin to go out. Mai caught the motion in the corner of her eye, turned, and waved him back.

"What do I do?" Torin demanded of Mitra and Mitra demanded of Daron simultaneously.

"Give Mai a minute." Daron prayed he was right.

Joran and Trevarr who had set Mai up for the goal started edging closer to their teammate, just in case.

"Maras," Mai said, trying to be helpful, "don't think of me as a woman. I'm just the opposing center."

"Send your brother out," Maras countered.

"Not on my shift!"

"Mai, I warned you!" Maras turned towards the bench to talk to Isley.

"And that was sweet of you." Mai hopped up off the court floor to plant a kiss on the half averted cheek.

Maras turned a purplish shade under his black skin, scowled even harder, and kept going. Damned women. Nothin' but trouble. Now what were he gonna do?

Roban, Joran, Kit, and Trevarr converged on Mai, starting a heads together whispering conversation, intercoms off.

At the Tamara bench Maras and Coach Isley were having a conversation that was starting to involve a lot of arm waving by Maras.

Torin gave Mitra a questioning look.

"Well?" she asked Daron. "What are they doing?"

He was watching the little cluster too, trying unsuccessfully to lip read, wishing they had not turned off their intercoms. What was going on out there? If they thought no sound was less stress they were wrong! It broke up to grins and backslapping all around, and Roban made a thumb up gesture Daron had learned to trust.

"Who knows, but let them try it. Just keep Torin ready on the bench."

***

Although they broke apart with a slapping of hands, Joran had to admit he was nervous, something he rarely was on stage. But he had never set up an Octagla play that really mattered before, mattered because one of his good friends could get hurt. The idea was that he would use his acting ability to telegraph to Maras that he was bringing the ball up and setting Mai up for yet another goal. Well, he'd try.

Mai tried, but she was nervier than she was admitting. She did not get the face-off. It wasn't even close.

Red carried the play into the Pickup end. This was more like it. He missed Roban calling the play though. Isley, calling from the bench, didn't have quite the same perspective as someone in the court. Yes, that angle was good. Red passed off to Rundell who was setting himself up to move around Chett.

"The play is mine," Roban murmured, wanting to keep Joran focussed on his role. On a burst of full jets Roban closed in Rundell, knocking the ball free with a vicious stick check that sent it bouncing off the wall.

Damn. That check jarred his bad wrist. Using his good arm, Rundell gave Roban a bit of his own back.

Chett surprised himself – he netted the ball before Mercan could, which was a good thing. Leeth was weak on shots from this angle. Where was Roban? Chett knew he could and should pass to Joran, but since this wasn't going as planned he'd better let the pro take control. Mm... Busy in a shoving match with Rundell. Now what the hell did he do? Chett shifted position like he was preparing to pass to Joran. Might pass to Joran. No, it was fine. They were breaking up. It was not a clear pass but Roban could probably net it. Chett put his mass into it.

Not bad, Chett. Roban grinned. He'd had low, almost outside his reach passes like that from both Big Luis and Maras. Roban settled the ball and started slowly taking the play back into the Tamara end, stalling as much as he could while his teammates positioned themselves. Okay. Trevarr and Kit were well into the Tamara end. Joran was looking good, actually a meter clear of Rundell. Roban made the pass to Joran and they were back in the game plan.

"Do it!" Roban murmured into the intercom.

Mai kept jetting in, giving Maras a sweet smile.

Women! Never listened when you wanted them to. Maras clenched his teeth. Weren't gonna really ring her bell like a guy, but weren't gonna just shove her either. 'Nuf were 'nuf. But his mind kept chewing on one question. How did you check a woman across the chest without hitting breasts? He kept thinking about that cute little guy she were nursing now. Tori what got sick and his daddy had to take him away. Should'a watched harder some women's game. Couldn't hit low. Mai were too little. He'd get soft tissue. Well. She got brains. Must have enough pads on.

Joran kept working his way in, his attention focused on Mai, and the upset Maras. Rundell wasn't crowding him now. Either Roban had set his arm back a bit, or he was worried about Mai and figured given breathing space Joran would take the shot himself. Well, keep that audience of one, Rundell guessing.

That's right Mai. Keep going. Please, let this work! Joran made his pass, accurate and as hard as he could manage. Not to Mai but past Mai, to Kit positioned one degree of arc beyond Mai close to the wall. The audience himself now, Joran watched as Maras moved to check Mai. In that split second she pulled her stick in, letting the pass go on to Kit. Joran grimaced. Of course it had to be Kit who got to play the hero.

Stay focused, Kit told himself. Ignore Mai and Maras! There is nothing you can do there. In one fluid motion he caught the ball, lifted his stick back, and calmly took his shot. No one, including Arrof was watching. He aimed upper right. Arrof realized his mistake and was moving but he was too late. Kit thought, I hope you like this one, Daron.

With no pass to catch, Mai was totally focused on Maras. As the check came, she accentuated the twist she'd started pretending to take the pass. The check connected. She knew it would, but it was not a straight on blow. She converted as much of it as she could to angular momentum. The goal buzzer sounded as she went into a tight spin, twirling well out of Maras's way. Then she spreadeagled like an ice dancer, a move that would help her slowdown.

It helped, but the court was still spinning past at quite a rate. Maras had a lot more force behind his check than a woman.

"Hey! Somebody slow me down!"

Maras was closest and he obligingly grabbed a leg as it went past his face. "Where'd you learn to do that?" he demanded as he steadied her.

"It was a standard move for the pro women about twenty-five years ago, but it dropped out of style." Mai said this in a slightly abstracted voice because she was reasonably sure Maras was holding her steady but the Octagla court was still moving. "My aunt taught me."

Maras had noticed the slightly glazed look. "You okay?"

"I will be when my inner ears stop sloshing around."

Maras raised his voice. "Hey, Trevarr, come give Mai a hand. She spun herself dizzy."

