Dihydrides

By Duane Lakings

Petunia 'Pet' Numdahl and Kyle Clawford play laser ball - a sport played at zero gravity in an enclosed court watched by rabid fans. Laser ball requires players of utmost skill to strike a little ball with a racquetball-like racket into their opponent's guarded small goal while preventing this ball from entering their own goal. Not to mention each player is also armed with a small laser pistol whose beam can turn the ball – if struck - to another color, denying a goal.

“I didn't miss,” yelled Pet over the clanging noise and the screams of the crowd. She glared at the blinking lights. “Check the ball. It’s blue, not orange.”

Before playing the championship game on a space station orbiting between the Earth and the moon, Pet, a laser ball unknown, and Kyle, famous to all laser ball followers albeit the loser of last year’s championship match, find themselves caught up in a diabolical scheme of a cartel boss, George Tsau. Tsau plots the theft of some prototype crystals, discovered by Jack Blodder - a rich, fat industrialist with a penchant for gambling (where he expects to win), the finest cuisine (that he loves to eat), and a luxurious life on his terms.

Kyle turned toward the man. He did not personally know Jack Blodder. “You and a lot of other people. Right now I'm kind of busy.”

“I'll make it worth your while.” Jack grinned. “How does a thousand credits sound for a few moments of your time?”

Kyle raised his eyebrows. “For that much money, you can have more than a few moments. What do you want me to do? Kill somebody?”

Kyle is also a gambler whose favorite game, other than laser ball, is six card stud. Unbeknown to him, Kyle has a key role in Tsau’s plan to steal the crystals. In an effort to repay his gambling debts, Kyle had unfortunately borrowed from the cartel boss. Now Tsau plans to call in his marker, forcing Kyle to use his laser ball skills as an unwilling participant in Tsau’s scheme. Pet, unaware of Kyle’s gambling debts, unintentionally gets involved and strives to assist Kyle in stopping Tsau’s plan to steal Jack’s crystals.

These crystals provide the means of stabilizing dihydrides -hydrogen atoms with two additional electrons thereby having two negative charges. Theoretically, when dihydrides are converted to anti-protons and subsequently (in a controlled reaction) combined with protons the energy produced would serve as a new fuel with sufficient power to increase a space ship’s velocity up to 0.5x the speed of light. However and in the wrong hands, these prototype crystals could produce a destructive weapon. If enough dihyrdrides were contained in the crystals, an uncontrolled reaction would result in an explosive force far greater than that from a nuclear bomb. After stealing the crystals from Jack, Tsau plans to sell them to the highest bidder, who can then use the potential of the crystals as a weapon to blackmail the governments of the Solar System.

“Can you repair it?” Jack's formerly content face, as he waited to be fed, filled with concern. “How are we going to get out of here if the engine isn’t functioning? So much for your luck.”

“Of course I can fix it,” Pet said, muttering through her hands. “But not here and not without some special tools and spare parts.”

“You mean we're going to be buried in this hole you created?” Jack almost screamed as his mind pictured his possible coffin. He stood up and started around the table. “That would be worse than being caught by Tsau. At least death would then have been quick.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Duane Lakings
• Release date: Sep 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476379753

Duane Lakings

Duane B. Lakings, Ph.D., has degrees in chemistry and bioanalytical chemistry and is presently a consultant to the pharmaceutical industry. He uses his scientific knowledge, along with his interest in sports, to write science fiction novels with realistic science and futuristic sport games. He and his wife, Sharon, are presently living in Elgin, Texas. He has four children (James, Raymond, Geoffrey, and Alicia) and four grandchildren.

Book preview

Dihydrides

By

Duane B. Lakings

Smashwords Edition

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Published By

Duane B. Lakings on Smashwords

Dihydrides

Copyright  2012 Duane B. Lakings

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Thank you for purchasing this eBook. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental. The characters and locations are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

Many thanks to Geoffrey (my son) and Barbara (his friend) who helped me edit and revise this story to correct my many errors and inconsistencies. Their thoughtful comments and suggestions helped make the story better and more readable.

