Reach for Infinity

Sportsmanship


BRUNA, ANGELO, AND I were the last of the team to arrive in the press room. We walked into an ominous silence. Everyone else was already seated behind a long, elevated table, with Team November’s hawk logo projected behind them. Facing the podium was a wall monitor used to stitch together the faces of media personalities from around the world to create an illusion of a collocated audience – except no one was there. The monitor was a neutral gray. Coach Szarka stood near it, his back turned to us, head bent in a whispered conference with Dob Irish, the League’s marketing director. Both looked up as we came in.

“Take a seat,” Coach said.

I went first, sitting next to Min Tao, who met my gaze with a grim expression.

Dob Irish took over. “The press conference is cancelled,” he announced in a blunt, angry voice. He was a small but broad-shouldered man of florid complexion, outgoing, and well-known for his abundant smiles. I’d never seen him angry before – but cheating scandals were new to the A-League, and I approved of his outrage. “Marketing has been charged with containing the damage generated by today’s sorry incident. The A-League prospers only so long as we maintain our reputation for fairness and respect for one another, but the poor sportsmanship displayed here today puts us all at risk.”

Beside him, Coach Szarka’s scowl became so deep his eyebrows met. “That is enough, Dob. You may not like it, but we had a legitimate reason for doubt. It was our duty to file a protest–”

“Tarnishing the reputation of our most beloved player because she snatched the championship away from you.”

“Get out, Dob, before I do something we’ll both regret.”

Dob opened his mouth, reconsidered, and disappeared out the door.

I was so shocked, I could hardly breathe. I felt worse when Coach Szarka turned his scowl on us, because I knew what was coming.

“In response to our protest, Cherise’s reaction time was tested by Dr. Kyre immediately following the locker-room interview. She passed that test. So August is the legitimate winner of Game 6. The A-League requests all players refrain from discussing the incident or responding to any questions about over-enhancement. Dismissed – all but you, Juliet. I want a word with you.”

I felt cold and hot all at once, exposed and ruined and betrayed – because I knew what I’d seen. “They’re covering it up,” I whispered.

Min Tao put his hand on mine. “We’ll talk later,” he said as our teammates filed behind us, eager to escape.

I nodded, not even noticing when he disappeared. Quiet descended and I was alone behind the podium, staring at Coach Szarka. He said, “I’m not going to yell at you. I think we did the right thing. It’s important we all police the integrity of the league – but this time we were wrong. Zaid has asked that you visit Cherise and offer your apology. I advise you to do it. A reputation for poor sportsmanship is not going to help you make it to your second season.”


My hot flush was gone and all I felt was cold. “I was not the one who cheated.”

“No one cheated,” Coach insisted. “Apologize, Juliet, and hope we can put this behind us.”


FROM THE DAY I first heard of Stage One, I wanted to be part of it, this daring future aimed at building a city in space through the enthusiasm and the contributions of all the people of Earth. A city on the edge of the high frontier.

Skeptics had laughed at the business plan and called it a scam. Finance an orbital habitat from the revenue earned by a professional sports league? It could never happen!

But I was sixteen, not yet conquered by cynicism, and I thought, Why not? For decades professional sports had built mega-corporations, luxury stadiums, athletic complexes, and individual fortunes all around the world. What if all that money was channeled instead into Stage One?

I read the player qualifications, and knew they were within my reach. I’d gone from champion gymnastics in childhood to a national ranking in volleyball as a teen, so I had the necessary athleticism. Fluency in two languages was required. I was a native English speaker, knew Spanish, and had an acquaintance with Mandarin. My lack of height, which had limited my prospects in volleyball, was an advantage in the A-League, where the height restriction was 178 centimeters, because smaller people consume fewer resources and require less living space.

I applied three times before I was accepted. Afterward, I did a hundred interviews, bubbling with joy through every one of them, knowing I was one of the luckiest people in the world.


I DID NOT apologize.

I returned to my apartment instead, feeling sick. I still believed I was right, that Cherise could not have done what she did without cheating, but it was a scandal the league did not want to pursue because integrity is everything – or the illusion of it anyway. For the first time I wondered if the skeptics were right:

was Attitude a scam? Was the league’s goal really to build a city in space? Or were we here to make a handful of players and the investors who sponsored them ungodly rich?