As they moved off, Maras shook his head in admiration. Mai was quite the lady. She'd put ideas in his head that had never been there before, like he could really enjoy spending time with someone like Mai. She'd got him thinking about babies too. He really liked those kids of Mai's. When he held one, he kept thinking he'd like to be holding a little one that was his own.

Not, Maras added realistically, that any kid of his would-be as tiny and cute as Mai's. And of course, the kid could never be by Mai. She were married, and Maras firmly respected marriage. He had a very low opinion of Daron's playing fast and loose with that institution, not that Daron would be playing fast and loose with anyone for the foreseeable future. But that weren't the point. Mai were married, and happily too as far as he could tell. But that comment about her aunt gave him an idea. Maybe all the women in her family were Octagla nuts like the men. She might have a sister or cousin that weren't spoken for yet. He'd have to ask 'fore he left planet.

*****

Chapter 51

It didn't take monitors to tell Knett that Daron was exhausted. He was obviously struggling to stay awake. Daron had done well, making it through three periods.

"Daron, take your helmet off and get some rest. I'll record Hidi – you can laugh at her decking Jorj and Kenof tomorrow."

Daron didn't argue. "Thanks," he mumbled as he handed the damn thing to Knett. He'd wake up for the rest of the game, the cheering would wake him. He let himself drop into deep oblivion.

As soon as Daron was in deep sleep Knett turned the sound almost off and dimmed the screen. With luck Daron wouldn't wake. If he showed signs of waking, Knett would just administer that inhaled sedative he and Trevarr had planned for this eventuality.

***

It was simply too exciting. Abby forgot she was being grown up and pressed her nose on the glass for the best view. Not only had Mercan given her a ticket to the team box, it was right up front. The ones her parents had were at the back. And between periods he'd come up to talk to the press, and she'd been in the hallway going to buy something to eat. And he'd smiled as he walked past and said, "Hi Abby, enjoying yourself?"

Enjoying herself? This had to be the best Octagla game ever. Kit looked so sexy in an Octagla uniform, and he played like a pro. When she got back to the hotel she was going to listen to his albums over and over all night. Roban was kind of cute too. He had just jetted down to talk to the goalie the Pickups had. She leaned further forward, twisting a bit for the perfect view and in the process showing more breasts curving in a unitard than Hidi.

The motion, then the figure caught Mercan's eye.

"Hey Ranga!" Ranga could use a little distracting. He was taking playing in the same court as his father too hard. He hadn't spoken to anyone in the breaks, and when it wasn't his shift he just stared at his boots.

Ranga looked towards Mercan.

"C'mere." There was time before the face-off.

Obediently Ranga jetted over. Mercan waved to Abby and mouthed, "Hi, Abby!"

She caught the wave and focused. Mercan was waving at her! She waved back and smiled.

As Ranga arrived, Mercan pointed. "See the Hidi clone? I think she's your age or a bit younger. Want an introduction? I met her out walking. No, not there. At the front of the team box."

Ranga shifted his gaze and his eyes widened. Gorgeous! Somehow, life always felt different here in the court. Like things were possible. Why not? Ranga gave Abby a smile, and not his usual shy wave but a broad one like Daron would have.

"Okay." Mercan went for universal sign language. He pointed to Abby, to Ranga, and back.

Oh. Abby's mouth opened. She was pretty sure Mercan meant Ranga wanted to meet her. When? After the game? But it would be late then. It was already late. Her father had pointed that out, saying the party was a bad idea. All of a sudden Abby didn't feel grown-up. She turned.

"Dad?"

He would know what to do. There was no sense asking her mother. She would just ask Vance.

"Yes Abby?" Vance rose from the well screened seats he had arranged.

"I think Mercan wants to introduce me to Ranga." Abby's voice was breathless.

"Are you sure, dear?"

"Well, he pointed at me, then Ranga, then me. Then Ranga waved."

Vance didn't hesitate. He'd learned years ago to take this kind of luck when it came. Maybe Zloenni would get her message delivered after all.

"Well, Ranga seems to be a nice young man. Why don't you say yes? Your mother and I will make sure we're there too at the party and stay nearby." Very sure. And say hello to Ranga and deliver that damned message. How much better cover could you get, than Ranga picking up your daughter?

***

Ghen was watching Ranga without seeming to watch, like he had all night. He'd smiled at Mercan pointing out the little one who looked like Hidi, but the smile did not last. That man bending over the girl, those dark blond curls, that jawline. It had to be. Ghen watched patiently until the man straightened and he saw him in better light. Vance Grelann. That must be Abby grown up.

Ghen's jaw set. Since he hadn't asked Vance here, it must be that bloody Zloenni. Hell, wasn't anywhere in the galaxy safe from her hit men? As soon as the game was over he'd have Ralin put twenty-four hour guards on Daron. But right now he was getting the truth out of that son of his. All it would take was an opportunity to make it look like a sports fight.

***

"C'mon." Ghen stood there warily, stick ready. "Isn't this what you wanted? To prove you're better than your old man?" He'd just given Ranga a very rough and not especially clean check, and Ranga had turned on his attacker to even things up as a matter of principle, then frozen when he saw who it was.

"Or are you afraid?" Ghen taunted.

Ranga raised his stick, still not stepping forward. The night had become unreal, terrifying, when he saw Vance Grelann bend down to talk to that gorgeous girl. He had no idea how Vance got onto Gingezel. He recognized him of course. But he had no doubt Zloenni had sent him to get someone. Who? Daron? Ghen? Himself?

"Ranga!!" Isley raised his voice on the intercom, setting the channel to Ranga only.

How had he ever been talked into this insanity? Mai, that doll-sized woman was the dirtiest player he'd seen – next to her brother that is and Torin was using all his old tricks out there. Roban was using every last thing he knew about the team against them. And for most of the first quarter Joran and his buddies had made them look like idiots because they'd all been afraid of hurting the musicians. The impromptu team meeting had put an end to Joran and his friends' nonsense anyways, but they were still embarrassingly behind and it was the last quarter.