This story begins and ends with a futuristic sports game called laser ball. Another book, titled Scoelains, that I plan to publish on Snashwords, describes another, completely different futuristic sports game.

I hope you enjoy reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or the book was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Dihydrides

Chapter 1

Kill the upstart! Kill the little bitch! chanted the crowd, some almost screaming to be heard over the many red-faced fans. Most stood and waved their arms frantically toward the lithe, young woman, who was bent over with her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath.

She's dead meat now, whispered Jack Blodder, a fat man dressed in a dark blue, tailored suit and light blue, silk shirt open at the collar, to his companion, whose deep red evening gown did little to hide her curvaceous body. He squeezed her bare knee, exposed just above the slit in the dress, to indicate his excitement, both for the match and what he expected later. I'll really clean up this time. Chuckling fiendishly, his large belly moved up and down in the overfilled seat. Sweat poured off his puffy face, dripping onto his expensive shirt, darkening the light color.

Kitty Fronshem, a dark haired lady of the evening, smiled, her full red lips shining in the light. The game is not over yet, Sweetie. The Killer, she muttered, referring to Joyce Killinger, the tall, lanky opponent of the sweat covered, crowd-designated upstart player, still has to score one more goal.

Send her back to Littleport, Killer, screamed the thin man next to the couple. She doesn't have the skill to be on the same court as you. Beat the crap out of the upstart!

It won't be long now, said Jack as the two players got ready for the next ball to enter the court. He wetted his thin lips and pushed his thick glasses back against his large nose as he studied the players.

Petunia Numdahl, Pet to her friends, which were few and far between at present, stared across the game room at her opponent. Her mind raced as she listened to the taunts of the crowd. What will the Killer try next? Will she attack or defend? What should I do?

The noise level increased dramatically as the red light blinked twice and then turned to green, indicating another ball was ready to enter play. Pet glanced at the clear Plexiglas walls that enclosed the game room. First to the right and then to the left. The large, mostly formally dressed crowd was clearly visible, yelling and screaming, on both sides and only a few of the shouts were supportive of her efforts to win the match. She knew the crowd was really not on the other side of the glass but was watching the game on holovision at various places around the large space station. Since laser ball was played at zero gravity, only the players were in the court area but the speakers and video of the crowd brought some reality to the action. Even the two referees, situated on opposite sides of the court, were located near the crowd. Even so, the noise produced by the loud speakers was deafening and the faces of those closest to the walls were distorted by the frenzy of the match.

You're mine now, shouted Joyce, her normally lovely face twisted into a diabolic grin. The tall, brown haired woman positioned herself, holding her racket in her left hand and spinning it slowly. Her yellow game suit fit her well-shaped body like a tight glove. Down each leg and arm, a darker yellow lightening bolt was displayed. She grinned and waved her racket at the crowd as they cheered her remark. The roar grew louder and the chant started, Killer, Killer, kill her, kill her.

You have to beat me first, Pet replied, just loud enough for her opponent to hear but only a garble to the audience. Bending her knees, her feet rested on the wall containing her goal. She was ready to push off toward center court. With the score 4 to 3 in the Killer's favor and with only 5 points needed to win the match, Pet knew she was in trouble. Her small laser pistol had only one shot left and she would have to use it wisely if she were going to make a comeback.

The bright orange ball dropped from the hole in the ceiling. With up and down having little or no meaning at zero gravity, the players referred to the ball drop opening as the ceiling and the opposite wall as the floor. Pet noticed that Joyce was not advancing toward the small orange sphere. As she pushed hard against the wall, she thought, She wants me to make the first attack and hopes for a mistake that will give her a clear shot at my goal. Let's see if she is ready for this.

