Last Chance Idol #3, We Are All In The Gutter
When Jared entered the playing court, both teams had already finished forming up. The playing sphere had been activated, the lines denoting its four quadrants and out of bounds regions glowing softly. It looked like each side had the required six primary players, but neither one had any alternates. Ordinarily, there would have been plenty of candidates to fill all twelve positions for both sides, not to mention hangers-on hoping to be called up in case of an injury, but the school semester had officially ended yesterday, so any student who didn't actually live on the station was probably packing or already gone.
He skirted the two teams, not wanting to draw attention to himself, and walked into the seating area for spectators. Although the playing sphere was always kept at zero-g, the sections where the audience watched the games and the locations where the teams prepped were set to half a gravity. Even now, when he had no intention of playing, the sphere was where his attention was focused, so much so that he stumbled twice climbing upward, and almost fell the second time. Seeing everything from this angle felt strange and a little surreal, as though if there was a game being played, he should be in the middle of it.
He had just picked out a good vantage point, a little more than halfway up one side of the sphere, when he was noticed.
"Mayfield!" Rick Castillo shouted from below, waving enthusiastically, "are you here to play?"
"Sure," he grumbled under his breath, reluctantly waving back, "that's why I'm sitting up here." Then, loud enough for the players to hear, "Nah, you've already got both teams picked, someone'd have to drop out for me to play."
A tall girl on the opposing team turned to face his section of stands, bent her head back until she spotted Jared, and favored him with a slow smile. The hallmark of her appearance, long black hair which would have flowed almost down to her ankles if unbound, was instead fastened into a bun at the back of her head for game play. Of course, he should've known Sylvie would be here. She'd probably expected to face off against him instead of Rick, one final contest between the two of them.
"Please Jared," she called up, "his team of amateurs needs at least one ringer, or they'll be no challenge at all."
Laughing halfheartedly, he waved them both off. "I have a date, leave me alone!"
Rick said something Jared didn't catch, and then huddled with his team, no doubt discussing their upcoming strategy. Sylvie remained staring up at him for a moment, the lighted play area sparking highlights in her captured hair, and finally raised her right hand, slanted to the left with its fingers held in the shape of a V. Somberly, Jared raised his own right hand, clinched into a fist, and rested it in the spread palm of his left. Time seemed to slow between them, the stylized gestures, not their eyes, telegraphing messages back and forth, until Sylvie dropped her hand and went back to her own team.
"You're not playing?" Akina's voice asked from behind him.
He jerked guiltily, actually rising a bit in the low gravity before catching himself and swiveling to face her. "Uh no," he said, stretching out a hand to help her sit beside him, "I wouldn't have asked you here just to watch."
"No?" she said, sounding doubtful, but accepting his offered hand and settling beside him. "Not like all those other times?"
Blushing, he looked away, back down to where Rick's and Sylvie's teams were taking position. "Sometimes it's nice to have a person in the audience who you know is rooting for you," he said softly. In a few moments, the players would leap into the lower left quadrant, and the game would begin.
"Hey," one of Akina's small hands covered his, "I didn't mind. I liked watching you play." Her hand didn't move, but it still felt like a caress on his skin.
The chime for the first quarter sounded, and both teams sprang into action. Rick's group had the ball, and began maneuvering towards the center of the sphere. The game was simple enough, keep the ball moving in sequence from one player to another, avoid obstacles, opposing team players trying to steal the ball, or wandering out of bounds, and at long last, shoot the ball through the goal at the center of the sphere. In practice, it was pretty damned difficult. The stationary obstacles were both a blessing and a curse; a blessing because you could use them to change your direction and speed, a curse because an ill-aimed throw would go caroming off in an unexpected direction, and often be stolen by an opposing player. If you weren't careful, you might also get trapped in-between two or more barriers that would prevent you from being able to pass off the ball to a teammate. Any player holding the ball for more than two seconds would receive a penalty, and the ball would be awarded to the closest player of the opposing team.
"Do you know," Jared mused, his attention fixated on the gyrating figures below, "when I started going here three years ago, playing this game scared the crap out of me."
"What?" Akina's tone was disbelieving.
"No lie," he assured her. "The first time I got pulled into one of these games, I only managed to make it through the first quarter. I begged off, went back to my room, and puked my guts out." Leaning against him, Akina shuddered, but said nothing. "I had traveled and even worked on one of my family's space ships before coming to school here," he said, "but for us, weightlessness was something to beware of, an inconvenience to endure, never a game."