And now it looked like Ranga was sincerely thinking about taking on his father – a drug lord for galaxy's sake – on network holovision. They'd never live it down. Isley raised his voice even louder.

"Put your stick down!!"

Ranga froze and lowered his stick.

Ghen watched him out of narrow eyes. Isley must have said something over the intercom in Ranga's helmet.

"So, you will listen, just not to me, huh? Isley the coach – I respect him. But Zloenni is a piece of shit!" He spat the words out in a patois they used sometimes for privacy and saw the telltale flicker that was almost a flinch in Ranga's eyes. So Daron was right. Zloenni had her claws in him. Ghen lowered his own stick and turned away in an obvious show of contempt.

Ranga made his move. It was not clear to him whether or not Ghen saw the butt end coming, it was so fast. But Ranga could hear the ribs break as he connected.

Equally fast Ghen's own stick was up and he was turning.

If Ranga had spent a lifetime learning to fight dirty, so had Ghen and he had more experience. The slash made sure Ranga would be in therapy longer than Roban had been. It was the left hand though, so his son would still be able to do those beautiful drawings.

Ghen rarely lost his temper, but he did occasionally when he was fighting. And he did this time. Not because of the broken ribs although they hurt like hell, but because Ranga had been aiming lower, at kidneys. He lifted his stick to take another swing, and felt both arms being seized roughly from the rear.

"Don't!"

"Ghen!"

The 'Ghen' was followed by a stream of multilingual profanity informing him of just how stupid that stunt had been, and identifying the out-of-sight speaker as Joran. The other person was less identifiable. Ghen thought he'd got a glimpse of a referee's uniform in his peripheral vision, but he wasn't sure and he wasn't taking his eyes off Ranga. He tried to struggle loose. The grips tightened.

"Dammit! Dreen! See if you can talk some sense into him!" Joran said, his voice taut and low.

Dreen. So it was Dreen that had hold of him.

"Ghen." Dreen kept his voice pitched low, soft, firm. "This is insane. Settle things with Ranga if you have to." Dreen didn't know what had upset Ghen but now wasn't the time to argue that point. "But do it in private. Not on holovision." Then exasperated, "Ghen, do you hear me?!"

Dreen was right. He'd lost his temper, and every time he'd done that in his life he'd regretted it.

"I hear you."

Ghen tried to relax, to let the tension go out. "Dammit, let go."

He still wasn't taking his eyes off Ranga. That state of shock from pain couldn't last and Ranga was free while he was pinned here. Then Larr and more importantly Maras got close enough to take a hold of Ranga, just in case. Ranga's teammates seemed to have a few things to say to him about stupidity too. Ghen let his focus shift to Dreen and Joran.

"It's all right, let go!"

"Ghen, if this is some kind of deke out move –" Joran didn't trust him.

"It isn't." Ghen was starting to be tired, and pain was winning over adrenaline.

"Then let go of that bloody stick."

Ghen didn't even know he was still holding it. He let it loose with a shove that propelled it well away.

"Satisfied?"

Joran let go. Dreen took a moment longer, then did too.

"How hurt are you?" Dreen asked. Trevarr had arrived and was cautiously inspecting Ranga's hand and wrist.

"Broken ribs. Two I think."

Dreen blanched.

Joran said, "Sorry. I wasn't close enough to do a damn thing. There wasn't even time to warn you."

"That's all right. I saw it coming."

"You what?!"

"Otherwise I'd be in a stretcher cocoon. He was aiming low." Neither Dreen nor Joran seemed to have a thing to say to that, so Ghen transferred his attention back to his son. Pain was written all over Ranga's face but he wasn't saying a thing as Trevarr continued his inspection. "Will you try to stop me if I go over there?"

"And what?" Dreen asked bluntly.

"I think we both got things out of our systems for now. I know he's hurt. I need to know how bad. Then we may as well ride down to Crescent Bay together and keep Daron company at the clinic."

"Go ahead."

Ghen cautiously approached his son, then said something in that patois that Dreen didn't know, and when he looked at Joran, Joran shook his head. Then rather to their surprise, Ranga half smiled.

"Let's go," Ghen said shifting to ComLan. He put the arm that hurt least to move around Ranga's shoulder. Zloenni and Vance could make what they wanted out of that.

***

What did she do now? Mitra stared at Ghen and Ranga as Trevarr motioned for the emergency medical team to join the cluster midcourt. She couldn't wake Daron, this would totally stress him out. It had her totally stressed-out.

***

What the hell did he do now, Isley mentally demanded of the galaxy at large. At least Roban had said Daron was asleep. Get through this, and start calling farm teams. He'd never negotiate a trade this close to trade deadline. He didn't dare look up to the team box where Marti was sitting in the front row.

***

"What do I do now?" Dreen asked Joran. "Call the game?"

"No way," Joran said quickly. "Tamara would never live that down – two called games back to back. We play it out. Then I paste on a smile and Isley and I do what we can on damage control."

*****

Chapter 52

The game tightened up. Now everyone's focus was to just finish it up without problems. That didn't mean the Pickups intended to let Tamara win. They intended to win, but the pros took the fight more philosophically than they did, and steadily closed the gap. They weren't as exhausted either.

Mercan scored.

Pickups 19 Tamara 17.

Mitra looked at the clock. One minute and seventeen seconds left. This could be the last face-off of the game. Which string did she send out? If she was following Daron's rotational pattern it would be Mai. And Mai seemed to have caught her second or was it her third wind. But...

"Torin. Is your line up to the final shift?" Let the dream team have their last few minutes together. Let the retired superstars have their last few minutes of camera time. Mitra saw the ear to ear grins on Torin and Rall as Torin turned back to center court. Mitra turned to Mai. "Do you mind?"

Mai shook her head. "Let them have their dream. I haven't seen Torin this happy since his accident."

There was a quick heads together conference among the line consisting as much of looks as words.

"Pro level?" Torin asked as he used the cuff of his glove to wick the sweat pool from below his right eye.

Rall nodded, smile gone, his black face serious. He knew he and Torin might not move for a week, but they were going to play like the pros they had been.

