In the capsule ride down to the field, Aiden would have liked to talk strategy before the match started, but his teammates had suddenly developed the attention spans of a fly, fixated on the near-miss crossfire they had just witnessed.

"I wanna shoot something like that on the range at home," said Juster, his eyes shining, no doubt replaying spectacular impact the missile had made. "I'll ask Dad if he can buy one from the dealer he gets his arms shipments from."

"Hey, no fair," complained Jukon. "I was gonna ask him first."

"I called it first. Besides, I bet we'll get all the ammo we need, not just one shot."

"But I want my own!"

"You guys seeing this footage?" said Mateo. His eyes had that faraway look that meant he was viewing something on the net via his cyberware. "The mechas are moving in — whoa, looks like they have those new personnel-level energy shields everyone's been talking about. The taggers are using plasma guns but nothing's getting through. Whoof — those fuckers are done."

Denver frowned, and his own eyes glazed over briefly as he checked the net for himself. "Where are you seeing all this? They're not letting any of the news stations past the perimeter."

"Surf the indy uploads, goon. People are recording from the office buildings."

"Are we getting ready for ziv-ball or what?" interrupted Aiden. "Just a minute ago, you goons were getting psyched up about the semifinals. I feel like I'm getting ready to play with five-year-olds." To his right, he noticed the new girl eyeing them all disdainfully. "What? You got something to say?"

The girl shrugged. "Y'all are the ones getting googly-eyed over some street shootout. I'm only here to have fun."

Denver's face refocused. "No, you're right, Aiden. We should sharpen up." He gestured towards the new girl. "By the way, guys this is Natalie — Natalie, the guys."

Natalie gave a little wave, and Mateo nodded back.

"Hi Natalie," said Jukon.

"Hope you don't die," said Juster.

The capsule tube slowed as it reached the final moments of its descent, and the glass screen encircling them retracted into its lid. The group stepped out onto the landing strip behind the border line of the arena.

Out before them rose the arena: a giant, plexiglass-filled dome with struts criss-crossing its surface. Its middle was ringed by spectator seats, and funneled down below that lay the actual field, which was as big as a football stadium and constructed of a translucent metal revealing the muddy outlines of cars and rotorcycles flitting back and forth underneath. Despite playing here many times, Aiden couldn't help feeling like an ant at the bottom of one of those ancient 20th-century light bulbs.

The arena lights were on, dimming the natural sunlight slanting in, but Aiden could tell it was sunnier than usual outside. A strong wind was blowing in from the coast, and the ever-present smog that hung around the skyscrapers of Neocopy had cleared to reveal an uncharacteristically blue sky, if tinted somewhat gray by residual pollutants.

Natalie pointed. "Who's that?"

Aiden followed her gaze. A member of the Huang's security detail, a stoic, East Asian man named Burt, was watching from high above in the stands. Aiden waved to him. Burt nodded but did not wave back.

"Someone from my family's security detail," he said.

"If he's your bodyguard, why wasn't he with you in the waiting room?"

Aiden gave her an odd look. "No corporate security are allowed on campus except for sporting events. It's Terminary policy."

Natalie didn't speak for a moment. Then she said, "So you're one of those really rich kids, huh?"

So are you, right? Aiden almost said, staring at her for a moment before putting on his helmet. His visor went opaque. "Where'd you transfer from, again?"

Natalie pretended not to hear him. Denver strode out in front, scanning the field and nodding. "Good, no panels are misaligned this time — the surface looks flat enough. We don't have to worry about breaking our ankles like last time." He rubbed his hands together. "Right, we have about ten minutes. Final gear check." He gestured towards the rest of the team, and they inspected their ziv-suits for any loose seals, running system checks, making sure their cyberware was synced up with the arena-suit interface for score metrics, message notifications, and alerts for when fouls were given out.

"Don't forget to switch on the lev-pads on your boots, elbows, and knees," Denver said to Natalie, who had finished her check early and was standing rather awkwardly to the side. "They're the only thing allowing you to traverse the arena once the Latham Field is switched on."

"The what Field?"