"But, you adapted," she reminded him, releasing his hand and instead sliding her arm around his waist, "now you're the best of us. Dad says you'll probably end up at the top of our class this term."
How to tell her? "Akina, I ..." He willed himself to look at her, to find and hold her hazel eyes with his. "I won't be coming back."
Her body tensed against him, but she didn't react otherwise.
he babbled, desperate to fill her silence with some sort of explanation, however inadequate. "Her family," gesturing at the tall girl with the bun of hair below who had just captured the ball from Rick's team, "her family's selling weapons to the insurgents on our colony world. They've started bombing government offices."
"Freedom fighters." Those two words, spoken by the melodic voice he loved, were like knives in his eyes. "Our press says they're ..."
Pulling free, Jared scooted down the bench they were sitting on, turned his back, and stared blankly at the far wall of the playing court. "Your freedom fighters are bombing transports with children aboard," he choked out. "But it's okay, I'm sure they're all government sympathizers."
"Jared!" Her hands were on his back, trying to turn him back to face her. "I'm sorry, that wasn't ..."
"Don't you understand," he raged, spinning around to face her, "we're all living in the gutter! Jesus, don't you think I know that?"
She leaned forward, as fearless of his anger as she was everything else, and grasped his shoulders. "Jared, you could stay. Father would give you asylum if you asked, I know he would. You're the reason he created this school."
"Headmaster Yanoshita?" he sneered, still caught up in the tide of his anger, a deep wrenching despair close on its heels. "He may wield the power of a god here, but something tells me your spacer council wouldn't be impressed."
"They would," she said calmly, daring him to gainsay her, "students from every world compete for scholarships to come here, and influential families like yours and hers," a flick of one wrist dismissed the girl below. "Stay with me!"
He covered her hands with his, and then slowly pulled her into his arms. "Love, I can't. I can't repay the honor and sacrifice of my family with abandonment and betrayal." Rocking slowly back and forth, he held her as tight as he dared. "Please don't ask me to do that.
In the game sphere below, unnoticed by either one of them, Sylvie's team scored.
Author's Note:
My sincere thanks go out to Lizbeth, who took the time to review the basics of basketball with me. I didn't end up using much of what she told me, and twisted what I did to match my idea of what a three dimensional game would be like, but as always, she was my inspiration. Of course, all remaining blunders are my own.
Dan
Crossposted from Dreamwidth
He skirted the two teams, not wanting to draw attention to himself, and walked into the seating area for spectators. Although the playing sphere was always kept at zero-g, the sections where the audience watched the games and the locations where the teams prepped were set to half a gravity. Even now, when he had no intention of playing, the sphere was where his attention was focused, so much so that he stumbled twice climbing upward, and almost fell the second time. Seeing everything from this angle felt strange and a little surreal, as though if there was a game being played, he should be in the middle of it.
He had just picked out a good vantage point, a little more than halfway up one side of the sphere, when he was noticed.
"Mayfield!" Rick Castillo shouted from below, waving enthusiastically, "are you here to play?"
"Sure," he grumbled under his breath, reluctantly waving back, "that's why I'm sitting up here." Then, loud enough for the players to hear, "Nah, you've already got both teams picked, someone'd have to drop out for me to play."
A tall girl on the opposing team turned to face his section of stands, bent her head back until she spotted Jared, and favored him with a slow smile. The hallmark of her appearance, long black hair which would have flowed almost down to her ankles if unbound, was instead fastened into a bun at the back of her head for game play. Of course, he should've known Sylvie would be here. She'd probably expected to face off against him instead of Rick, one final contest between the two of them.
"Please Jared," she called up, "his team of amateurs needs at least one ringer, or they'll be no challenge at all."
Laughing halfheartedly, he waved them both off. "I have a date, leave me alone!"
Rick said something Jared didn't catch, and then huddled with his team, no doubt discussing their upcoming strategy. Sylvie remained staring up at him for a moment, the lighted play area sparking highlights in her captured hair, and finally raised her right hand, slanted to the left with its fingers held in the shape of a V. Somberly, Jared raised his own right hand, clinched into a fist, and rested it in the spread palm of his left. Time seemed to slow between them, the stylized gestures, not their eyes, telegraphing messages back and forth, until Sylvie dropped her hand and went back to her own team.
"You're not playing?" Akina's voice asked from behind him.
