There it was, the Ceres Dome.
It could be made out on the monitor as their shuttle made its way through tricky asteroid belt approach.
The port had been carved into the planetoid itself, Ceres, almost a thousand kilometers thick of solid ice and rock. The dome could be seen adjacent to the main structure of the port, tiny in comparison. The actual playing area was a sphere with a 50 yard diameter, it was surrounded by the spectator cage and team benches. All in all not an impressive building, but the mere sight of it sent adrenaline tingling through his legs. The action inside that dome was the most intense he had ever seen, the roman gladiators would have been shocked by the violence.
Gravity Ball was invented in the mining shafts of the asteroid belt. They would maneuver with their cold gas utility packs and by pushing off of crates and rocks floating around the shaft. The objective became to shoot an oblong ball into the other team’s goal, a ring with a net attached. There were only a few rules to govern play and each team had about 5 players. Now it was a full contact spectacle to watch, played across the system. Most corporations, especially the mining colonies of the asteroid belt, sponsored teams to compete.
Erwin was exactly as menacing as his name sounded, and had never expected to be playing the most dangerous game ever invented. If you ever met him in person you would have to look down, and would assume he was a ferret, used to lay lines and pipe in the narrowest of access shafts. In fact he had been. As a teenager he had signed contract with a mining colony in the belt, he had grown up knowing his future held little else. It was there that he saw his first game in person, the collisions and the formation maneuvers up close, and was hooked on the action.
Years later the company sponsored a friendly non-contact match, and provided regulation utility packs for volunteers from their two dig sites. He enthusiastically volunteered. After a quick practice session he had figured out the basics of orienting himself with the utility pack, and was surprised to find that they were used mostly for orienting rather than maneuvering. He was small and quick, propelling himself of the walls and crates with a natural ease. Erwin scored 2 goals and assisted three that game, they won 15 to 9.
When the company team lost some players, the captain said he was a natural and was to begin training with the team. It was his key to a life outside the mines. They showed him basic maneuvers and strategies; delta formation, defensive screen, knee check, slingshot, shovel pass. He loved every moment of it. He took his lumps and bruises with enthusiasm, never stopping to notice that he was half the size of the defensive players. They put him at position of winger, skirting around the perimeter of the arena and avoiding most of the concussion inducing collisions of the middle. The team ran the traditional 2-2-1, leaving one player to guard the goal from long shots, it was Erwin’s job to find a way to score.
In 3 on 3 scrimmages he could easily out maneuver the bulky defense men, learning to throw his body off obstacles and the wall at unpredictable angles and speeds. He was as ready as he was going to be, and the captain said he would ride the bench for the opening tournament at Ceres. It would be two provisional games, the lowest of three tiers down from the inter-system professionals, but he took the news as if he had been signed to a million dollar contract.
The shuttle continued at its crawling pace, bumping to the side here and there as it steered to avoid debris. Their mine had been a five day voyage in the confined shuttle, but it was worth it for his first trip to Ceres since he had signed with Hygiea Corp. The pilot made a quick announcement about the approach, and said a match had just begun between two other local teams, and he patched it to the intercom for their listening pleasure.
“…beginning of the first period. Tier 3 match, Vesta versus Pallas B at the Ceres Dome. The ball is in and the game is on. It takes an odd bounce off a center crate and is sent into Vesta territory. Today’s setup is four center crates, two solid, and a handful of boxes to the outside. The ball is gathered by Jones for Vesta, he pushes off for the middle and here it comes the action-”
Erwin could picture the scene. Inside the dome were 4 large crates, about three meters across, floating near the center of the sphere. Two of these were heavy or “solid”, making them essentially immovable, you could get a strong jump off of those. The other two were much lighter, meaning they moved when you pushed off of them, giving you less of a jump. In addition, smaller crates were called boxes, a meter across. All of these had handles affixed to them and locations were different for the beginning of every game. The players would line up on the wall of the sphere near their goal and await the ball, the npush off in a mad dash once the game started. Jones was one of the defensemen that stayed behind when the ball was thrown in, probably huge.
“Jones redirects off a box, a Pallas striker is going to miss. He’s in the crates looking for a pass before OH! Jones took a heel to the chest from Collins. Both players thrusting to regain control. Ball still in Vesta hands, a pass outside the crates. Looks like there’s a hole, NO! A box pushed by Stevens blocked the play. Ball is loose now, picked up by Hawkins going the other way for Pallas. Two with him now, looks like a delta formation. Ouch! Good body check now the formation is down to two. Another defensive check, ball passed off, down to one attacker. Can he make the shot… NO! Off the ring!”