"Your lev-pads and the plane five inches above the arena will have the same charge," said Denver patiently. "The repulsion causes the levitation and lets you move freely around." He touched a hand to the side of his helmet, and a holographic display of his HUD projected in front of him. "See that icon with the triple chevrons and the dial? That's your speed and accelerometer. The levels are capped pretty generously, so you can practically go as fast as you want — but once all three chevrons go dark, they take a couple minutes to recharge, so use them wisely."

Natalie pushed on her helmet; she'd tied her braids back into a conservative bun, and the ziv-material conformed flexibly around her head. Then she activated her lev-pads, and her foot soles, elbows, and knees lit up briefly with a soft yellow glow. A holographic double-ring appeared around her upper arm — blue was their team color.

She held up a palm experimentally. "Can you control the strength of polarity on the gloves?"

"No, only repulsion and attraction, and the maximum distance that you can control either option is about five inches from the ball. In any case, it's better to keep the ball close to you if you're running the track."

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"I'm the designated track runner," said Mateo, who was by the starting line stretching a hamstring. "Newbies don't run the ball unless they have to. Go too slow, and you get caught. Go too fast, and you get pasted on the walls."

Jukon was doing windmill arm exercises, his team color symbol blurring in the air. "Yo, Mateo, you can pace quicker than last time. Me and Juster got your flanks."

"I'll pass off the ball on the second circuit if I'm close to getting caught. Watch for guard traps this time, would you?"

"They'll catch up," said Denver. "I heard Devon's team has good offense."

"More like good size," said Aiden dismissively. "They're just big freaks of nature."

Natalie smirked. "Sounds like someone has a short boy's complex. Jealous of a little height?"

Aiden cleared his visor so it became transparent again. "You don't know what you're talking about; I've taken down bigger. All you need is mass and a little momentum."

Natalie laughed derisively (Aiden almost shoved her) and asked Denver, "What were you saying about the panels being straight this time?"

"Oh, that? The ground is divided into panels. When you put a pulse out through your boots, it creates a ramp in front of you. The stronger the pulse, the closer the ramp starts to form. To get an optimal jump, you need good timing and the right distance."

Natalie grinned. "That's so dope."

"Conductive ziv is all it is." Denver gave her a cautious look. "I wouldn't try for anything too high for your first time, though."

"I'm not afraid of heights."

"It's getting back down without ker-splatting that's the problem," said Aiden. "Or in your case, the solution."

High above them, a hologram of a screen timer materialized out of thin air. The message board underneath read: Two minutes to game initiation. Prepare for toss-up.

"All right," said Denver sternly to Aiden and Natalie, who were nearly butting foreheads and practically steaming out their ears. "Enough, you two — it's time to play."

By the time the thirty-second countdown began, Aiden's team had all lined up by the starting line on their end of the arena. In their sleek gray-and-white ziv suits, they looked like camouflaged astronauts attempting to race on the moon.

The Latham field switched on with an electric buzz, and the floor gained an ocean-blue tinge; there was now a visible layer of repulsive charge between the top of the field and the physical floor of the arena. Tendrils of light flickered up in spots like solar flares.

A start-up came over their headset feeds — the public comms channel had opened as soon as the timer had appeared — and Devon's voice filtered in.

"A warning to the losing side," he said. "If you like having your limbs attached to your bodies, you should give us the toss-up."

Aiden was about to let loose a flurry of expletives when Denver punched his shoulder.

"Goon, chill out."

Aiden glared at him, not that Denver could see it through the tint of his visor, and spoke anyway. "I'm supposed to write a letter of apology for what happened between us, Devon. After this, there might be multiple things I'll have to say sorry for."

"Oooh," drawled Devon. "Now I'm really scared."

The timer's numbers continued their steady countdown, changing shades to orange.

Way off in the middle of the arena, a fissure spiraled open like a camera lens, and the glowing, metallic ziv-ball emerged in its center, rising up on a bed of electromagnetic charge.

The timer flashed red: 3...2...1...

Aiden tensed, bracing his legs. As soon as the holographic board flashed green, he activated his heel thrusters and exploded forward along with his teammates, his boots sliding effortlessly over the near-frictionless electromagnetic layer like hockey skates. His soles lit up green every time he made contact with the field.

At the same moment, the ziv-ball launched upwards as if shot from a cannon. Whichever team caught the ball first was free to run half their first circuit unmolested, but the risk of catching it early in mid-air meant a very hard fall.