"Roban?" Torin asked. Roban had seen a lot more time than he would in a regular game.

"I'm with you," Roban said gravely. He could see the fatigue behind the smiles and knew the cost. He would do what he could to help his heroes win.

"Eli? Are you still good for working the roof?"

Eli's eyes held the old fire from the Genie racing days. This was a different kind of pro sport, but he understood. "I'm in," he told Torin.

"I'll do what I can," Jon said, feeling the lowest in the hierarchy for once in his life, and not minding at all. These men were amazing.

"Mitra, pull me for Rhea," Chett murmured into the intercom, saving them all the embarrassment of asking him to leave. "If this doesn't break our way it will be Larr on the roof who carries the play. I can't support Arn up there."

Mitra nodded. Rhea was already out of the box her eyes as aflame as Eli's.

"Arn?" Torin asked.

"Still going on adrenalin," was the lanky blond's terse reply. He wasn't Tribe and as comfortable on the roof as Eli, but he had been a pilot too long to disorient. He'd do what he had to.

"Leeth. Are you still good?" Mitra's voice joined the conference on the intercom. Timoth hadn't done well at all against Larr.

"Fine," was the grunted reply. Leeth sincerely hoped it was not a lie.

One slapping of hands, and the cluster broke up.

Jon headed towards his position, then stopped. "Joran. Do you want my shift?"

Did he want this shift? That was the stupidest question Joran had heard in years. Of course he did. But he could also see Torin and Rall's faces. "Stay. I'm no athlete."

Relieved, Jon nodded, but he'd had to ask. Joran had worked so hard putting this together.

Isley could see the look on Torin and Rall's faces too. "Treat them like a pro team," he murmured into the Tamara intercom. "All of them." That's what he would want suited up out there – a last memory of being pro.

***

Torin took his position for the face-off. The tentative friendliness that had been in Red's eyes was gone. His whole face was hard, professional. Torin took a quick look at the rest of the Tamara line. Mercan, Rundell, Larr, Chan replacing Ranga, Big Luis, Maras. The same. They looked like what they were, the galactic champions out to tie the game in the last two minutes and take it to overtime. Torin sent a mental blessing to Isley for deciding to play it this way.

He took the face-off. It was only by a microsecond, but he took it. Torin expertly twisted his stick to settle the ball deeper as Red gave him a vicious stick check that took Red up five notches in his estimation. Torin gave Red a rough shoulder and headed into the Tamara end. It was a dream, Roban there, calm, steady, his constant murmur directing the play. Rall and Eli near the roof on opposite sides of the court both ready for the roof. Jon, who had wasted his life as a Genie racer, swerving in on Maras, distracting him.

All right Red, if that stick check was the only use you are going to be, it's up to me. Mercan gave Roban a cross-check, turned jets on full, and twisted past the temporarily winded Roban. You want to play pro, Torin, we play pro. Mercan closed in fast, blocking any good angle for Torin to pass to the roof. And now we see if you can hold that ball when I check you, really check you, not fooling around.

Torin could read the look on Mercan's face. Good! He'd got Mercan away from Roban. Time to pass off.

With Mercan not on him, Roban netted the pass easily and in one fluid motion moved the play to Rall on the roof.

Play it professional. All of them. The memory of Isley's murmur rang in Larr's ears like a shout. He didn't give himself time to think. The check he gave his father was teeth jarringly hard. The ball went loose and Larr netted it. He leapt off the roof and was free. The path back into the Pickup end was clear. Arn was positioning himself well, Larr noted, but his focus was on Leeth. The man had played a surprisingly good game and didn't seem to care where a shot came from – the roof or the normal court.

Larr made his decision. He had to convince himself the roof was where he belonged. He shifted back to running, Arn coming up with grim determination.

"You can do it!" Mercan's voice came over the team intercom.

"Hope so," Larr said as he rolled with the solid check from Arn. Larr regained his balance and took his shot.

Woo! How did Leeth get a piece of that? Arrof couldn't have made that move. Tarell either.

Leeth didn't manage to hold it though. Eli and Rundell raced for the bounce but Eli was much closer. He won, pressing the play back into the Tamara end.

It was like a Genie race. Eli took his time, perhaps an eternity perhaps a microsecond, assessing the Tamaran team. Mercan was going to be the one who closed in. He'd seen the eye contact between Rundell and Mercan. Fair enough. Rundell's arm was a problem. And Big Luis had a 'just try it' look on his face. So did Maras, but Maras's eyes were only for Rall. And that was what this was about – giving Torin and Rall their last chance.

"Heading up." Mercan wouldn't follow him to the roof. But Larr and Maras would be up there as fast as they could. All Eli had to do was get Maras out of position... "Rall, get ready for the pass."

Jets, a twist, a flip, and Eli was past the disoriented looking Mercan. There was the roof, one moment above him, the next moment below. It was like rotating a Genie with the hull transparent. He'd done that thousands of times, just for the changed perspective you got. Contact. Eli took off with his long legged graceful stride.

No wonder Rall was in the Hall of Fame, Eli thought. He was giving no indication he was headed for the roof too, and over the length of his career he'd scored more than half of his goals in regular play not on the roof. Eli could see the indecision on Maras's face. Did he come up on the roof and do Big Luis' job since Big Luis had avoided the roof, or keep an eye on Rall? Larr was starting to shove his dad around a bit, just in case, but keeping it legal. Eli kept going. Come on, come on! Someone has to come up here, or I'll take my shot and let Rall have the next one.

It seemed instant. There was Maras's mean black face only meters from his. Perfect. Eli made his pass.

Rall turned, jets full, twisting to get past Larr and net the ball. In the process he 'accidentally' gave a solid kick to Larr's chest and heard his son's breath come out in a whoosh. Part of his mind registered the grin. Then he netted the ball and headed for the roof. He had maybe a one second head start on Larr. Rall accelerated.

