Quiver and Crave

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “I remembered something, in the middle of the second half of the game. Every couple of years or so, they replace the walls in the arena. That’s why, isn’t it? Something to do with the crystal structure?”

  “It weakens,” she said. “The crystal molecules become unstable.”

  “Only, this is the first season I remember fans slapping the walls the way they do now.”

  “I think it is increasing the rate of degradation.”

  “You can’t just say ‘they’re getting weaker’ like normal people?”

  “I guess that’s what I am, now. Normal.” She sighed.

  “That is really what you think?” He sounded amazed. “Sheenan, you’re the most talented topman I’ve ever seen. You make it look like dancing. You’ve been offered a place on the team faster than anyone in the history of the ship. That didn’t happen because Esme likes your dimples.” He threw out his hand, then waved the other to compensate. “Yet you’d rather be a coder,” he finished flatly.

  “Truth, Kal? I don’t know what I want.”

  “You just don’t want to play.”

  “I like tankball. I do. I just wanted a place with the coders more. I want to use my mind. I want to be challenged.”

  He was smiling.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “It hasn’t occurred to you that you’re so good up here in the zero zone because you know all that science stuff? You know it so well, it’s in your bones. So when you’re up here, you’re applying all the principals automatically.”

  She stared at him, astonished.

  “Tankball just looks like a physical game. Most of it is played up here, though.” He tapped his temple. “That’s why I want team thinkers. Loners just mess things up. Do you think you could be part of a team?”

  Quiver sighed. “It doesn’t matter if I do or not. I can’t play for the Hawks.”

  “Why not? Don’t tell me some other team has made an offer.”

  “I couldn’t stomach the idea of being with anyone else,” she said quickly. “I just can’t play for you.”

  “You mean, for the Dream Hawks?”

  “I mean you, Kallon Crave. I can’t play with you.”

  He was staring at her again, with the narrowed eyes. Kal had never been stupid. He proved it again by saying; “We do know each other. Back in the Palatine, then?”

  “You really don’t remember, do you?”

  “Remember what? Was I a complete asshole or something?”

  “Yes.”

  He drew in a breath. Let it out, considering her. “You’d better hit me with it, Sheenan. There are a lot of days back then that are still a blur to me.”

  “You kissed me.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve kissed a lot of people. Did we…?”

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “It was only the next morning I realized that I was just another pillow for the night, for you. I was stupid. I thought you had come back to me.”

  “Come back?” He jerked, startled, then fanned the air, settling himself back down. “Who are you?”

  “Quiver. You don’t even remember giving me the name, do you?” She said it sadly. She had used up all her hurt and fury over this a long time ago.

  Kal drifted closer, staring at her. “What did people call you before Quiver?”

  “Quivi-anna-lon,” she said slowly.

  “Anna? Anna?” Kal drew in a breath that shook. “Oh my sweet stars above, you’re Anna.”

  Quiver nodded.

  Kal was breathing hard. “You used to like painting things…”

  She blinked. She had forgotten that. “I gave up painting. My very best friend fell in love with tankball, so I had to do what he did.”

  “Little Anna.” He whispered it. “I didn’t forget you,” he added softly.

  “You never came back as you said you would.”

  “I was ten years old!”

  “Eleven,” she said.

  “The year my parents moved into the big house on the far quadrant of the Palatine. You’re pissed at me because of some promise I made when I was eleven?”

  “I’m not pissed at you anymore. When you did come back into my life, when we got together when I was nineteen, I thought you wanted me. Anna. It was only the next morning I realized you had no idea who I was and you didn’t care, either.”

  He blew out a breath. “And because I was a jerk for one shitty moment, you’re going to give up a career in tankball?”

  “You haven’t changed your ways. You’re still bedding anything that moves in your direction.”

  He swallowed.

  “What?”

  “I nearly said what I usually say when someone talks about that. It just sounds too shallow now to be of any use.”

  “What? That it’s one of the perks of being Captain? I read your Forum profile, too, Kal.”

  He let out a gusty sigh. Because they were the only two objects in the zero zone, they had gradually shifted closer and closer, drawn to each other by the tiny gravity wells each of them produced. Kal was close enough that he could take her face in his hands.

  Quiver tried to pull her head away from his fingers. For a moment, she had forgotten the peculiarities of zero gravity. Jerking her head back just forced the rest of her body closer. She pressed up against him, helpless to stop her momentum.

  Kal pulled her tighter against him and slid his hand into her hair, tilting her head so he could study her features in the low light.

  “I can see it now,” he said quietly. “Your eyes haven’t changed at all. That’s where Anna is now.”

  “Anna is gone,” she said flatly.

  “No, I don’t think so.” He said it with complete assurance. “If she was really gone, Quiver would be pleased to play on my team, because it would let her have her fun in zero gravity.” His gaze didn’t shift away from her face.

  His body was hot against hers and so much larger. Quiver tried to ignore the effect he was having on her. It was difficult. “I won’t play with you because of this, right now,” she said, speaking as clearly as she could. “You’ll end up breaking my heart again. You’ll make me hate tankball. I can’t take that risk.”