I changed out of my jersey, determined to go to dinner, not because I was hungry, but because I was afraid to go; afraid of what the other players would say, what they would do – and I hate being afraid.


SCENTS OF COOKED fruit and spices seeped out of the dining hall, along with a low burr of sullen conversation. I hesitated in the open doorway, staring in at a packed room. It looked like every player and every coach had come to dinner at the same time. Faces turned in my direction and the volume of conversation dropped.

I squared my shoulders and entered, weaving between the tables, all too conscious of the cold glares that followed me. And though I pretended not to hear, I was offered thoughtful advice– “Next time play harder. You can’t win by complaining.”

“Even rookie stars can’t win every game, Juliet. Deal with it.”

“What did Cherise ever do to you?”

I kept my eyes straight ahead. Reached the buffet and filled up my plate and then wondered if there would be a place for me to sit.

Angelo rescued me. He caught my elbow, steering me to a table shared by Bruna and Min Tao, and on the way he whispered in my ear, “Guess who’s not here tonight?”

I scowled at him. He returned a toothy smile. “Cherise has not come out to celebrate her victory. There’s a rumor going around she’s caught a mild flu.”

“From where?” I asked skeptically. “Bit by a mech-skeeter?” He shrugged. “All sorts of things come up on the space plane.” As we reached the table, he pulled out a chair for me. “Dr. Kyre has ordered bed rest in her apartment. At least three days.”

“Three days out of sight?”

“Exactly.”


Discretion


BY THE NEXT morning, I decided to do as I’d been told and go to see Cherise. I wasn’t intending to apologize though; I just wanted to learn what I could about her ‘flu.’

Skipping the lift, I took the steep stairs down to the next level, but I hesitated at the door, alerted by a faint buzzing. It was another mech-skeeter venturing up the stairwell from somewhere below. The tiny device hovered out of reach, so I turned my back on it and opened the door. It darted through to the corridor – but to my surprise it reversed course right away, and tried to return to the stairwell. I didn’t let it. As it passed, I knocked it out of the air, crushing it against the floor with my foot.

I looked up to see Dr. Kyre, hesitating on his way out of one of the apartments – Cherise’s apartment, I realized. He was watching me with a half smile. “We’ve been invaded,” he said. “It happened a couple years ago too, just before the final game.”

Kyre was an older man, sixty-two, a fact I knew because I’d read his profile, not because he looked it. He was the physician for Teams July, August, and September, but not for November, so I didn’t know him well.

“Have you come to see my patient?” he asked. “I was told you might.”

“How is she doing?” I asked, hoping my nervousness didn’t show.

He spread his hands. “She’s been better, but she’s determined to play in the final game.”

“She is a champion.”

“I’m sure she’ll welcome your company,” he said, leaving the apartment door ajar.

I tapped on the door, pushed it wider, and then stepped inside. The apartment was like mine, with a tiny bathroom just inside the door, a bed beyond it, and the desk opposite, separated by a narrow strip of floor space. Cherise occupied that space, sitting in the desk chair, her feet resting on a foot stool concocted from a plastic box.

Her gaze challenged me. “I don’t think you’ve come to apologize.”

I slid the door shut. “Should I?”

As an answer she stood up. This simple movement was awkward and slow. She raised her arm. Her wrist flopped twice before she managed to hold her hand up. Watching her, a shudder of dismay ran down my spine.

“You see?” she asked. “This is what’s been done to me.”

So I had been right. She returned to her chair with such painful effort I wished I had been wrong. The way she sat – so stiff and motionless – it frightened me.

“You need to get treatment,” I said stupidly.

“I am getting treatment.” Her lips barely parted as she spoke. “Believe it or not, I’m better now than last night. Kyre swears he’s treated cases like this before. He assures me it’s not permanent and has promised I’ll be fine by game day.”

“I don’t understand. Why did you–”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t even suspect it. I was so angry with you for pissing on the best game I’d ever played, but as soon as I started to cool down I felt it, shooting pains in my arms and legs, a burning in my joints.” She spoke with a bitterness I could easily understand. “You were right. It wasn’t me playing that game. It was some jacked-up version of me.”

“But how did you pass the test?”

“Cheated. Kyre did the test. He protected me.”

“And the league knows that?”