The crowd roared as Pet flew across the large room, her racket in one hand and pistol in the other. She was angling toward the floor. The ball hit and ricocheted upward. When the ball was 2 meters off the floor, Pet arrived and swung her racket. The ball shot forward toward an upper corner of Joyce's goal wall. The spin Pet put on the ball caused it to rebound from the wall in a straight line back toward her goal wall. As the ball moved, so did she. Bending her legs and pushing hard against the floor, she shot almost straight up.

Joyce thought Pet had missed in her attempt to drive the ball by her and into the goal. She pushed away from the goal opening and started toward the corner where the ball would be in a second or so. With Pet no where near her goal, the Killer would have a clear shot and only her opponent's last laser shot could stop her from scoring the winning goal.

As the crowd screamed encouragement at Joyce, Pet's momentum carried her toward the ceiling. Timing was everything for this maneuver to work. If she failed, she would lose. Swinging her racket as she approached, Pet smacked the ball hard, changing its direction. As she crashed into the ceiling, the ball entered the goal before Joyce could aim, let alone fire, her laser.

The crowd moaned in disbelief. That was some play, Kitty said to the now red faced man, who was swearing loudly after having risen almost out of his chair. One more like that and your player will not be in the finals after all.

Will you shut up! Jack wiped the sweat from his forehead and ran his fingers through his thinning, wet hair. The Killer will not fall for that trick again. She damn well had better not.

Pet smiled at her opponent and floated back toward her goal wall. Didn't expect that, did you? she shouted over the crowd noise. Now the score is tied. Want to give up?

Never, rejoined Joyce. She started back to her position to wait for the next ball. You'll pay for that lucky shot. You couldn't make it again in a hundred years.

You never know, Pet said as she swung her racket in a practice swing. Today is my lucky day. She knew that Joyce would not allow her to score another easy goal.

Petunia Numdahl was not even supposed to be in the semifinals of the laser ball championship. Before the tournament, she was an unknown player on Littleport, a minor space station in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. Everyone said she was too small at 1.6 meters and too light at 50 kg to be a laser ball player, who were usually tall and muscular, which allowed their long arms to smash the laser ball much harder than Pet could. But she was an excellent shot with a laser pistol and could hit the little ball from anywhere in the game room. She had easily beaten the best players at Littleport and had advanced to the regionals. As an unknown, she had been ranked low but after defeating last year's regional runner-up in the first match, the spectators started to notice her. The odds were always against her, sometimes as much as 5 to 1, so some bettors placed small wagers on her. When she won again and then again, the bets increased and many won substantial amounts but more lost as the supposedly better players were removed from the tournament. Before the regional finals, her light blue eyes, dimpled cheeks, and short but thick, strawberry blonde hair made her a crowd favorite on the space station circling around Jupiter. However, few expected her to win; the posted odds were 7 to 1 against her. Using quick movements against her larger, slower opponent, she raced around the court, slowly but surely wearing down the stronger, more experienced man. Finally, she put the ball into his goal to the many shouts of dismay from those who had bet against her and to the fewer cheers of those who were riding on her winning streak. That victory gained her a spot in the eight-player championship. The luck of the draw pitted her against another newcomer in the first match. After advancing with a relatively easy victory, she was now facing Joyce Killinger, Killer to her many fans, who was last year's champion and a crowd favorite, in a semifinal match. The odds were 9 to 1 against Pet.

The laser ball game room was rectangular, 25 meters long and 15 meters wide and 15 meters high. Circular, 10-centimeter openings in opposite walls were the goals. The 3-centimeter ball was pushed from a small opening in the ceiling to start each point of a match. The players had to both protect their goal and hit the ball with their racket, attempting to put the small sphere by the other player and into the goal. Each player was also armed with a small, five-shot laser pistol that could be used to shoot the ball. When the tight laser beam hit the orange ball, it turned blue and the point was over. Ramming, blocking, grabbing, or tackling the other player was against the rules so the players usually kept apart to prevent having a penalty shot called against them. A penalty shot allowed the fouled player a free shot at the other goal while the guilty player was stationed just below the ball drop and was allowed to fire a single laser shot at the orange ball, trying to hit the speeding missile from a difficult angle. Pet had never had a penalty shot scored against her. Because of her skills, only a few fouls were called against her. Some players liked to attack, smashing the ball against the walls or toward the goal and making their opponents fend off the rapidly moving little ball. Others preferred to counterattack, staying near their goals to deflect shots and waiting until the other player was out of position before mounting an offensive. The best players used both approaches, depending on the game situation and their opponent. The first player to score five goals won the match. Straightforward, except all this was done at zero gravity.