Hell. Were the defenseman that big and that fast when he played? Automatically Rall checked for Larr, but he and Roban were in a shoving match. Chan was closing in to free Larr up, but it would take too long. If... If he could use the fact Maras was out of position in center court.

Rall let instinct from all those years take over. Let Maras keep coming. Don't pick up the pace. Yes, he was screening the goal. Now! A change of stick side, a sharp bounce almost at Mikey's feet that because of the acute angle from the roof went into the upper right of the goal. Could he teach Larr to do that? In his time no one else could learn to do it.

Maras was closest, and the first to congratulate Rall. He would have to wait to watch on holovision, but he knew what Rall had done. He'd made his famous bounce shot. A perfect end to a perfect night. Only thing that would've made it better were he'd been close enough to check Rall. But that damned Eli were tricky. Maras gave Eli an appreciative clout that almost knocked the slender man off his footing.

***

Twelve seconds left. Red took this face-off from him. Torin wasn't surprised. Exhaustion was hitting. Not for Roban though. He was there acting like it was the end of the first period, shoving Red, stick checking an attempted pass, timing them out for that eternity of twelve seconds. The end of game buzzer sounded.

Pickups 21 Tamara 19

*****

Chapter 53

Joran did not join in the post game backslapping and hugging. He jetted over to the Tamara box.

"Isley, I think we had better break tradition and not wait for the post game show. I don't want those announcers to open their mouths first."

Isley nodded grimly.

Joran connected to Hidi, not to Jorj. "Hidi we're coming up right now. Spin control time."

"I'll meet you in the hall."

Joran answered Isley's raised eyebrows. "Hidi is okay. She helped me with spin control on my comeback."

Isley sincerely hoped that Joran was right. It looked like she was the only option. Jorj would be useless in a situation like this.

"One more thing, Joran. Can you host the media event for me? I have to talk to the farm teams as soon as I clear the guys out of the dressing room, and I need to do some thinking before that."

"No problem."

***

Hidi was good to her word. She was in the corridor, her beautiful eyes huge and worried, her body taut.

"Daron?" she barely managed a whisper.

"He's all right. He fell asleep before the last period and Knett has sedated him." Joran shrugged. "Tomorrow is tomorrow."

Hidi nodded. Tomorrow was tomorrow. Keeping her voice soft she said, "I'll bail you out as soon as I can get a word in. What are safe topics?"

Joran looked at Isley. The man looked like he sincerely doubted there was a safe topic.

"Larr on the roof?" Joran asked and got a nod from Isley. Then inspiration struck and he grinned. "How about the fact Mai just might be the dirtiest little player in the galaxy?"

"She is, isn't she?" Hidi agreed. "And I've got clips I made up on all of the charities Daron is giving money to." That had been designated as her job and she hadn't minded a minute of it. "Once we're off on that you can both escape."

"Do Jorj and Kenof know we're on the way?"

"No. I told them I needed the women's and to cover for me. They were glad to see me leave."

***

"I met Joran and Coach Isley in the hall," Hidi murmured into her intercom mic as she proceeded them into the room.

Joran gave a salute to Jorj who was talking into the camera.

Jorj gave them a quick nod and said importantly, "All of our viewers are waiting to know about fight. We have Coach Isley -"

Before Jorj could finish his sentence with something that required Isley to reply, Joran cut in.

"Jorj, I've known Ghen and Ranga for years. They both have short fuses, and Octagla is a game where tempers can flare. You saw them. They left friends, arms around each other."

There was an advantage to still being suited up, Joran decided. He definitely looked the authority figure and Joran sure hoped he sounded like one. Jorj didn't seem to have a reply, so maybe that line had worked. Joran would give a lot to know what that fight was about. He'd gone over and over it in his mind. He'd been closest. The patois had him baffled, but he thought he had heard Ghen say Zloenni. If so, no wonder he and Ranga were squaring off.

Kenof nervously cleared his throat and turned to Isley. "But Ranga is seriously injured. What does that do Tamara's odds of getting into the playoffs?"

"Players of Ranga's caliber are rare," Isley said gravely. "We'll know more when the medical reports are in. For the short term I will be contacting our farm teams to see who will play best with Larr."

That was her cue. "Speaking of Larr," Hidi said, "that was sensational seeing him go up on the roof after Rall! And he's been up there ever since."

Kenof relaxed. This was safer ground and his territory. "Did you see that one pass he intercepted? I haven't seen a move like that since ..."

Jorj was busy calling up the scene.

Hidi risked a discrete wink at Joran while the camera was not on her.

***

"We won!" Mai gave her brother another hug as they entered the locker room. "We actually won!"

"Don't sound so surprised!" Torin laughed. He was so high right now. Come morning he would have trouble moving, but right now - fantastic! He gave Rall a punch. "You've still got that bounce shot!"

Rall just grunted, but his face glowed with pleasure.

"How did you make that last save?" Chett demanded of Leeth.

"I have no idea!" All Leeth knew was that he'd been shaky and disoriented ever since.

"We won," Eli said softly to Rhea, his eyes aflame.

She felt the old fire from the racing days kindle. Then his hair shifted exposing the tattoo on his cheek with his, and now his son's bloodlines.

"Go hit on Hidi, Eli. She doesn't seem to care if you're married!" Rhea hadn't meant for it to come out that loud, but conversation suddenly froze in the room. Damn. Damn the man!

Trevarr recovered fastest. "Great game, Coach!" The gravity was low enough it was easy to pick Mitra up and give her a kiss. He passed her into Kit's willing hands.

"Great game, Coach!" Kit was laughing into her eyes as kissed her, then went to hand her Torin.

"My turn first," Chett said. "Great game, Coach!"

Leeth used the chaos to discretely squeeze Rhea's knee. "You did just fine."

Rhea smiled at him gratefully. Leeth wasn't talking about the game.

"Hey, my turn!" Torin objected.

"Put me down and hit the showers! The lot of you!" But Mitra was laughing too. They'd actually won!

