Page 8 of Braden

She wanted to ask him about his life but since he was an active duty Special Forces operator she figured most of his missions were classified and probably none of them were memories he wanted to revisit on vacation. Still her curiosity nagged at her. “Tell me one true thing about your life,” she said finally, picking up her cranna juice and swirling the ice cubes in the glass.

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ve got brothers in arms I trust with my life and vice versa. As long as you’ve got a good man or woman at your back, nothing is impossible.”

“I like that,” she said. Since he was finishing up his sandwich, she asked another question. “We never did talk about our families. You met my stepmother and stepsisters last night. My mother died when I was five and my father passed away a few years ago. How about you?”

He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

“He was in a commercial shuttle crash.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. It had been five years yet she inevitably teared up when she thought about it.

Braden watched her closely for a minute and then answered her original question. “I come from a large family actually. Two brothers, two sisters. I’m the oldest. The oldest cousin in my generation too. Ardannans tend to have large families so I have maybe fifty cousins, depending on who might have had a baby since I was home last. We’re a mountain clan, farming, selling wool and yarn, handcrafts—you name it and the Hartwell family has a hand in it. We don’t have time for me to tell you all the ventures my family has going on.”

“But you went into the military?” she asked.

“It’s traditional in my family so most of the men enlist and serve at least one cycle. Not so many of the women, but a good number. Hey, we’d better get going or we’ll miss the pregame warmup. Gotta do those stretches or risk pulling a muscle or worse, you know.”

“You sound so enthusiastic.” Elodie left the table and gathered her things. Braden picked up his second smaller bag and waited for her at the door.

Chapter Three

Enthusiastic? Hell, yes, he was pumped about the morning’s event. Who would have ever dreamt he’d share a playing field with Renald Desanch and other SIPTL professional players? Determined to uphold the reputation of the Ardannan Special Forces, he trotted onto the field ready to go all out. Renald gathered the men in a circle and introduced a man who really needed no introduction, Marv Veronix, star back from a perennial conference champion and three-time winner of the Sectors Trophy. He and Renald were perpetual candidates for the MVP award each season.

“Marv is captain of the other team today,” Renald announced. “We’ve divided the professional athletes between the teams, trying to be fair. I’ll read off the other assignments in a minute but first a reminder we’re playing flag tisba, not the real thing so no tackles. Tamarind won’t be happy if anyone breaks a bone today and has to bow out of the wedding party or sit on the sidelines. I’m assuming we’ve all played tisba before” —there was general laughter from the group—“so let’s get out there and have fun. IDA brought in a team of SIPTL referees for the occasion, just to keep us all honest.” He indicated a group standing nearby in black and white uniforms, who smiled and waved.

The credits being spent on this week could buy a whole planet, Braden thought to himself. His family was considered well to do on Ardanna and he’d spent time with Nikko and lesser members of the royal family but compared to the riches Renald and Tamarind were casually tossing around, he and his relatives were paupers. Who imports an entire team of SIPTL referees to supervise a game of flag tisba? Well, these people obviously. Elodie had certainly invited him into a whole new world with her request to be her date for the week.

Next the two captains put them through a vigorous sequence of exercises and stretches, which didn’t faze Braden. He kept himself in top physical condition all the time since his life and the lives of his team could depend on it. He saw some of the other guests wheezing a bit, red-faced and already tiring. Chet was on the opposing team and coping with the exertion fine so far. Braden kept an eye on him, trying to imagine Elodie as part of a couple with the man, which stirred unusual jealousy up but also disbelief. Chet didn’t seem like the type to appreciate a woman like Elodie—quiet, reserved, sensitive, gorgeous, yes, but in a vastly different style than the maid of honor, Chet’s current fling who was frankly all ass and tits and come hither. It was like she couldn’t turn it off even if she was in a relationship with Chet.

Phony, that was Braden’s take on it.

The game began with a booming kickoff from Marv’s kicker, who was a SIPTL player.

Tisba balls were deceptive, looking like any other round ball with alternating patterns of black and white but inside each one was a microscopic AI and a tiny antigrav impeller, both of which came to life periodically, sending the ball in a different direction from its original course. Renald’s fame and success were built in part on his uncanny ability to sense when the ball was going to ‘come alive’ and veer off. He was usually ahead of it and had endured countless conspiracy theories of having an AI chip in his head to communicate with the one in the balls. Renald had even had a special sensor test run at a big Inner Sectors medcenter to verify there was no such chip. He was naturally gifted and damn good. As the group played, Braden observed most of the SIPTL players had the same ability to one degree or another, anticipating the ball instead of chasing it. To his astonishment, he also seemed to have the ability, if he’d let himself. After the first quarter, in which he’d resisted his instincts, he let go and played more from the heart. At one point he intercepted a pass from Marv and took it all the way to the goal for seven points. The referee called it back for a penalty but on the next play Braden was able to score again.

“You should have tried out for one of our farm teams,” Renald told him as they were assembling for the next kickoff. “You’re damn good.”

“Thanks but the military was my calling,” Braden said, taking an electrolyte bottle from one of the sideline aides and gulping it down. “This is fun today though. Thanks for hosting this.”

“It is fun, isn’t it?” Renald shook his head. “This is the way tisba should be, just a bunch of guys or girls out on the field for the sheer joy of it.” Snapping out of his reflective mood, the star added, “Of course no one pays me the big credits to play flag tisba. No endorsement deals here.” He nodded and moved away to his position on the field as the teams lined up.

Chet was on Marv’s team, which Braden found interesting since he was Renald’s best man and old friend. The two didn’t interact much. Chet was definitely a weekend athlete, despite his gym-built muscles. He stayed on the fringes of the action and when a ball came to him unexpectedly he muffed it. Braden ran into him, flattening him to the grass unintentionally. Chet cursed and refused the offer of Braden’s hand as he stood up. He glared at the nearest official. “Call the penalty, throw the damn flag. What are you waiting for?”

“Accidental contact,” the ref ruled immediately. “No foul. Play ball, boys.”

“Do that again, jackass,” Chet said to Braden as the two men trotted to the line. “And I won’t hold myself back.”

Incredulous, Braden blinked. “You do know what I do for the day job, right? You and ten of your pals couldn’t take me, not in a fair fight or a dirty one. You don’t scare me.”

“Cheap talk.” Chet spat and walked away to take his position.

Braden shrugged it off but his opinion of Chet sank even lower.

The game ended in a tie, which Braden strongly suspected Renald and Marv and the other professional athletes had managed but the referees declared themselves satisfied and Braden couldn’t point to any one play or movement which had been false. When he jogged to the sideline to collect his things from the bench, Elodie was waiting.

“Hey, did your game finish early?” he asked, happy to see her.

“We never did play, not enough girls showed up. I’ve been over here cheering for you—didn’t you notice?”

“Sorry, I was kinda focused, but I’m glad you’re here now.” He pulled her close and gave her a kiss on the lips, telling himself it was for the benefit of the bystanders and maintaining their ruse about their relationship but he knew the truth. He wanted to kiss her and he did. What’s more, she responded after a second’s hesitation.