Pet glanced at her laser pistol indicator as she pushed her back against her goal wall. With the score now tied and each player having only one shot left, luck would probably decide this match. She sighed, her pretty face shining and her dimples showing. Luck has been my friend for quite some time, she mused. Why should she leave me now?

The crowd screamed and the players got ready for what would most likely be match point. The next goal scored would either end Pet’s winning streak and send the Killer back to the championship game, or pit Pet against this year's tournament favorite, Kyle Clawford, who had already won his semifinal match by the score of 5 to 1.

Pet's body tensed as the light blinked red twice and then turned green. The ball started toward the floor. Joyce was already moving to intercept so Pet knew she could not reach the orange sphere first and decided to defend her goal. The Killer used her long arms to smash the ball directly at Pet, who moved her racket quickly to be in front of the little missile. The rapid extension of her left arm caused the racket to move further than Pet wanted and the ball hit the handle, forcing her wrist back and tearing the small paddle from her hand. Grimacing in pain and reaching behind herself to hopefully retrieve her paddle, Pet watched the ball move back toward Joyce, who was already positioning herself for another smash.

Eat this, Joyce said over the roar of the crowd. Grinning menacingly, she swung hard. The ball recoiled from the racket at a speed seldom seen in laser ball and headed directly toward Pet's goal.

The previous smash had moved Pet toward the ceiling and her goal was undefended, the small opening waiting like an open, hungry mouth for the entry of the orange ball. Swinging up her laser pistol, Pet squeezed the trigger for her last shot. The laser would stay on for only a millisecond so the shot had to be perfect. As the ball sped by Pet's position, the laser beam intersected its trajectory.

Everyone jumped up, most screaming in joy but a few moaning in disgust, as the ball entered Pet's goal. To them the match was over as the blue lights around the goal came on and flashed brightly and the bells started clanging, indicating a goal had been scored.

I didn't miss, yelled Pet over the clanging noise and the screams of the crowd. She glared at the blinking lights. Check the ball. It’s blue, not orange.

Nice try, Wimp. A large grin covered Joyce’s face. No one could have hit a ball going at that speed from that angle. Better luck next year. She raised her arms in triumph as the crowd continued to cheer wildly.

See, gloated Jack, his fat face filled with relief. The Killer is the best. No one can beat the Killer. Not even Clawford. Next week I’ll really clean up. The odds will be much better than they were against this unknown from Littleport. Killer may not be the favorite even though she beat the pants off him last year.

I think the ball was blue when it went through the opening, said Kitty, just loud enough for Jack to hear. They have to check, don't they?

Of course they do. Jack grinned lewdly. He pushed his large body out of the chair, ready to enjoy the rest of his planned evening. The first half had gone just as he expected and he had no doubt that the second half would not do the same. If a player requests a check, the referee will grant it. It won't matter in this case. My Killer has beaten that Littleport girl, even if she did play a great match, much better than I expected.

The crowd started to quiet, pick up their belongings, and leave the viewing areas. Most were happy that the best players would play the championship game. Joyce and Kyle each had a very loyal following and neither would be a heavy favorite. The betting would be heavy for both players. As the first man pulled open the door, the loud speaker sounded. The last score does not count. The referees have determined that the ball was blue before it entered the goal. The match is still tied, 4 to 4.

The crowd roared in disbelief. Once they realized what the statement meant, they rushed back to their seats. No one sat down and almost everyone started to shout, mostly encouragement at Joyce or taunts at Pet.