*****

Chapter 54

Hidi knew she was in what Daron would call 'a stupid mood'. Worrying about Daron had started it. Worrying that she had made things worse for the team by linking Ghen and Ranga, telling herself she was an idiot to worry about that since everyone knew they were father and son after the fight, and then worrying about the fact she was worrying had deepened the mood. Then that coward Vance Grelann hadn't had the nerve to attend the post game media event. She had fantasized about walking up to him, saying hello to Abby, and saying how she had always wanted to meet his wife.

Making polite automatic responses to some tourists who had flown in for the game and were complimenting her on her commentary, Hidi scanned the room one last time. Idiot! Vance wouldn't show up. Daron would tell her she was being stupid. She had just made a lot of money. She was young, attractive, and had a few days to spend the money however she wanted on Gingezel.

Daron would also know exactly how to get her out of this mood. But he was sedated in a hospital bed. She couldn't even call him. Well, she would have to make do. Eli caught her eyes from the far side of the room and quirked a brow. No way, Eli! He was in an even more poisonous mood than she was. She'd seen him watching Rhea ever since Rhea walked in with Leeth's arm around her. Chett? She had seen him in a back corner laughing about something with Vennbir. Hidi turned. No, they had disappeared. The two were probably looking for a flight crew to help celebrate. Well, that left the Tamara dressing room.

***

Hidi was about five meters from the dressing room door when it opened and Red came out.

"Well... hello there Hidi."

The kiss that accompanied this greeting came with a strong scent of aftershave she disliked. She endured the kiss and the scent, then stepped back.

"Hello, Red."

Stepping back didn't work. There was still a hand on her waist. She now firmly removed that hand, keeping a smile in place. Hidi didn't like Red any better than Daron did, but even if her job was celebrities, not jocks, he was not a man to offend.

"You're flat out of luck tonight. I'm looking for Big Luis. He in there?" She pointed at the closed dressing room door.

Red's eyebrows went up. "Big Luis? He and the rest of the beef are still cluttering up the benches." He put a hand back on Hidi's waist. "They'll be there all night reliving the glory of being in the same court as Rall and Torin. So why waste your time?" Hidi was his type, all tawny and sleek.

There was no sense removing the hand again. Red seemed to think she came with the first string center position. "Because," she smiled, "I'm in need of one big, big partying mood. You know," her voice slid into a wicked imitation of Big Luis, "'C'mon on Maras. Loosen up. It's party time!'" They seemed to party together, which was weird, since one was so dour, the other so easy-going. But she'd manage to lose Maras somewhere along the way.

In spite of himself, Red laughed at the imitation. Hidi obviously meant it. Oh well, this wouldn't be his only chance with Daron laid up. "Have fun." He released his hold.

***

What now? Coach Isley looked at the door resignedly. All he wanted to do was finish up in here and talk to Trevarr about Ranga, not that it took much imagination to guess what Trevarr would say. Then he wanted, but was not going to have, a couple hours to seriously think about how to replace Ranga. He was not going to have those couple hours, because he had an appointment in thirty minutes with Marti, and she would want a solution.

To top it off, his defensemen were still deep in conversation in the back corner. They'd showered, but that was it. Not a one had made a move towards clothes. They were all high on actually having played with Rall and Torin. It amused him. To him Rall and Torin were just a teammate and an opposing team member. Twenty years from now, would someone feel the same about Daron? No, not Daron. His mind still wasn't accepting the reality Daron would never play at his old level again. Roban then? Anyway, he didn't have the heart to disrupt them.

Displeased and cautious, Isley the open the door. "Hidi?" Confusion joined the displeasure and caution on his face.

"Sorry, Coach Isley. I know I'm breaking about a thousand rules, but I'm off duty now, it isn't a league night, and Red said the big boys had taken root here. I thought I'd offer to get them moving for you," Hidi said in a nervous rush. That was one of the rules Daron had made very very clear. Your private life didn't start for about ten meters from the dressing room door.

Isley took a look to where not one of the defensemen had so much as looked up at the interruption. "That," he said with a sigh, "could take some doing."

Hidi smiled. She liked the coach. "Shall I break rule 1001 and come in and try?"

Isley hesitated, but it wasn't a league night. "Just this once, Hidi. Don't think you can try this stunt in the season." Actually, it could be good, and he could use a laugh about now.

Hidi stepped in, taking a good look at the forbidden domain. Her eyes came to rest on the four broad backs. Maras had some sort of fleecy robe on. The rest were bare. She hesitated. "Are they decent?" She couldn't tell.

"They're all reasonably good at knotting towels," Isley said dryly.

"You mean they haven't moved since they showered?" Hidi shook her head. "This," she said firmly, "could take some doing."

To Isley's amusement, she removed her jacket, folded it very carefully, and place it on a chair. He watched as she pushed her sleeves up to just below the elbow, showing off a rather lovely, intricate bracelet. After fluffing her hair into a full halo of curls, she hesitated, then undid another button on her blouse showing that the unitard was semi transparent as well as glittery.

"That should do it." Hidi looked to where not a head had turned and the volume of the conversation had increased if anything. She shook her head again, and walked until she was about six paces away.

"Okay! Time to move! Isley wants to leave tonight even if you don't!" She kept it brisk, her best order giving tone. Four heads turned, disoriented by the sudden disruption and the female voice. Then came three smiles, and Maras's usual icy glare. That man did not like her.

"Hidi!" was followed three versions of 'what are you doing here?'

"I came to collect the lot of you. It's party time."

"I never say no to a party." Big Luis smiled at her, although he was surprised with Daron laid up and Ranga joining him that Hidi wouldn't be headed to the clinic.

"That's good Luis, 'cause you and I have some serious partying to do." She gave him a seductive smile. "So stand up and start putting some clothes on."

"Sure thing, Hidi." He stood up, automatically started to unknot the towel draped around his hips, thought the better of it, and turned to reach for his soft suede tunic. It was cut long enough to be decent. His hand never got there. He was thinking of that smile and the way Hidi looked. She never bothered to look that blatantly sexy waiting for Daron. Slowly Big Luis turned back and gave her a good look, starting at the feet and ending by meeting a pair of amused blue eyes that Daron had assured them really were that color.