"I'm going for it!" said Denver over their teams channel. "Mateo, get ready for the pass once I clear the halfway mark."

"Check that," said Mateo, and he peeled away.

"I'll cover your descent," offered Aiden. "Can someone run interference?"

"On it," said Jukon and Juster simultaneously.

"What should I do?" said Natalie.

"Stay out of the way," replied Aiden immediately.

"Stay with Jukon and Juster," said Denver. "Run defense, but try not get hit."

A disturbance jockeyed under their feet like ripples in a pond as Denver sent a pulse out in front of him. Several panels bent smoothly in response, curving into a ramp that crested nearly thirty feet at its peak.

On the other side of the field, Aiden spied Devon urging one of his teammates forward; the biggest of the group, he looked like a truck without the wheels. Aiden was momentarily confused. Why was Devon sending his primary ball-carrier for the toss-up, someone so clearly unsuited for the aerodynamics of a mid-air catch?

But Denver had already zipped up his ramp and launched into the air, followed soon after by Devon's handpicked teammate. But Truck Man had lifted off too slow, the gap in their trajectories was huge; they both seemed to hang for a moment, suspended, arms outstretched for the ziv-ball now being dragged inexorably back to earth.

Then out of nowhere, a body blurred into view and smashed into Denver from the side, sending Denver hurtling to the ground. Truck Man twisted, leaned back, caught the ziv-ball as it descended, attaching neatly to the polarizers on his gloves.

It took Aiden a second to figure out what happened. One of Devon's mates had drafted behind the other, screening him from view as he prepared a ramp along the sloping side of the arena and came off the curve in an inverted jump, intercepting Denver in the center.

Denver landed hard in the bowl of track, cushioning his fall with his elbows and knees on the Latham Field, before rolling a couple times to a painful stop on the hard metal of the arena.

A guffaw burst out over the teams channel. Then Mateo said, "Sorry — don't know why I did that. Is Denver okay?"

Denver's voice came over between gasps. "Arrgh...shit...I think my arm is broken. You guys'll have to play without me."

"We can't do this with one man down!" protested Jukon.

"That's a foul, right?" commented Natalie, baffled. "Surely that's not legal?"

She was half-right: Devon's team could be penalized for violent maneuvering, but the move could also be interpreted as a strategy to get two guys on the toss-up from different angles. Aiden knew instantly a case could be made for both, and the fact that the reg-AI hadn't sent out a foul alert meant they were out of luck.

"Shit, do we forfeit?" said Mateo. "Our team captain's out of commission, goon."

Aiden gritted his teeth. Denver was their best player and they all knew it, but the last thing Aiden wanted to do was lose once more to Devon. "We are not forfeiting, we just gotta regain our ground."

"Did you see how hard he hit him?" said Jukon with a note of fear. "Semifinals or not, I didn't come here to break anything."

"Jukon, will you shut the hell up?!" yelled Aiden. "We're wasting time — look!"

By now, Devon's ball-carrier had already completed their first loop and was three-quarters the way through the second. Despite Juster's half-hearted attempt to block at the quarter-line, the guy blew past without a second glance, twisting at the last second to continue speeding on along the curve.

It had been only half a minute since Denver had fallen and they were already seriously behind.

Denver's lone figure struggled up to the edge of the field. His voice was strained. "You got this, guys. I believe in you." Then he crossed the border into the capsule landing area, and his ID was removed from the group chat, now officially out of the game.

From the other side of the field, slowly banking to cover his teammate's steady progress on the circuit, Devon waved mockingly at Aiden. His voice trickled out over the public channel.

"I warned you, didn't I? Some people are as lucky as they are dumb."

Natalie began to skate slowly forward. From the motion of her helmet, she was tracking the opposing team's ball carrier as he rounded the track. She was better at balancing on her ziv-boots than Aiden had expected. Although five inches off the ground, on a surface as potentially unstable as ice, she seemed as comfortable as if they had been on walking on the street.

Juster turned to Aiden. "Okay, now what do we do?"

Natalie glanced back at them, shrugged blithely. "It's not over 'till it's over."

The first time we've agreed on anything, thought Aiden. He narrowed his eyes. "What do we do? We take the ball."