That's not possible. Joyce’s face twisted in a deep frown. She placed her hands on her hips, just below her thin waist, and breathed deeply to calm herself.

Pet smiled radiantly. You had better believe it. She pointed her little pistol at the ball opening and pretended to squeeze off a shot.

And you don't have any left. Joyce recognized her advantage. That was your fifth. Now let's see how well you do.

Pet moved to retrieve her paddle. She mumbled to herself, I'll think of something. This match isn’t over until another goal is scored. Placing her now useless laser pistol into the broad belt of her tight, tan game suit with light blue stripes running up the arms and legs, Pet grabbed her paddle. As she gripped the handle, pain shot up her arm. That shot must have bruised my wrist, she pondered. She tried a practice swing and grinned slightly. Maybe I can use that to my advantage?

Joyce watched Pet’s attempt to grip her paddle. Hurt yourself, Little One, she said in a mocking voice. Want to concede now or should I blow you away?

Concede! screamed many of the crowd who had overheard the remark. Concede!

Blow her away, Killer, shouted a larger group, including Jack.

Pet moved the paddle to her right hand and swung it as if she were hoping she could use the racket with her shooting hand. Give it your best shot. She attempted to put some pain in her voice to make her opponent overconfident. She did not have to try very hard as her left wrist continued to throb.

She's hurt. Kitty pointed toward Pet in the large three-dimensional view screen. How can she defend herself? They should stop the match.

Hardly likely, gloated Jack, his large body blocking the view of those immediately behind him. That pretender will wish she had quit after the Killer is done with her this time.

Sometimes you can be such a bastard. Kitty sat down in her seat, not wanting to watch what would surely be an easy point for Joyce. Petunia is playing her heart out and you don't even care.

Damn right I don't care what happens to her. Jack stared hard at Kitty, who had covered her face with her hands. As long as she loses. I have a lot of credits riding on the Killer.

So what if you drop a few thousand credits. Kitty frowned, her face a mask of disgust. You can afford it. You own the largest corporation in the whole Solar System. If what you hinted about your latest discovery is true, you’ll be even richer.

It's not the money, you fool. It's the principle. The Killer is my player. If she loses, so do I. And I really hate to lose. Jack had inherited a small manufacturing business from his father. Using management and marketing skills, along with many long days and nights, he had grown the business into the largest, privately owned maker of space ship and space station components. He then diversified into other areas, including mining for minerals. To aid in the growth of his empire, he established a large research and development effort, which after many years and much money, had finally discovered a process that would change space exploration. This evening was his celebration and he did not want anyone, including an unknown laser ball player from Littleport, preventing him from enjoying his hard-earned victory. He was planning to return to Earth in the next couple of days to announce his discovery and make himself one of the most powerful men ever.

The roar of the crowd forced an end to the discussion as neither could hear what the other was saying. Kitty pushed herself up from her seat, not really wanting to watch but knowing she had to. Jack had paid her a substantial number of credits to be his date for the afternoon and the evening. Both turned their attention back to the game room.

Pet continued to practice swinging her racket in her right hand, wanting Joyce to believe she was learning how to use the paddle from an uncommon aspect. Pulling her pistol from her belt to be in compliance with the rules, Pet squinted in concentration as the light blinked red once, twice and then turned green.

Joyce felt she had a major advantage. She was uninjured and still had one shot left while her opponent was injured, without a laser, and struggling to use an unfamiliar hand for her racket. As the ball moved into the game room, Joyce started forward. An attack was the best strategy and she did not plan to give her opponent any chance of winning.

The screams from the crowd coming over the loudspeakers were deafening but neither player paid any attention. Their concentration was on the little orange sphere and the point needed for victory.

Pet hung near her goal wall as she watched the Killer start her attack. She's going to try the same thing, Pet considered as she clumsily spun the racket in her right hand. She flexed her left hand, letting her pistol dangle and hoping to display that she could not use that arm. The ball continued toward the floor.

