I discover during the next game that the Blood Suns had built up a lot of fear and anger over the idea of playing the Milkmaids, all of it feral and brutal. I know this because they unleash it all against a freshman team called the Whimsions. They never stood a chance. What makes it even worse is that for the entire first half we’re playing a bunch of moon-faced kids. They’d all won some idiotic planetary contest and stood in for the regular players. The match receives an abnormal amount of media coverage. Most of it beams back to their homeworld so the parents can watch their kids play real spaceball!
We annihilate them. We beat them so badly that I feel sorry for them.
I know Laura feels sorry for them, too, because I hear about it for three days. We don’t actually have a discussion about the team’s behavior. No honest debate over whether it’s acceptable for pirates to rant at teenagers on the ASC. We don’t even a fight about my decision to keep scoring when we were crushing them 88-3. I already know that I did something wrong and felt dirty for it, but she digs the knife in by sending a steady stream of withering comments in my direction. I’m not interested in having my sex privileges revoked, so I know better than to talk back. That’s a lose-lose all around. I’ll admit that I have a truly difficult time keeping my mouth shut, though. We’re talking a Herculean effort. I should get a medal. Things like:
“Their mothers were watching them play.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t take it easy after it was clear you were going to win.”
“Little old grandmothers had to listen to the ASC feed. There are things no person should have to listen to, and they heard it all. Grandmothers, Rick.”
“Is it possible to charge coaches with unsportsmanlike conduct?”
“Don’t you have any humanity left?”
“How does it feel to completely grind away the love for spaceball in so many people, all at once?”
“Karma’s a bitch, Rick.”
That last one hits home hard, because even without Mrs. Remind Me of My Shortcomings, karma is on my mind. My feeling on karma is this: what goes around definitely comes around. But if you step out of the way and think you’re smart for dodging disaster, your smugness acts as a super-dense core that slingshots the karma around even faster, so that the next time you see its fury it’s been transformed into a hurtling fireball of doom. I dread what it’ll look like. What the hell can be worse than the Milkmaids? And will it spread out over the whole team to lessen the blow, or aim directly at me? Can I avoid it, leaving myself open for karma’s third revolution? Do I dare? A collision like that might be seen from orbit.
I don’t have to wait long. Karma’s reply arrives a day later and sucker punches me in the face.
***
I’m eating my lunch on the observation deck while the team runs drills. Bucky’s poring over defense plays with Janine. They’re concentrating real hard and completely ignoring me. That’s fine because I don’t like talking to Janine. He’s watching her talk like every word falling out of her face is molten gold with fairies sticking out of it. The two of them don’t even look up when the newcomer steps out onto the deck.
I’m a little surprised. Security isn’t supposed to let just anybody onto the ship. But one look at the woman and I know why she made it here. I know why they let her pass.
She’s short. An old pair of flight goggles rests on bright blue hair she’s pulled away from her face and tied with a fluorescent pink scrunchy. A brown leather jacket covers a black tactical vest, a red open-necked shirt with wide lapels, and black pants tucked into calf boots. She isn’t wearing any makeup and she’s got lots of freckles. I can’t see any weapons, but I know from experience that people in her line of work don’t go anywhere without at least one monofilament blade. The silver badgers on the lapels of her jacket mark her. She works for the League.
A Bookie.
She shouldn’t be here. At least, not for Bucky. He said that he’d gotten the genetic modification. His addiction had cleared. She couldn’t be here for him. Most of my brain believes that, but a small glimmer flickers in the back corners where I don’t like looking and whispers, I told you so, you fucking dickhead.
The Bookie takes in the entire room in a glance and locks onto Bucky.
“Martin Clementine Buchannan!” she shouts.
Bucky freezes stock still, like a woodland animal that has crossed paths with a dangerous predator.
Janine jumps to her feet. “Bucky, who is that? How do you know her? You better not be—”
The Bookie sneers. “Honey, dream on. You can keep the wrinkled old bag. I got better things to do than shag the leftovers.” She turns her attention back to Bucky, who’s creeping away and freezes again. “Mr. Buchannan, you owe Mr. Diggles and diverse others three million and change. On behalf of the League and the Gambling Debt Resolution Department, I’m here to collect.”
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“THREE MILLION!?” I shout. “Bucky, you said you only owed a hundred grand to that Milo guy!”
“Milo is not Mr. Diggles,” the Bookie says, “and while Milo’s debt is included in this collection attempt that amount is insignificant compared to what Mr. Buchannan owes Mr. Diggles.”
Flash boil achieved. “Bucky! What the fuck? You said you were clean! You said you had an operation to fix your gambling problem!”
He shrugs. “Yeah, about that. I sort of made it up.”
“I know! There’s a Bookie here! Bucky, the only reason I hired you was because you said you had that operation, and now I find out that you lied to me? That you’re still gambling with money you don’t have? That you’re still fucking up your life and everyone else’s around you?”
“Me?!” Bucky yells, standing up. He crosses the room and grabs the front of my shirt. “You ruined everything when you shot that bee! We were gonna lose that game and I was gonna make a shitload of money! I was gonna make back what I owed and then some! But then you lost your fuckin’ cool and shot a fuckin’ referee!”
Something shatters in my head and I push him away. “What? Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute! Did you bet against us? You bet against me?”