  His mouth was so very close to her lips. She could see it in his eyes, the urge to kiss her.

  Her heart lurched, in a way that made her giddy.

  Then Kal let her go and pushed her away from him. “You’re right, Sheenan. I could fuck up the potential career of one of the most gifted topmen the Endurance will ever see, just by being myself. So, because I think Tankball needs you, I won’t be myself. Stop thinking of me as the enemy. From now on, I’m just the captain of the team you really should belong to. I won’t get in the way.”

  His push had sent him drifting farther away, too. He turned and reached for the ladder and pulled himself down to the ground zone, then walked away, toward the gym doors.

  “Training at nine,” he added, as he closed them behind him.

  It was a long time before her shaking stopped and she had the coordination necessary to maneuver out of the zero zone and back onto solid ground.

  * * * * *

  Quiver had played more than a few tankball games in her life. Esme Ganzo had watched at least a dozen of them before asking her to try out. She was even familiar with the inside of the tank at the arena, for amateur leagues could use the arena when the professional games weren’t scheduled.

  What she had overlooked was the noise and movement of the spectators. The sound seemed to pool inside the tank walls and throb. It took her a moment or two to adjust and finally to not hear the crowd at all.

  When the first line up swapped out with them, she climbed back onto the player’s bench, trembling with a rich mix of adrenaline, cortisol and sheer exuberance. She hadn’t scored a goal, she hadn’t assisted with a goal, yet just being out there had been—

  “Fun, huh, Sheenan?” Kal asked quietly.

  She nodded, because it was. She couldn’t meet his eyes, though. Instead she watched the
game. As her heart slowed and eased, she heard it.

  The walls were singing.

  “Kal.” She pulled on his sleeve. “Listen.”

  He leaned forward, to put his head closer to the wall. Then he sat back. “I can even hear it from here,” he said, his voice low.

  “It’s getting louder.” She licked her lips.

  “That’s not good, is it?”

  She shook her head. Her throat tightened and her heart was strumming. “Maybe we should stop the game.”

  “They’re never going to believe you, Sheenan.” Kal was leaning close to speak in her ear, so she could hear him above the crowd noises. “After the game, we’ll both talk to Collins, the Arena manager, with Esme there, too.”

  She nodded. Yet her heart wouldn’t settle. She could hear it in her head, echoing. Her stomach fluttered uneasily and her temples and neck prickled with sweat.

  The game went on. Micah was on the ground. Melody had the ball and was setting herself up with Rowen Holland as a pylon to push off against, to shove the ball closer to the red goal.

  The Zealots player got there faster. He cannoned into Melody and grabbed the ball handle. They tussled, as the ball beeped and the weight light turned deep red. Two gees!

  The ball plummeted, taking the two players with it.

  Melody used the steep dive to hip-check the Zealots player out of the way, while Micah set himself up on the ground to take the ball when it reached him.

  The Zealots player grabbed Melody’s ankle. Another Zealot held him. A classic pier.

  Melody was whipped around in a big circle, her ankle the fulcrum. The ball at the end of her arm, now super-heavy, whizzed through the air at an even greater speed. It weighed too much. With a cry that was lost among the crowd chanting, Melody let the ball go.

  “Oh shit…” Quiver breathed as the ball shot like a missile straight toward the wall.

  Kal gripped her knee, his fingers digging in.

  The ball smashed into the wall, which didn’t just crack and shatter. It exploded. Heavy chunks of plasteel the size of her chest bulleted out across the arena. More flew in the opposite direction, into the crowd.

  Quiver saw three of the groundmen throw themselves against the short, solid wall at the base of the tank, holding their arms over their heads. Micah, the fourth, launched himself up into the zero zone with a mighty leap, one arm out, reaching for Melody.

  That was all she saw. Kal shoved her off the bench and onto the ground and threw himself over the top of her.

  The screaming started.

  Quiver could hear the plasteel chunks hitting the normal gravity floors surrounding the tank. Some pattered. Some hit with thuds that seemed to rock the building.

  There were people shouting at each other. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. She tried to look up. Kal pushed her down again. “Wait,” he said shortly.

  “No, you don’t understand…” She shoved back and wriggled her way out. “The gravity is off. They can’t get back in.”

  Kal sat up. His face was pale. “What?”

  “Look.” She nodded toward the tank.

  The chunks of plasteel had done their damage when they first shot across the arena. Now they floated harmlessly in the tank, some of them daubed with blood. Among them, the players of both teams floated, dazed and injured.

  “Help me! Somebody help me!” The scream came from near the bottom of the tank.

  Melody floated there, gripping the shoulder of Micah’s uniform. He was unconscious—Quiver hoped. There was blood running from his leg, forming big globules that floated just as everything else was.

  “Why are they floating down there?” Kal said. He sounded confused.

  “The tank is formed with zero gravity from top to bottom, then the two gees and mid zone are added in on top. When the gravity goes out, everything flips to zero.” She looked at Kal. “We have to go and get them.”

  He drew in a breath and nodded.

  There was no hatch left to step through. The floor they were standing on stopped two paces in front of the bench, then huge nothingness of the tank.