He jerked guiltily, actually rising a bit in the low gravity before catching himself and swiveling to face her. "Uh no," he said, stretching out a hand to help her sit beside him, "I wouldn't have asked you here just to watch."
"No?" she said, sounding doubtful, but accepting his offered hand and settling beside him. "Not like all those other times?"
Blushing, he looked away, back down to where Rick's and Sylvie's teams were taking position. "Sometimes it's nice to have a person in the audience who you know is rooting for you," he said softly. In a few moments, the players would leap into the lower left quadrant, and the game would begin.
"Hey," one of Akina's small hands covered his, "I didn't mind. I liked watching you play." Her hand didn't move, but it still felt like a caress on his skin.
The chime for the first quarter sounded, and both teams sprang into action. Rick's group had the ball, and began maneuvering towards the center of the sphere. The game was simple enough, keep the ball moving in sequence from one player to another, avoid obstacles, opposing team players trying to steal the ball, or wandering out of bounds, and at long last, shoot the ball through the goal at the center of the sphere. In practice, it was pretty damned difficult. The stationary obstacles were both a blessing and a curse; a blessing because you could use them to change your direction and speed, a curse because an ill-aimed throw would go caroming off in an unexpected direction, and often be stolen by an opposing player. If you weren't careful, you might also get trapped in-between two or more barriers that would prevent you from being able to pass off the ball to a teammate. Any player holding the ball for more than two seconds would receive a penalty, and the ball would be awarded to the closest player of the opposing team.
"Do you know," Jared mused, his attention fixated on the gyrating figures below, "when I started going here three years ago, playing this game scared the crap out of me."
"What?" Akina's tone was disbelieving.
"No lie," he assured her. "The first time I got pulled into one of these games, I only managed to make it through the first quarter. I begged off, went back to my room, and puked my guts out." Leaning against him, Akina shuddered, but said nothing. "I had traveled and even worked on one of my family's space ships before coming to school here," he said, "but for us, weightlessness was something to beware of, an inconvenience to endure, never a game."
"But, you adapted," she reminded him, releasing his hand and instead sliding her arm around his waist, "now you're the best of us. Dad says you'll probably end up at the top of our class this term."
How to tell her? "Akina, I ..." He willed himself to look at her, to find and hold her hazel eyes with his. "I won't be coming back."
Her body tensed against him, but she didn't react otherwise.
he babbled, desperate to fill her silence with some sort of explanation, however inadequate. "Her family," gesturing at the tall girl with the bun of hair below who had just captured the ball from Rick's team, "her family's selling weapons to the insurgents on our colony world. They've started bombing government offices."
"Freedom fighters." Those two words, spoken by the melodic voice he loved, were like knives in his eyes. "Our press says they're ..."
Pulling free, Jared scooted down the bench they were sitting on, turned his back, and stared blankly at the far wall of the playing court. "Your freedom fighters are bombing transports with children aboard," he choked out. "But it's okay, I'm sure they're all government sympathizers."
"Jared!" Her hands were on his back, trying to turn him back to face her. "I'm sorry, that wasn't ..."
"Don't you understand," he raged, spinning around to face her, "we're all living in the gutter! Jesus, don't you think I know that?"
She leaned forward, as fearless of his anger as she was everything else, and grasped his shoulders. "Jared, you could stay. Father would give you asylum if you asked, I know he would. You're the reason he created this school."
"Headmaster Yanoshita?" he sneered, still caught up in the tide of his anger, a deep wrenching despair close on its heels. "He may wield the power of a god here, but something tells me your spacer council wouldn't be impressed."
"They would," she said calmly, daring him to gainsay her, "students from every world compete for scholarships to come here, and influential families like yours and hers," a flick of one wrist dismissed the girl below. "Stay with me!"
He covered her hands with his, and then slowly pulled her into his arms. "Love, I can't. I can't repay the honor and sacrifice of my family with abandonment and betrayal." Rocking slowly back and forth, he held her as tight as he dared. "Please don't ask me to do that.
In the game sphere below, unnoticed by either one of them, Sylvie's team scored.
Author's Note:
My sincere thanks go out to Lizbeth, who took the time to review the basics of basketball with me. I didn't end up using much of what she told me, and twisted what I did to match my idea of what a three dimensional game would be like, but as always, she was my inspiration. Of course, all remaining blunders are my own.
Dan
Crossposted from Dreamwidth