“I don’t know what the league knows. I just know that no one but you is asking questions, which seems very strange until you consider how much more revenue comes in if the series runs to seven games. August must have been predicted to lose, so someone decided to help me – and so what if I got burned? I’m done anyway, right?”


I wanted to believe her, to believe she had nothing to do with it, but Cherise had her own back story. “Is it true you have an endorsement deal?”

“Oh yes. And it’s also true I’ll get paid a whole lot more if I help August take the championship. So… maybe I did this to myself?”

If she had, it was a stupid gamble – and Cherise was not stupid. “August isn’t going to win Game 7 if you’re not in top form.”

“There won’t be a Game 7 if you report me. I didn’t do anything wrong, Juliet, but if this gets out, I lose everything.”

“But if the A-League is involved in this–”

Her voice shot up an octave: “No! What is that thing doing here?” She glared at the desk, where a mech-skeeter had alighted. “I saw those in my first year.”

“Min Tau thinks they’re feeding information to a gambling network.”

She stared at the device like it was a pile of shit, freshly fallen and steaming. “A gambling network?”

“Yes.”

I smashed the skeeter so it could not betray her true condition – and I hoped there were no more in the room.


DR. KYRE MUST have reported my visit, because Dob Irish was outside waiting for me when I left Cherise’s room.

Yesterday, the marketer had accused me of poor sportsmanship, of lodging a frivolous protest because I was disgruntled. It was an insult that had left us mutually wary.

“It’s gotten a little crazy around here,” he said in an apologetic tone. “I stepped over the line yesterday. It’s just that Cherise is such a popular player. For her to be… well, it’s not just her public image that’s been hurt.”

“I’m the bad guy, right?”

His thin shoulders rose in a half-hearted shrug as a mechskeeter glided between us. “There’s work to do to repair your image.”

I didn’t answer this, allowing him to move on to what was really on his mind. “Were you able to discuss the cheating incident with Cherise?”

I wondered how much he knew. “The league has stated there was no cheating incident.”

“And… do you agree with that?”

He was fishing for a statement.

I resolved to give him one. “I was mistaken. Cherise did not cheat.”

He smiled and nodded, knowing he could spin that handful of words to everyone’s advantage. “Misunderstandings have to be expected when emotions run high.”

“And still, integrity is everything–”

“Absolutely.”

“– no matter how many millions of euros are riding on the outcome of this game.”

His smile collapsed into a dark glare. “I’ll edit that out and release the rest. It’ll help, but you need to consider what you can do to salvage your image, or I’ll be writing a negative assessment of your marketing potential for next year.”

Like everyone else on staff, Dob received a flat salary. I wondered: had he begun to believe he deserved a little more?


Don’t Ever Get Complacent


THINGS HAD GOTTEN crazy, but I was still expected to work my shift.

It was a surreal truth that hundreds of millions of euros – maybe a billion – would be in play with the last game, but we were still working stiffs, putting in our hours on the construction and maintenance of Stage One. That was one of the marketing draws of Attitude athletes. We were sold as unassuming superstars who worked hard all week just like our fans. The only difference, we got to enjoy a little glory on game day.

The assignment that day was mundane. The space plane had just docked and I was on a team assigned to unload construction materials, brought up at enormous cost.

Immense sums of money, forever swirling around us. I suited up along with Bruna, Min Tao, and three others from November. I didn’t tell them about my visit to Cherise. I was no attorney, but I was fairly sure I had an obligation to report what Cherise had told me. By keeping quiet, I’d become part of a conspiracy to hide the truth and I didn’t want to include my friends in that.

With Min Tao and Bruna, I squeezed into the airlock, our faces hidden behind the reflective gold sheen of our visors. The inner door closed and sealed.

When we first trained to go outside we were warned, Don’t ever get complacent.

Always, we followed procedure.

I hooked my tether to a wall loop and then reported to the gate marshal: “Secured and ready for depressurization.”

“Secured,” Min echoed. “Also ready.”

And then Bruna, “Secured and squared away. Let’s go.”

“Status affirmed,” the gate marshal answered. “Commencing depressurization.”

My suit inflated as air was evacuated from the lock, but even in vacuum, the finely engineered joints slid with mechanical ease.

“Suit pressures steady,” the gate marshal intoned. “Oxygen levels nominal. Are there any anomalies to report?”

We responded in turn, “Negative. All’s well.”

“Egress approved.”

