Chapter 4

Rane

Pain exploded across Rane’s face, right over his nose, as he was sent flying. He didn’t try to block the blow. He didn’t try to recover. He hit the boundary of the sphere as the taste of blood hit his tongue and an irritated voice called out a halt to practice.

Again.

“ Tir kala fick me sundrassa, Rane!” Sal cursed at him, flying his way. “I am tired of dealing with your shit! This has got to stop!”

The lecture continued, but Rane wasn’t really listening to the team captain anymore. He was floating, looking up at the sky, hating himself. Hating his life. His nose throbbed, definitely broken, but he didn’t really care.

Curse all the stars above and the faded moon too, she had been gorgeous.

Sandy. His supposed human mate that hadn’t said a word to him, but whose looks spoke volumes, had been everything a male could dream of. Beautiful and confident and unmoved. She looked at him like a bug under her shoe.

As she should, for the things he said to her.

But it worked. Right? It had to have worked,

Rane made sure not to shower since he’d been warned she was coming, except maybe to bathe in booze. He had been acting up, ensuring that every paparazzi he could find got pics and vids of him debauching himself like there was a trophy promised at the end. There hadn’t been any females – how could he possibly have gotten hard when he was as terrified as he was? But the pictures of him hanging off them certainly made it seem like there had been.

And that was enough.

It had to be enough.

Because that prim, perfect little female that he found in his mother’s office didn’t look like the kind who would tolerate any of that. She just had to do one search of his name, and she would see what a massive screwup her ‘mate’ was.

And maybe she could still get out of here.

He could probably blame the distraction of his own thoughts for how badly he was performing in practice, but he knew it wasn’t true. In a way, he craved the pain. Trikball was a violent sport, and getting punched full in the face wasn’t unusual. But he had seen the blow coming. He hadn’t tried to move. He hadn’t dreaded being hit.

It felt right to suffer for what he was doing. It felt like the pain was necessary.

Sal seemed to think otherwise as he grabbed Rane by the wrist and dragged him down and out of the sphere court – the artificial zero-g atmosphere making it easy to cart him around like cargo to the exit tubes.

He tossed Rane down first and gravity caught him, yanking him to the ground with a painful thud that he embraced like his due. Sal came after, landing neatly beside him, turning off his thruster boots and gauntlets to stare down at Rane with a scowl.

Sal was a male with a hint of brown to his golden complexion, and his crest feathers were a deep blue instead of bright like his own. It was funny to Rane that they shared coloration, and the irony that Rane was brighter than him when he was clearly in Sal’s shadow also wasn’t unappreciated.

“What is wrong with you?” Sal asked, irritated. “You’ve always been reckless and dumb, but at least in the sphere you were hard working. You’re letting your personal issues bleed into the game and it’s causing sloppy accidents like this!”

He gestured down to Rane’s bleeding nose, that continued to drip steadily onto his chest as he sat up, wiping it off his mouth, smearing pink blood all over his forearm.

“Answer me!” Sal snapped. “What is happening with you, huh?!”

“Nothing,” Rane mumbled.

Sal growled in annoyance. “Seriously? Rane, things like this are exactly why the tribunals won’t mark you as an adult. You won’t grow up! You act like a child; you can’t be surprised when everyone treats you like one!”

Rane didn’t respond. Shame and humiliation ate at his belly. How could he explain that he had been set up? That he was like this because he had been made this way? That he only continued to act this way because he had nothing else? That if he tried, his mother always found some way to drag him back down? Why try when he knew he would fail?

“It’s not my fault…” He mumbled, so softly it might not have been heard.

But it was. And Sal let out a groan of annoyance and disappointment. “This is exactly what I mean, Rane. You can’t expect be given responsibility. You have to take it. And it starts with taking responsibility for the stupid things you do!”

Rane couldn’t argue with him. There was no point. So, he said nothing as Sal lectured him about being an adult and that, if nothing else, he owed it to the team to work hard.

Only once he finished did Sal dismiss him to go to the medical room of the stadium to get his nose fixed. On game days, there were teams that were there on the sidelines to fix them immediately so they could restart play, but this was only practice, so he had to go to the one who was paid to stand by.

Rane did as instructed, getting some quick healing to reset his nose and fuse the bones back together by the unfeeling healer. The emotionless female had been hired by his mother, and her lack of empathy was probably one of the key factors in picking her.

His team, the Eliviers , had claimed this stadium as their home a few years ago – taking it from the then reigning champs in a challenge match. Since then, they had been the champions of their planet, the best trikball team on Levtiram. They won the solar championships already and were now in the middle of the Coalition wide championships.

Rane had always wanted to be a trikball player. The fact that his dream came at the price of losing everything else seemed like a cruel twist of fate. He couldn’t even enjoy it anymore. He was the best telfay player currently in the leagues. Even when he was fucking up, he still won games. That was the only reason anyone tolerated him.