  Quiver took off at a run and dived out into the tank, her arms outstretched, her hands ready to fend off plasteel. She heard Kal give a gusty exhalation as he threw himself off the tier behind her.

  Using the biggest chunks of plasteel as mini pylons, Quiver worked her way down to where Melody was staring up at them, waiting for help.

  Chapter Four

  The tankball schedule was cancelled for at least a month, while the disaster was dealt with.

  That put any decision about her future on hold and gave Quiver a chance to think. The first thing she did with her new-found spare time was to find the hospice where Micah was recovering and go to visit.

  Only he wasn’t alone when she got there. From across the anteroom, she could see Melody standing at the end of the bed, gripping the heavy stand that was holding up Micah’s leg. Her knuckles were white. So was her face. She looked ugly again, the way she had the day Quiver had tried out.

  Quiver slowed down, not wanting to intrude. She drew closer, though. The idea of Melody being angry with Micah seemed incredible enough for her to want to understand how it could possibly have happened. Micah had saved Melody at the cost of a busted leg. Already people were starting to whisper that he would never be able to play tankball again, not as a professional groundman working in two gees all the time. A weakened knee couldn’t cope with it.

  In part, that was why Quiver had hurried here to see him. She wanted to know the truth for herself and comfort him, if it was true. She knew what it felt like. She’d had her dream snatched away. One of her dreams, at least.

  To be angry at Micah now of all times seemed almost ungrateful. So Quiver edged closer and eavesdropped.

  “…don’t really mean it, Melody,” Micah said weakly. “You’re upset. Of course you are. The injuries, the trauma. You’re not thinking clearly.”

  “What injuries?” she demanded. “Scrapes and bruises. Mild concussion. Your do-gooder little friend and Kallon made sure everyone was taken care of. You’re the only injured one still lying around.”

  Silence.

  Quiver swallowed. What had gotten into Melody? She loved him, didn’t she?

  “I see,” Micah said stiffly.

  “I have worked my ass off for fifteen years to make it to the professionals. I’ve networked and stayed friends with the biggest creeps in the leagues because they had connections. I’ve practiced and fought and been nice until my jaw ached with it.”

  “I see,” Micah said again. This time there was a note of defeat in it. He really did see where Melody was going.

  So did Quiver. She closed her eyes, hating Melody for what she was about to do, yet unable to move away from the door.

  “I didn’t work so hard to get here, only to end up with a mechanical engineer hanging off my arm,” Melody said. Her voice quavered.

  Fury stirred in her chest. Quiver launched herself at the door. She would explain a few things to that ungrateful—

  She didn’t move anywhere, for Kal’s hand slapped over her mouth, his arm around her waist and she was moved backward, lifted up off her feet as if she weighed nothing. She knew it was him. His scent, the size of his hand…it could only be him.

  She kicked and struggled, making staff in the room look at them sharply, until Kal put her down and turned her around. He shook his. “You can’t go in there. I know you want to beat her up because Micah is your friend, but they have to sort it out themselves.”

  She fumed.

  “I applaud your loyalty,” he said more gently. “It’s one of your better qualities and it put you in this mess in the first place, so just listen to me for a minute, huh?”

  Startled, she looked at him.

  Kal turned and beckoned her. “Coffee,” he said firmly. “For once, we talk as civilized people do, with a table between us and normal gravity.”

  * * * * *

  They ended
up on sitting on a park bench in the Aventine markets, a coffee each and a sweet roll to share between them.

  “I read Esme’s copy of the results of the investigation into the wall collapse this morning,” Kal said. “You were right, all the way down the line.”

  Quiver pressed her lips together. “Not that knowing ahead of time did any good.”

  “It has done some good,” Kal said. His gaze met hers. Then he looked away and drank his coffee.

  “What were you doing in the hospice?” Quiver asked. “Did you come to see Micah?”

  “I came looking for you. Your mother told me where you were.”

  “Oh.” She stole a bit more of his half of the roll and looked up at him. She wasn’t sure she liked normal gravity. He looked big and far stronger than her when they were in it.

  “I was going to stop in to see Micah, too,” he said. “I think I’ll wait a while on that one.”

  “It’s true then. Micah’s career is over.” She felt sad. Tankball had been his life.

  “It seems we’re all coming to the end of things at the moment. Your ambitions to be a scientist are dead. Tankball is dead—for now, anyway. Not that you want that for a career.”

  “Actually….” She put her cup down. Her hand shook.

  He grew still.

  “I was thinking that maybe…”

  “You’ll play,” he finished.

  She nodded. “It hit me just now, listening to Melody dump all over Micah. He can’t play, but I can. I’m just as good at it as Micah.”

  “Better,” Kal said. “You’re a natural. Micah had to work for his skills.”

  “There’s just one thing…you said I wasn’t a team player.”

  He shook his head and pushed the last of the roll toward her. “You’re more of a team player than anyone realized, even me. You’re the one that launched herself out into mid-air to go collect wounded team mates. You’re so loyal you refuse to consider playing for anyone but the Hawks when we both know you could dictate any terms you want, with any team. You’re loyal to your parents, enough so you’d put yourself through a try out just to make them happy.”

  “And Micah, too,” she added, her heart thudding.