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After getting his nose repaired, he returned to the sphere. The others were running drills when he climbed back up into the low gravity environment. The weightlessness was almost a comfort – like an old familiar toy or blanket.
The thruster boots and gauntlets he wore were activated and operated by his gloves. He twitched his fingers, effortlessly flying up towards the others. It was similar technology to that which made hovers fly, but it was much smaller and significantly weaker – meant only for operation in zero-g.
Sal gave him a look as he tossed the ball between his hands. It wasn’t lit up at the moment since they were only running drills. He tossed the ball to him, and Rane caught it with one hand. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his captain’s eyes said enough.
They broke off into position and re-started the drill. It was a standard defense evasion play. The three beaters were coming after Rane and the other two strikers just to get the ball. Back to basics – which was probably done on purpose since Rane was messing up so badly lately.
Trikball was the most popular sport in the Coalition. Any group of seven could form a team and join the Solar Trikball League in which their planet resided, which had a championship once a year. The winners of those leagues would then be invited to participate in the Coalition Trikball League – which also took place once a year. The champions of the entire Coalition therefore needed to play two full years in order to win the final game.
His team was right in the middle of the second year, and they had high hopes of being victorious instead of losing in the semi-finals as they had two years ago. If Rane could just get it together and actually play decently.
If the rest of practice was any indication, he could not.
He knew what to do. What moves to make. His brain easily plotted out the next best course of action to avoid blows, get the ball up to the goal, and evade the beaters.
He just… didn’t do it.
And he thought maybe his team was fully aware that, at least on some level, it was a choice, because their attitudes towards him were outright hostile as they finished up practice and returned to the locker room to shower and change.
The beaters – Cole, Zell, and Tarou – gave him cold looks as they moved around the room. And while that might be normal for Cole, Tarou was notoriously nice at all times. Rane must have really been doing bad today if he tested even his nerves.
The other two strikers, Louve and Arus didn’t say anything at first, but they kept sending each other looks behind his back that he could practically hear. He wasn’t at all surprised when the two of them followed him back to the shower rooms.
They didn’t say anything, however, as they parted into the stalls by themselves. Rane removed his claw caps and set up the spray that fell from directly above. Telfay males had very sharp claws. Sharp enough to even cut themselves or others on accident. It was normal to wear the caps just for ease of living, if not dull them outright. It was considered more attractive to keep them, however.
Maybe he should start dulling them then. But humans didn’t have claws, right? Maybe it was best he keep them and see if he could scare her off.
Ignoring the shudder of revulsion that thought carried with it, he removed his clothes and straps and stepped under the cold water.
The temperature was a shock, but a welcome one. He grunted in discomfort, his crest plastering down to his head in a reflexive reaction to try to keep his scalp dry and warm, but he forced them up, allowing water to coat each of his feathers.
It was a short shower. Just long enough to clean himself – Sal made him shower before practice to get all the accumulated filth off him already, so it didn’t matter now. He was trying to get out before Louve and Arus, but he stepped out and saw them waiting for him, both with towels slung around their waists. They must have barely rinsed off to have beaten him, and it had clearly been deliberate.
Rane stopped in front of them, unable to get past without physically shoving his way through. He might be willing to play badly – not really a conscious decision, but certainly not a legitimate mistake – but he still liked the males that made up his team. He didn’t want to get violent with them.
“Rane, what’s going on?” Arus asked, concerned. He had white gold skin with a hot pink crest and deep, gray eyes. He was a very kind individual, coming from a family of poets and artists. He was the odd male out being interested in trikball instead, but he retained the same gentle attitude as the rest. His skill on the court came more from his speed and acrobatics, not aggression.
“Nothing,” Rane mumbled.
“Don’t even start with that,” Louve snapped, fists clenched tight as he glared at him. Not with anger, just with frustration. He had bright gold skin with a purple crest and dark brown eyes. Completely opposite of Arus, he came from a long line of sport players. Trikball was a tradition in his family, and he claimed it ran in his blood. Rane had learned more about the game from Louve than any other source in his life.
The two of them plus himself made up the strikers of the Eliviers. They were a team within a team and should have been closer than anyone else.
But all he could say was, “I’m just feeling off today.”
“Oh, shut up with that nonsense!” Louve snapped.
“Hey,” Arus frowned, reaching out. “We said we weren’t going to lash out at him.”
Oh, they talked about this beforehand, more than just exchanging glances. Rane wasn’t surprised, but it was still somehow a painful blow.
“No,” Louve yanked free of Arus’ grip, glaring at Rane. “What is with you, huh? You’ve always been a problem, but you’ve never been this bad before! We could at least count on you to keep it together in the sphere. What’s wrong with you lately?”
Rane couldn’t speak.
They already knew that his mother held guardianship over him still, despite his age. And that was humiliating enough on its own. It was public knowledge, and his greatest shame. Even just thinking about it curdled his belly like a foul poison.
He had earned that fate because of the out-of-control lifestyle he lived. Which they also knew about. Though, they didn’t know it hadn’t initially been his fault. He only continued to live this way now because, well, if he was going to be punished for debauchery, he might as well enjoy all the perversions and pleasures that came with it, right? If he didn’t, his mother would just ensure that it looked like he did anyway, so who cared?