I turned the manual lock, pushed the door aside, and then took a moment to admire the view: Earth looming above us as night reached the mid-Pacific, with a tiny gleam of golden lights marking the islands that were my first home.

Reaching outside, I hooked a second tether into a track ring. “Secure on two.”

“Release on one,” the gate marshal answered. “Transferring you to the shift marshal’s control.”

The shift marshal acknowledged the transfer as my first tether automatically released, leaving me free to transit outside.

The space plane was docked to the core, illuminated by artificial lights. Passengers exited through a gate, but construction materials were offloaded directly from the depressurized hold, its doors standing open, the interior illuminated by docking lights. Inside was a precisely fitted row of cargo containers. Our task was to connect each to a sled that would extract it and ferry it to an assigned construction site.

Min Tao and Bruna followed me outside.

I should have proceeded directly to the sled rack, but I was distracted by a faint, whining buzz, both familiar and mysterious. My heart rate ramped up. Was something wrong with my suit?

Within the bubble of my helmet I turned my head, trying to locate the source of the sound, and as I did the buzzing grew louder until, to my shock, a mech-skeeter flew in front of my face. It bounced off the smooth curve of my visor, then landed on my lip. In instinctive panic, I shook my head, sending the device humming away, to buzz somewhere unreachable, behind my ear.

I announced my dilemma on a general channel. “There’s a mech-skeeter in my suit!”

“I’ve got one too,” Bruna said in disgust.

But we couldn’t go back inside, because the other half of our offloading team was still in the airlock, and before the lock finished its cycle, two of them realized they shared our predicament. The gate marshal readmitted them, while Bruna and I were forced to wait, me with a mechanical insect walking up the back of my neck.

I was paying attention to that, not to Min Tao, when he announced, “I’m going to go ahead and do the inventory.”

He kicked off toward the space plane’s cargo hold, his tether extending behind him – and I looked away.

“Hey!” Bruna said. “Min Tao, why did you unhook?”

“I didn’t! My tether snapped!”

I looked up, startled by the fear in his voice. I looked around, but I couldn’t see him. So I pushed off the wall, pivoting until I glimpsed him as he vanished into an inky shadow beneath the space plane. Clumsy in the suit, he’d missed his jump, and now only the trailing end of his loose tether remained in the light.


“Bruna, make sure my tether doesn’t slip!”

I launched myself after him with all the velocity I could generate, catching the end of his tether just before it glided out of reach.


WE CYCLED BACK through the lock to a warm reception. Min Tao was mugged by our three teammates and they tried to mug me, but Dob Irish – as happy as anyone – was there too. As I got my helmet off, he pulled me away.

“Brilliant!” he whispered so only I could hear. “You handled that perfectly. Your name is already trending, and you’re regaining audience sympathy.”

I grabbed his arm with my thick glove, icy cold from being outside. “What are you talking about? You’re not saying that was a setup? Just to boost my image?”

Dob looked annoyed. “Come on. If it was real, then Min Tao–” He frowned, thinking it over, while a mech-skeeter passed above our heads.

Behind me I heard the laughing voices of my teammates. If I’d missed grabbing the loose tether, maybe Bruna could have gone after Min Tao with a sled, I don’t know. But thinking about it, I started to shake. I imagined him floating alone out there, faced with a slow death when his air ran out – and my grip on Dob’s arm tightened. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He shook his head, looking stricken. “It must have been an accident.”

Or the A-League had betrayed us, betrayed Min Tao, betrayed Cherise, to feed a tabloid narrative designed to boost our ratings and our revenue. If so, I intended to be on the space plane when it returned to Earth.

I wriggled out of the cumbersome suit.

“Hey,” Bruna said, “we still have to unload the plane.”

“Check with the gate marshal. If she lets you outside before there’s an investigation, then we all need to resign right now and go home.”


A TRANSIT POD was already in the cradle when I reached the Spoke-1 gate. I climbed in, followed by a mech-skeeter, which settled on the transparent canopy just out of my reach. I wanted to crush it, an outlet for my anger at all that had happened, but I’d have to take off my harness to do it, so I reached for the button to close the door instead.

“Hold the pod!” a man shouted. “One more coming!” And Dr. Kyre tumbled in with a grin.

His eyes widened as if he was surprised to find me there.

“Juliet! I heard what happened outside.”