"Hidi, I'm going to risk sounding stupid. The blanket party invitation sounds good." Big Luis found he was smiling into those eyes. "Real good. But did you have something special planned for you and me?"

"Most definitely, Luis." Hidi found she was giving him a head to toe in return. She'd always thought the uniform and the clothes he chose made him look bigger than he was, but she was wrong. There was an awful lot of man there, very attractive man. She in turn met amused brown eyes and smiled.

Big Luis stepped out of the group of his friends. They had obediently risen too in search of clothes, but had stopped now to see what happened next. He was intrigued, but not automatically buying in. Hidi had no doubt given him even less thought in the past than he'd given her.

"First, my friends and I have to get something to eat."

"Definitely," Hidi agreed, amused and looking at the stacks of plates where they had been sitting. A meal should take two hours or so despite what they had already eaten. The four defensemen could keep a restaurant solvent on their own.

That was interesting. Big Luis had seriously expected a 'great, see if I'm still around' after that response. "And, we're not through talking about the game." He smiled to soften it. "I'm just warning you in advance."

"Daron and Roban never talk anything else. And it must have been something being out in the court with Rall. You couldn't believe how high Daron was when he talked Rall into coming. He's always so wished he could roof run."

Mmm. Big Luis liked the general content, but he could have stood a few less references to Daron. Still, maybe that was better than deliberately not talking about him

Hidi in turn was watching Big Luis, wondering exactly what was coming next. What she had thought of as a casual pickup with the party boy was starting to feel like an impromptu job interview.

"Then, when we've got refilled from the game," Big Luis' smile was sunny now, "then we party." What a reason to party - playing with Rall and Torin!

Then he remembered he was very unpopular with Coach Isley for his last party and that he had said he would not party on the space station because of Daron. "That okay coach? A party planetside?"

"Suit yourself. It's layover. Just show up for practice sober and rested."

"Yo." Big Luis saluted and returned his attention to Hidi.

Hidi found a big hand on each shoulder, but rather than getting the social kiss she expected in public and wanted, they firmly turned her around.

"Now, keep your head pointed that way and go talk to Isley. We gotta get dressed, then go get that meal."

"Right, Luis." Hidi shook her head and headed for Isley.

*****

Chapter 55

At last! Isley watched the group head out the door. Still, making small talk to Hidi had let his subconscious work. He had an idea... Isley mulled it over as he traveled the short corridor to the team spaceship. Settled in his office, he called up a segment of a game on the wall-sized screen, then another, watching a slender Latino with moves like Roban. Roban was probably his idol, Isley thought.

He was still watching when Marti came in, late for once. She was showing her age, Isley decided. Her bearing was erect and graceful as always, but her shoulders were slumped and there were lines of fatigue beside her mouth.

"I should never let Joran talk me into anything!" Marti said with a sigh as she sank into the nearest seat. "I know you had to be here working, but I've been at that press reception standing beside him trying to make nonsense answers sound like they mean something to what must have been every last sports reporter in the galaxy."

"Not even talk you into Gingezel?" Isley asked. He had found out Marti was part of the consortium that ran Gingezel when there was a debate about moving the team here.

"That one stroke of brilliance has had me suckering ever since." She looked at the image frozen on the wall, a player in their colors rolling with a check. "Thinking of him?"

Isley set the clip back in motion. "He has the moves."

Marti watched in silence. "Can you show me more?" At last she nodded. He was fast, agile, aggressive. She liked to see that. But he was young. Too young? "Who is he?"

"Tedia. Our Junior A farm team on Laurion. I almost signed him instead of Ranga in the underage draft two years ago, but Ranga is Tamara born. I just made sure he had a no-trade contract so someone else couldn't get him. He's good enough he should be able to work first string some. I want to keep our second string at least a bit balanced."

"You are willing to go with another young player then?"

"None of the players on our planetary pro farm teams have his moves. I'll see if his coach thinks he can handle it."

***

"Tedia, trade off!" The coach's voice came into his helmet over the team intercom.

Tedia's amber eyes widened. He was having a good shift, possibly his best yet. And the play was moving back to his side.

"Now!"

If the coach wanted to lose the play... Tedia shrugged and headed for the box, only too aware of the smirk on Jeff's face as he came out to replace him.

"Hit the showers!"

Coach Orrtaz watched the flush of shock and anger, but Tedia kept his mouth shut. He relented. Tedia was good, good enough for Galactic Pro. He'd told Isley that. He listened to you and did what you said. He'd had his bit of fun upsetting Tedia, now he'd tell him what was up.

With an ear to ear grin Coach Orrtaz said, "I've been talking to Isley. I told him you were playing, and Isley said he didn't give a damn if you were setting up a goal, to get you out of the court before you hurt yourself."

Tedia stared, the words not making sense.

"They want you. I gather Ranga's hurt himself, and they need you for the rematch with Pendrae United. There are one hell of a lot of forms to fill out – work permits for every planet they might be against in the playoffs. Medicals for the same. Still, you might be able to get to Pendrae in time for a practice or so. Isley said to watch as many league games as you can between Tamara and Pendrae United in the mean time. As soon as he knows what replacements Pendrae United is bringing in, he'll make sure you get those games to watch too."

Tedia blinked, his amber eyes unfocused. He was going to Pendrae to play Galactic? He wouldn't replace Ranga of course, he'd be second string. But Galactic Pro...

*****

Chapter 56

"Hi Mai!" Trevarr thought he'd made enough noise letting himself in Mai had to have heard him, but she jumped. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. The door was unlocked and I didn't want to wake the kids."

He looked at the kitchen table where a wide-awake Tori was in a carrier at one end, and Kimi and Meku were having breakfast. Tori looked none the worse for the scare he'd given them.

"No worries there I take it. Hi Kimi! Hi Meku!"

"Hi Trevarr!" Meku said.