But now, he was starting to wonder if it was even worth hanging onto this dream. Trikball used to be the only thing that gave him joy, but even that was fading. If he just quit, could his mother even do anything about it?

Maybe that’s what it would take to finally free him.

And maybe then he wouldn’t have to hurt and disrespect such a pretty female.

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?

How could he tell them that? How could he spin such an unbelievable story? The tribunal that oversaw his legal transition to adulthood certainly hadn’t believed him. How could he expect that anyone else would, especially since he had started living that life. It all sounded like a weak excuse.

“Rane,” Arus gave him a sad look, crest flat to his skull. “Talk to us. We’re your friends.”

“Or I could beat it out of you,” Louvre offered, sneering.

“No one is beating anyone,” Sal’s voice suddenly cut through the extremely one-sided conversation like a hot knife.

Rane turned his eyes as the captain approached them. He was already fully dressed, his crest half raised in, no doubt, irritation. He cut Rane a hot glare.

“You want to explain yourself out there?” He asked harshly.

“Just had a bad day,” Rane said noncommittally.

“Your bad day is turning into an entire bad season.” Sal jerked his head at Louve and Arus, sending them out without a word before continuing. “I spoke to your mother.”

Rane looked away. A fact that Sal didn’t miss.

“She promised me that meeting your mate would curb these behaviors of yours.”

“I have not mated anyone. Nor will I,” Rane promised. Determined in that, at least, if nothing else.

“Then, you will find yourself without a job and off the team come the end of the season.”

“So be it.”

Sal started in surprise, clearly not expecting that to be his answer. Rane couldn’t blame him. He had helped start this team with Sal. He allowed Sal to be captain, though he had just as much right to the role, due to his experience and age that surpassed Rane’s.

But they recruited the others and formed strategies and game plans together. Sal knew very well how much Rane loved trikball. He knew how long Rane had been playing, from the junior leagues that were played flat on the ground, to the minor leagues that had their own championship, to the Eliviers that they formed together in the Solar League.

For him to accept it ending, just like that, was wrong, and they both knew it.

But Rane didn’t take the words back. He didn’t even feel bad saying them.

“You don’t mean that,” Sal finally said, waving his acceptance away. “You’re going through something, Rane. I don’t know what it is, or why you won’t just talk to us about it. You could get control of your life at any time if you just stopped all this other nonsense.”

Rane didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say to that.

Sal sighed. “Fine. I’m going to give you one more chance. Hopefully, your mother is right, and all this can be better controlled if you have a female to nest for.”

No. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t.

“Get changed, Rane. And don’t be late for practice tomorrow.”

Sal turned and started to walk away, but he turned back at the last moment, his expression softening with sorrow and the desperate need to help a friend. “I’ll be here for you, Rane. If you need it. If you need anything. Please, don’t forget that. We have such good lives. Things are going so well for us. I’d hate to see that wasted.”

Rane flinched. His concern, his care, striking him like knives. He hated it. He hated himself. He hated how easily his life spiraled out of his control.

But he said nothing, because he’d already done this. He’d already tried to argue his case, and it didn’t work out for him. Not at his initial hearing, not at any of the subsequent appeals. He was trapped in this cycle, and there was no point in trying to get out any longer.

Sal left and, when Rane finally gathered himself together again to step out of the shower room, it was to find that the others had already gone. He was alone as he returned to his locker and changed back into his street clothes.

He deliberately put on a shirt, though it went against everything he wanted.

Telfay males didn’t typically wear anything over their chest. A few did, of course. Those who were modest or those shy about their body would, but typically, a male would accent his chest with belts and straps, but nothing else.

After all, females appreciated the view, and they were triggered and turned on by the sight of males posing and preening for them. What male didn’t enjoy a female’s gaze? And it made it easier for the unmated to find their female if they were constantly ready to strut and pose.

But Rane wasn’t trying to impress his female. He wanted her gone. So, he was covering himself now, to keep her from bonding with him. To keep from impressing her. To put a block on his own feelings, because, sereei , if she wasn’t the most stunning female he’d ever seen.

No. Not going to allow it.

He dressed in extremely modest clothing – he would even go so far as to say he was practically cross dressing. Only females covered themselves completely. But it felt like something of a victory, a refusal to play into his mother’s plans that he could control.

Satisfied with that, knowing it was only a small thing but clinging to it desperately, he stowed his gear back in his locker.

The door burst open at that moment, and he turned. He was completely unsurprised to see Orza and Kirs there. Just like before, he didn’t even try to fight as the two of them grabbed him by the arms and marched him from the locker room, out of the stadium.

Though he was confused about it. Normally, they were content to just walk around him, guiding him on his mother’s order like a lost youngling. They only did this when they were parading him in front of paparazzi. But he didn’t even look drunk now. And aside from the modest, nearly effeminate clothing, he didn’t even look unusual.

But this was a fight he’d long ago learned to accept his loss in. He allowed them to drag him out to the hover and toss him inside, confused but not overly concerned. Yet.

That all changed when he realized where they were taking him. What they were doing.