Joyce let the ball bounce and then smacked it hard toward the upper corner. She watched Pet to see if she would move toward the ball. The ball ricocheted around the corner and headed back toward Joyce, who was ready and again smashed the ball toward the wall containing Pet's goal.

Why are you playing around? Pet shouted as the ball hit the wall a few meters from her. Her blue eyes followed the ball but her body did not move.

I'm giving the crowd what they paid for, Joyce blurted. She smashed the ball again, moving it closer to Pet’s position in front of her goal.

Stop playing with her. Jack jumped up and down, his fat belly moving slightly faster than his body and jiggling like a large bowl of jelly. Score a damn goal.

Maintain your defense, Pet, rejoined Kitty, not caring what the man who had paid her for this evening thought. Don't let her win. A few others in the crowd were also shouting encouragement at Pet but not many. Their shouts were easily drowned out by the many yelling for the Killer to score and end the match.

Pet waited as the ball got closer and closer to her. She wanted to put up some effort so she moved her racket into the path of the ball and deflected it. Purposely holding her paddle at an angle, the ball changed direction and hit her goal wall a few meters from the goal. The rebound hit the ceiling and started back toward Joyce, who only had to move slightly to get into position for another hit.

Is that the best you can do, you poor little fool. Joyce used her long arms to swing her racket. With a loud twang, the ball shot forward, heading directly at Pet.

Pet held her racket directly in front of her chest. She positioned it so the ball would rebound at an angle. Using only her wrist, she moved the racket and the orange ball shot toward the upper corner of Joyce's goal wall. The force of the ball moved Pet away from her goal opening with the protective racket, still in her right hand, further away than the rest of her body.

The crowd screamed and Joyce turned to watch the ball so she could position herself for the next smash. She knew her opponent was now out of position and floating further away with each second. She believed it was time to put an end to the match.

While the Killer concentrated on the path of the ball, Pet released her laser pistol and quickly moved her racket to her left hand. Only a few in the crowd noticed the change as they watched Joyce prepare for what they expected to be the winning shot.

Joyce swung hard and the little ball was propelled forward. Turning to watch the score, the Killer's face changed from a smug smile to a frown of disbelief. She watched as Pet hit the ball with her supposedly injured left arm, sending the little orange sphere directly toward her goal. As the ball sped past, she fired her laser. The ball turned from orange to blue as it crossed the game room and into the goal.

Nice try, you little trickster, Joyce said, relief in her voice at being able to prevent the goal, the winning goal, from being scored. But it didn't work.

Pet smiled sheepishly. It worked as far as I'm concerned. We're even again. Your laser shots are all gone. Now it's just you against me.

You'll never stand a chance. Joyce wondered if Pet had still another trick up her sleeve. She had not expected her opponent to be this good and would have to be careful, very careful or she might lose the match. She wanted very much to play the championship match against Kyle, who was a very close friend and if their relationship continued to grow, possibly more. She had barely beaten him last year, scoring the winning goal when his second-to-last laser shot had missed its target and he had not been able to fire again before the orange ball entered his goal. She wanted to show him, and all laser ball fans, that her victory was not a fluke.

Did you see that? Kitty sat down, a smug expression on her face. What you’re calling an upstart is something else, isn't she?

Sweat pouring down his face and dropping onto his already completely wet shirt, Jack glared down at the smiling woman. She was lucky, that's all. Damn lucky. Won't happen again. He sat down hard into his chair, which moaned and squeaked under his large weight.

I wouldn't bet on it, Kitty said, her face filled with a devilish grin. Oh, I forgot, you already have, she chided at the fat man, who frowned deeply causing his glasses to slip down his nose.

Pet glanced at the crowd, noting that more and more of them where shouting words of encouragement to her. She smiled, her face displaying her appreciation at their words, and waved her racket.

The crowd responded with a cheer over the still many taunts.