He snorts. “Of course! I had it all planned out! It was a sure thing! You sleep with the ref’s wife, you practically guarantee that we lose. That asshole would call every little foul on us. It was such a fuckin’ sure thing, and you fucked it up so fuckin’ bad!”
I raise a hand. Drop it. I actually hear the squelch in my head when the rotten pieces fall into place. “Did you … Did you set me up with that Veeni?” Bucky grimaces. I can’t believe it. It’s like I’m looking at a different person. A person I don’t know is standing before me in the skin of an old friend. I feel like I’ve been run over. “You … You … Why?”
“I owed Mr. Diggles, Rick, and you don’t want to owe Mr. Diggles. He was gonna kill me. Kill me slow. He was gonna put me into a vat of rats. They’d have gnawed off my feet first. Then my shins. My knees. He’d use drugs to keep me from sinking into shock. Said I’d feel it all. Said I’d scream myself hoarse. Said I’d break my own wrists trying to get out of the cuffs, trying to escape. You get the picture. So, I told him I could throw the Cup game. I got the Veeni woman to sleep with you – she hated her husband and wanted to embarrass him. The rest would’ve taken care of itself, if you hadn’t shot the guy.”
“I don’t get it. We lost. You should’ve been in the clear.”
Bucky shakes his head. “The League struck the game from the records. Said it was tainted, that the ref wasn’t in his right frame of mind. Took ‘em awhile, but after they made the ruling, I guess Mr. Diggles had to pay back some debts.”
The Bookie claps her hands. “Thanks for the history lesson, Mr. Buchannan. So, now that we’re all up to date, I’d like to collect the three million now. Mr. Diggles and diverse others have been fined for accepting gambling tickets from team employees, which is against League rules. The fines have been suspended pending your repayment, but should you fail to come up with the money, the fines will be reimposed. I assure you, they are quite heavy. Diverse others shall be diversely displeased. You should also be aware that if I can’t collect the money now, you will be banned from the League effective immediately, and that I will also break both your ankles.” She grins and cracks her knuckles. “To tell you the truth, I really like breaking ankles, so if you don’t have the creds, I’d appreciate the heads-up so we can get started.”
“But Milo was going to take both his arms,” I say. “You only want to bust his ankles. Seems like you’re starting awfully small.”
“Rick!” Bucky says. “Who’s side are you on?”
“My side, you fucking asshole! Life was great for me until somebody fucked it up. I just found out it was you. Fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you!”
“Didn’t you hear what he just said?” Janine says. “They were gonna torture him to death!”
I forgot she was standing there. I was focused on Bucky like a laser beam. This was the man who ruined me. A friend, for fuck’s sake. Well, I thought he was a friend. Goes to show you how good I can pick ‘em. “They still can, for all I care.”
“You don’t mean that,” Janine says. “I know you like to play the tough guy, but you’re not that cold–”
“You don’t know me at all,” I cut her off, “so save your breath. Why, Bucky? You could have asked for help! But no, you went ahead and fucked me! For money, Bucky! You should have told the League, there are assistance programs for that crap!”
“What, and be in debt to them for the rest of my life? Thanks, but no thanks.”
“So it was better to ruin me.”
The Bookie nods at Bucky. “That was pretty low, even for us,” she says. “To be quite honest, the League is surprised that you went to such lengths. You could have easily thrown the game by inserting some less than stellar plays into the defense.”
“It wouldn’t have worked,” Bucky says. “The field AI can detect shit like that.”
“You know that isn’t true, Mr. Buchannan,” the Bookie says, “because you’ve been doing it this time again, all season. One or two games wouldn’t have mattered, like I just suggested. But you’ve been doing it in all of them, for some reason. The field AI detected that. The pattern gave you away.”
“All season!?” I yell. “You’ve been trying to fuck me all season? Again?”
“And you’ve been winning despite it,” the Bookie sats. “I usually don’t gamble, Mr. Stern, but I will place a bet or two on the Blood Suns.”
“That’s wonderful,” I say.
She gestures at me. “You should be aware that I have been monitoring your pulse and blood pressure throughout this encounter. Your surprise and anger are genuine. Since you have been unaware of your employee’s actions, you and the Blood Suns will not be held responsible.”
I nod and walk over to the door. The Bookie stands aside for me.
“Where are you going?” Bucky demands. “You know that Chippers can pay the debt, no problem! Call him and help me out, man!”
I look back at him. Maybe for the last time. I’m okay with that. “Bucky, you told me you were clean. You lied to me. You sicced a Veeni siren on me. You ruined my career. And you know what? I could forgive all that because I understand why you did the things you did.”
A flicker of hope shines in his eyes. “Thanks, Rick–”
I raise a finger. “But you hurt Laura. Your selfishness caused her pain. I’m still picking up the pieces from what you did to her. I could forgive you for what you did to me, but I’ll never forgive you for what you did to her. Never.”
“Aw, come on, she’s a bitch and you know it, you hardly even like her–”
“Bucky, shut your mouth. You shut your goddamn mouth! I’ll even make it easy for you. If you ever speak to me or Laura again, I’ll break your legs. Oh, and you’re fired, by the way.” I turn to the Bookie. “He’s all yours.”