Kimi's mouth was full, so she waved a spoon.

Torin came through the kitchen door looking blurry and moving with obvious pain. He grunted an unintelligible greeting.

"You ready to come be there when Daron wakes up?"

Torin nodded and grabbed a square of protein bar. He and Mai had talked it over last night. There was the potential for a real problem when Daron heard about Ghen and Ranga. Torin had been close enough to hear the word 'Zloenni' mixed in with that unintelligible patios. That fight had no more to do with the check Ghen gave Ranga than Daron's injury was an accident.

***

Ghen paid no more attention to the breakfast he was eating than he had when choosing it. His mind was totally on his son and Vance Grelann. He hadn't tried to talk to Ranga about him on the way planetside. They'd distracted themselves talking about Larr and Rall and roof running. This morning the surgeon had arrived before he could see Ranga, and Ranga was having his first round of reconstruction now. What was Ranga into? The mention of Zloenni didn't warrant that vicious an attack, not if they were just sleeping together. So what was it? As he assessed the appalling range of options, Ghen's mind went back into its down spiral.

Last night, he'd sworn to have Ralin put twenty-four hour guards at the clinic. If Zloenni was bringing that class of talent, he'd figured that was the best route. But was it? It would frighten and upset both Daron and Ranga to be guarded, and they didn't need upsets. An equal consideration though was the personal repercussions. Ralin would not be pleased Vance was missing from the list of criminal class visa candidates he'd provided. Awkward. Very Awkward.

No, perhaps the better route was to speak to Vance and let it be known that both Ranga and Daron were under his personal protection. Vance wasn't stupid, and he'd make sure the message got back to Zloenni.

Obviously he couldn't call Vance. That would make Ralin suspicious. He would have to run into him. It didn't have to be today. The clinic was safe territory as long as he was in it. Ghen shifted uncomfortably. Between the broken ribs and an overall ache from playing the idea of moving, much less doing surveillance in the near future, did not appeal. But it had to be done. He would locate the hotel Vance was in, perhaps wait in the cafe until he came out. With luck his wife and Abby would be with. That would make it natural. Say he hadn't seen them for years and wasn't Abby all grown up. He didn't have to use Vance's name. Then he could say something like 'That game gave Daron's morale a real lift. I'm glad. I think of him as a son.' Make sure he was watching Vance's eyes as he said it. Vance would understand that all right.

Yes, that would do. Ghen nodded to himself. Hell! How much longer could the surgery take?

***

Daron opened his eyes to three smiling faces and with one question on his mind.

"How did we do?"

Torin's grin broadened. "We won! 21 - 19."

Daron stared incredulous, then a matching grin was on his face. "Sorry I flaked out."

"Hey, you planned all the strategy," Trevarr reminded him. "So savor the victory."

"And Hidi was terrific," Knett said. "You have got to see the rest of her segments."

"I'll bet." Daron yawned. "Has she checked in yet?"

"Nope. Is she the kind to sleep 'til noon?"

"She's been known to." Daron stretched cautiously. "I suppose I have to eat before I watch the rest of the game?"

"Yup. I'll get it right now." Knett left.

Torin waited until he heard the footsteps recede down the corridor. "There is one thing, Daron."

That got him a dirty look from Trevarr who hadn't intended to mention Ranga until later in the day when they knew how the surgery had gone. Well, there was no choice now. He closed the door to the room.

Daron looked at Torin warily. He didn't like the look on Torin's face any more than he liked the tone.

"Ranga and Ghen went at each other," Torin said bluntly. "Ranga's left hand is a mess like Roban's was. I don't know what you and Ranga are tangled up in, but Ghen's pissed." He paused, then added, "They were talking a patois I couldn't get, but I heard the name Zloenni."

"Torin, that's enough," Trevarr cut in, voice like ice.

"No, it isn't!" Torin said hotly. "Daron, you're better than the drug scene. You coached one helluva game last night. Hell," he couldn't help it, he was smiling again, "we beat the defending champs! Any of thousands of planetary pro teams would pick you up today as coach.

"Now," Torin looked from Daron to Trevarr, "I'm done. Do I get thrown out or can Daron and I watch the end of the game where Larr and Rall are on the roof?"

***

"How long did I sleep that time?" Daron asked as Knett put the inevitable tray down. It looked like it was laid for supper so it must have been a while. Reno was behind him with what looked like meals for himself and Knett. "You guys moving in?"

"Just thought you might want to go through a few of those get well messages." Reno grinned, sat, and picked up a plate.

"Oh?" It took Daron a moment to remember what that was about. He'd woken up brooding about Ghen. Then he joined Reno in the grin. "Sure."

"Where you going to start?" Knett asked.

"Pendrae."

"Best blondes in the galaxy," Reno agreed.

"Except Hidi," Daron said loyally, but she wasn't a natural blonde.

"Except Hidi," Reno agreed tactfully.

That wasn't the reason though. Maybe Krysta had sent a message. He'd never contact her himself now, not with the mess he was in. But it would be nice to see her face. There were so many messages he might not find hers, but maybe.

Daron opened one at random since he had no idea what name Krysta might send under. It was a blonde.

"Woow!" Reno inhaled sharply. "I thought they weren't supposed to send anything too racy."

"She send a message, or just the image?" Knett took a plate and propped his feet up. And there were a few hundred thousand or so like this.

***

Daron wasn't really watching as the images went past. None were Krysta. He tried to take Trevarr's advice. Don't hide from your problems, but don't let them dominate either. Give yourself a mental holiday now and again when you need it. It was a good idea. Ghen and Ranga and Zloenni would wait.

What mattered now was they'd won! They had actually won! Galaxy that had been fun! Torin's words surfaced. 'Any of a thousand planetary pro teams would pick you up today as coach.'

Not today. Not unless that next round of reconstruction they weren't telling him about stabilized better than this one had. But it was possible. An image distracted Daron, a brunette, but it wasn't Krysta. His mind drifted back to Torin's words.

###

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 (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..