After Joyce and Pet were again in position, the light blinked red. The crowd yelled, the noise again drowning out any attempts for a normal conversation. After a second red blink and a further increase in the crowd noise, the light turned green and the ball entered the game room.

Before Joyce could attack, Pet pushed herself away from her goal wall toward center court and the ball. With a practiced, precision swing, she hit the ball toward the upper corner. The force of the hit stopped her forward momentum, as she knew it would from many hours of practice. As the ball moved, Pet used her legs to push hard off the floor and toward the ceiling. She arrived at the ceiling at the same time as the ball. After again hitting the little sphere, she spun her body and again using her legs to push off, moved to where the ball would be next. Never hitting the ball close enough for Joyce to deflect it and start her own attack, Pet continued to volley, waiting for an opening that would allow her to force the action.

Joyce watched Pet fly around the room, hitting the orange ball first into one corner and then into another. She knew the effort would quickly tire even someone in as good as shape as Pet, whose slim body displayed her athletic ability. Slowly spinning her racket as she waited, Joyce muttered, Won't be long now. No one can keep up that much activity for long without making a mistake.

Pet's efforts moved her from the court center toward her goal wall. The orange sphere flew from one side of the court to the other as she continued her game.

The crowd screamed and yelled, wondering how long the show would go on.

She's tiring, Jack said in a loud, almost shouting, voice as he pointed a fat arm at the screen. Do your thing, Killer. She's all yours now.

What a beautiful display of ability, said Kitty, her voice barely above a whisper. She marveled at Pet’s graceful movement as she sped around the court.

Pet felt her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. She was quite close to her goal wall. Turning almost completely around, she let the ball hit her wall and then used her racket to keep the ball from moving back into the center of the court. By moving the racket slightly back when the ball hit, the fast moving sphere started to slow down. Using her legs against the floor to maintain her position and not allow the force of the ball against her racket to push her back, Pet moved her racket closer and closer to the wall with each hit, until she had stopped the ball and trapped it against the wall.

What is she doing? Joyce wondered as she studied Pet's back.

The crowd quieted at the unusual happening. No one had ever stopped the ball in a laser ball game before.

Pet lowered her racket and scooped the small sphere off the wall. Keeping the ball next to the racket's strings, she pushed herself from the wall and toward Joyce.

A blank look on her face, Joyce watched her sweat-covered, tan-suited opponent moving gracefully toward her. Pet's racket, still holding the ball, was slightly ahead of her. As Pet crossed midcourt, Joyce formulated her plan. She squeezed her racket, planning to smash the racket from Pet's hand and then fire the ball into the goal.

Pet recognized Joyce's plan. She had hoped the Killer would respond in just this manner. She watched Joyce's brown eyes for the sign.

When Pet was about a meter away, Joyce swung, figuring the speed of her opponent and her swing would meet at just the right moment.

The racket hit nothing but air. When Pet noticed the change in Joyce's eyes, she flicked her wrist and released her racket from her left hand and let go of her pistol at the same time. The orange ball and the racket stayed together and dropped toward the floor.

As Pet had known and expected, the force of the swing moved Joyce away from her goal. The direction of movement would, in the Killer's opinion, keep her body between the ball and her goal. At least, that is what should have happened. Joyce stared in disbelief as she watched Pet catch her racket with her right hand and again flick her wrist, causing the ball to travel the short distance to her goal opening.

As the blue lights came on and the bells sounded, most of the crowd moaned. Some few cheers could be heard, primarily from those who had taken the large odds in the hope that Pet's winning streak would continue.

What the hell happened? Jack collapsed his large body into the small seat. How did she do that?

You backed the wrong player, Jack. Smiling happily, Kitty placed her hand on his knee and squeezed.

Jack yanked the hand away. Don't mock me, you bitch, he screamed over the crowd roar. The Killer lost and so have I. Now what am I going to do?

If I know you, big man, you'll put money on Kyle Clawford and hope he does better against that Littleport wonder than your Killer did.

"Maybe