He zoned out while the game continued, paying attention to the announcer when the crown roared, knowing they were always seconds behind the play and would describe what happened. He was wide awake now, images of gravity ball playing through his head.
Even outside the sphere the crowd was deafening. Louder than he had remembered. For the first time he looked around the locker room, he was scrawny even with a helmet and pads on, floating behind a horde of barbarians ready for battle. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. The cage opened above them and they pushed off into the dome. One by one they kicked off of the heavy crate in the center, five returned in the direction of their ring bolted to the wall, two towards their bench at the equator. Erwin followed last and lost his footing on the box, cartwheeling with a thud into another crate. The sound of laugher seemed to come from all around him, and his helmet was suddenly very hot. He grabbed a handle, oriented towards his bench, and pushed off.
From the bench they watched the other team enter, black compared to his team’s red. They were locals of Ceres, one of the many tier three teams here. Every one of them were huge, and not one slipped in the middle. The crowd roared even louder. While the captains met in the middle, the rest of the teams fired a few jets and drifted down towards their rings, each player touching it. When the captains finished they pushed off each other and drifted lazily back to their sides. The game was about to begin.
A white blur caught his eye. It was the ball being shot into the cage, they had already started. A buzzer sounded to start the clock.
The game was moving fast. It seemed like his brain was slowing down, and the speed of the game had completely left him behind. Red and Black bodies were rebounding off of crates and walls in dizzying formations around the ball.
“Kid!” He snapped out of it, his knuckles numb from gripping the bar so hard. “Get those tanks ready, looks like Sully needs a refill.”
The action in Gravity Ball didn’t stop except for serious injuries and the end of the period. Players had to stop by the bench where a cartridge on the pack was unscrewed and replaced with a full one. This had to be done about every five minutes, less if the player was playing hard or inefficiently.
“Here he comes!”
“Make it quick Kid!” Sullivan landed hard against the opening of the bench and turned around to follow the action while Erwin worked. A formation of red had the ball and was trying to get past the far side of the crates. From the cheer of the crowd it didn’t seem to have worked.
“Got it!” Erwin shrieked. Sullivan pushed off and was back into the action. A minute later a whistle sounded.
“Injury.”
“Who?”
“Black, over there, real bad hit. It looks like captain got shook up.” The team captain drifted over to the bench, clutching his arm.
“Don’t worry boys, just a broken arm. Ceres piece of shit got the worst of it.”
“You alright captain?” A deep voiced chimed in. Mack, a big defenseman.
“What the hell are you doing, get back out there.”
“My pack broke, its not firing.”
“Shit.” The captain looked at his bench, fixating on Erwin. He wasn’t sure himself. “You two get out there, looks like your turn, Kid.”
“What! Now?” Any color Erwin had was drained from his face.
“Yes, now, we need to fix Mack’s pack. Don’t worry about it remember, momentum is size AND speed. You’ve got the speed, go use it.”
Erwin adjusted his helmet and swung himself out into the arena.
The crowd noticed and erupted in jeers, he wondered if they could see his knees shaking from there.
“Any chance he’ll live?”
“We’ll see, Mack. Hurry up.”
The game restarted with a whistle. The other team had the ball, back towards their goal. Erwin pushed off the a nearby box, watching the formation come. He pushed off the wall, then a box, trying to get near them. Then he saw it, the player with the ball telegraphed his next pass. Erwin kicked as hard as he could off the light crate, it hardly moved under all his strength. The ball was passed off, coming right towards him! He reached, almost… the ball slipped past his outstretched fingers with a sigh from the crowd.
He oriented himself back towards the play. A shot missed the ring and rebounded across the arena.
“Kid! Kid!” A teammate ahead of him held out a hand for him to grab. They locked in an arm grip, putting them in a spin so fast Erwin could hardly hold on. “Now!”
They let go, standard slingshot play, sending Erwin flying along the dome wall. He oriented floor-down and saw the ball bounce off the wall ten meters ahead of him. He fired his thrusters propelling him faster forwards, gaining speed as he was literally running now around the perimeter. His feet could hardly keep up with him. When the ball was almost above his head he jumped, and felt it tight between his hands for the first time in a real game. He looked around, and beyond two approaching black players he saw the shining metal of the goal ring.
He thought he heard the captains voice from behind him, cheering him on. This was his chance . He fired his jets again, narrowly missing the reach of the first defenseman.
A teammate behind him yelled for a pass. He turned back toward the goal, just in time to see a large black boot swing into focus.
Now that he thought about it, it sounded like his captain was yelling “Lookout!”