He pulled himself into the seat beside me and strapped in, while the mech-skeeter decided to leave, gliding out just ahead of the closing door. It was the second time I’d seen one retreat when Kyre showed up; the first had been outside Cherise’s room.

“I’m getting worried,” Kyre said. “Real worried. What happened to Cherise was about ensuring a seven-game championship. What happened to Min Tao–” He pursed his lips, frowning at Earth’s glittering nightside floating overhead. “I think you were right. Irish set Min Tao up.”

“You talked to Irish?”

“It’s the money,” Kyre said in soft concern. “It makes people crazy. You need to keep that in mind, Juliet. You need to be careful.”

We docked and locked and the doors opened. A group of Team August players was waiting for the pod, all of them dressed for practice. Dr. Kyre smiled, greeting each by name as he got out. I slipped past him, forgotten, and grateful for it.


Face Off


I’D NEVER BEEN to our CEO’s office before; I’d never had cause. I was surprised to find it defended by a middle-aged receptionist who I knew to be Zaid Hackett’s wife.

“I need to see her,” I said.

We did the dance:

“She’s busy.”

“This is important.”

“If you make an appointment–”

“I need to see her now.”

“She’s in a phone conference.”

“Min Tao could have died.”

That got her attention. She went to the office door, slid it open a few centimeters, and peered inside. “Zaid? Juliet Alo is here.” I was allowed in.

Zaid was seated at a desk, a fierce scowl on her face as she talked onscreen with a man I recognized as the station’s chief engineer. “Of course, I agree!” she said. “Absolutely. All work outside stops until we find out what happened. Sid, I need to talk to someone. I’ll check in with you in a few minutes.”

The screen shifted to neutral as she turned to me. “Dob Irish thinks you and Min Tao might have manufactured the incident outside.”

A mech-skeeter floated past, and then another. I sat down in the guest chair without being asked. “Integrity is everything. Was that always a lie?”

Her expression, already dark, grew ominous. “Did you manufacture the incident, or not?”

“I did not.”

“But you falsely accused Cherise Caron.”

“You should visit Cherise Caron.”

Zaid studied me… and looked less certain. “I was in Paris when the scandal broke. I came up on the next flight. Haven’t been here an hour.” She frowned at her monitor, then at me. “I think you should tell me what’s been going on.”

I heard the door open behind me, and turned. Zaid’s wife was there, peering in through a narrow gap. “Now Dr. Kyre is here. He says it’s urgent.”

I shook my head at Zaid.

She looked suddenly tired. “Not now, Helma. Thank you.” As the door slid shut, she touched her monitor. “Security to my office now, please.”

I rose in alarm, but Zaid waved me back to my seat. “Kyre can be… insistent. And I want to hear what you have to say. So speak.”

“You first, ma’am. I asked a question. I need an answer.”

Her lips came together in an angry line. Zaid Hackett had the respect of the world, and yet here I was, a first-year player, calling her out. Maybe she saw the irony, because she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Our house is in disorder. We’ve come to see even millions of euros as trivial, forgetting that money represents the labor of thousands of people. Real people with real lives.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What we’re doing here matters, Juliet. It is not about the money. It’s about what the money can build.” She gestured at the ceiling. “This great monument, a hopeful experiment, and only the first stage of what will come. So to answer your question, integrity is everything. It has to be, to survive the long term, and I intend that what we build here should last for the long term. Now please, tell me what’s gone wrong.”


KYRE HAD HIS audience after me. I don’t know what was discussed.

I was called back to my shift to help deploy a mesh around the space plane – an extra layer of safety while the cargo containers were unloaded – and after that I went to practice, worried that nothing would be done.

But I was wrong.

Two days later the space plane returned, bringing with it a team of three investigators. They questioned both players and staff, rumors ran wild, but it was the mech-skeeters that provided the critical testimony: it turned out that all the data collected by the ubiquitous little devices left the station through Dr. Kyre’s account. Unknown to Cherise, her agent was paying him to make sure Team August took the championship.

The cause of Min Tao’s accident could not be decisively proven, but with Kyre gone, we all feel safe again.

Cherise and I both endured a brief hearing in which our actions were examined and, ultimately, excused. She lost her endorsement contract, but she’s confident she’ll get another, especially if Team August takes Game 7.


As much as I admire her, it’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen.

We face off tomorrow.

I intend to win.