Empty Space

by Alan Black

  Fugget shook his head, “You may not understand freestyle as much as you think. Liberty’s freestyle wrestling is no holds barred, bare knuckle, catch as catch can. It can be rough even if you’ve had some martial arts training. It isn’t a good game to get into if you bruise or bleed easily.”

  Mimi said, “The tracker’s challenge isn’t any picnic either. We have to run three miles, shooting at moving targets along the way, swim out to a raft in the middle of the lake carrying our rifle and gear, swim back, rock climb almost straight up a cliff, shoot again at the top and then rappel down and run back here. You can’t move forward until you hit every target along the way. The fastest time wins. I haven’t ever come in better than fifth, but I’m getting better every time.”

  Fugget said, “Say, Chrissie Altamont is competing in the skyriders today. Maybe she or Booger would take you along?”

  York looked at him as if he was crazy and laughed with them, as they knew he wasn’t crazy enough to drop through atmosphere in a plastic cigar-shaped torpedo the size of a coffin. He said, “I get hammer and axe throw, but what is a caber?”

  Fugget said dismissively, “It’s just a big stick you toss about for accuracy.”

  York said, “I should be able to throw a stick around.”

  Mimi looked across the field. “There are Trahn and Donnie. Come on, Fugget. She’s your cousin and you have to go say hello.”

  York pointed back to the line. “I’ll get signed up for some of these games.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to compete. Competition sounded too much like prep school or the Yards where everyone scored a rating on everything they did from table manners to astrophysics exams. All of the Liberty civilians were signing up for something and many didn’t seem to care if they won or lost. They were even calling it play, not competition.

  When he finally reached the front of the line, Kenna was gone. She’d let someone take her place and gone off with Balderano and the dog pack. He was sorry she wasn’t there, even sorrier she’d been taken in by Balderano’s smooth style. He did have to admit, the man had upper class manners and comportment. York knew what to say, when and how to say it, but all his knowledge was classroom instruction and it never came out smoothly when he practiced in front of a mirror.

  Toby Altamont asked him what he was signing up to play. He decided to try pistol target shooting, freestyle wrestling and the caber toss. He was anxious to try his hand at shooting a real gun for the first time in his life. All of his practice, both in school and on the station, was in simulation chambers specifically designed to train navy and army officers. He was a little more than anxious to get involved in free style wrestling. He didn’t wanted to hurt anyone in particular, on the other hand, if he didn’t break someone soon he was going to explode. And the caber toss … well, throwing sticks for accuracy just sounded like fun.

  Toby handed him a tablet, getting his thumbprint on a release form, and downloaded York’s activity schedule to his dataport along with a map illustrating the activities locations. He was surprised reading through the details of the release form. A lawyer must’ve written it. It absolved the Altamonts for any damage done to anyone or anything, up to and including the sun going nova. It ended with the words ‘It’s your own damn fault if you don’t have a good time’.

  He had a few minutes before his shooting event so he wandered over to the hammer toss to watch Fugget compete. The hammer wasn’t like the hammers he was used to seeing. This hammer was a heavy metal ball attached to a four-foot metal rod. Each competitor swung the hammer around and around, finally letting go with a mighty grunt, throwing it for distance. York thought this was something he could’ve done, however, he changed his mind after seeing over half of the men twist and fall down under the weight of the hammerhead. Fugget managed to keep his feet by putting on the special heavy boots, digging the long blades deep into the soil, and twisting at the waist.

  His dataport beeped indicating it was time to wander back to his shooting competition. It didn’t take long to realize that the design of the navy’s shooting simulations were so amazingly accurate the competition felt like another day in the sim chamber. He was good. He knew he was good, but couldn’t do anything other than shake hands congratulating the people who took first through sixth places.

  He wandered over to the caber toss and had to laugh. The Fuggets told him a caber throw was a stick toss. They didn’t tell him the sticks were twenty feet long and weighed around 175 pounds. He was sure he could handle 175 pounds with ease, then again, the scoring was based on accuracy. A caber was a long enough stick to make an accurate throw difficult.

  A woman was sizing men and women into competing groups. The shooting competition had been coed, but apparently, they segregated the caber toss by sex and size. She’d already sent Fugget to Group A and she turned to punch York in the middle of his chest with a closed fist. She laughed at his confusion. “Not to worry, friend. Different groups get different sized cabers. We don’t pit a little woman against a big man and we don’t make a small man throw a caber weighing twice what he does. You’re tall enough, but not as big as Group A.”

  He looked over at the men grouped in an area marked with an A. They were tall men and massive. Most were more massive around their middles than anywhere else and they all had large shoulders with huge thighs. They were all standing at ease joking with each other as if they knew everyone and had competed together at the caber toss before. York was as strong as any man there. However, he would readily admit he’d never even seen a caber and didn’t belong in the top group. He was little more than a willing rookie.

  One of the men in Group A shouted. “Deliah, don’t you dare put that man in another group. If he ain’t A Group material then my granny’s titties ain’t saggy. Come on, look at them guns.”

  York recognized the man as Senior Chief Petty Officer Jaden from the 44th. He was one of the small group of high ranking enlisted who’d stayed with him at the Wright’s Right B&B on Em.T-Sp8s. York put his hand on the small pistol at this waist, in recognition of Jaden’s reference to guns. Most of Liberty’s citizens were carrying weapons of some kind. It baffled him why the size of his pistol had anything to do with throwing the caber.

  Everyone around them laughed. Jaden shouted, “Not that puny thing. These guns.” The man flexed his arms, showing massive muscles with bulking biceps and twisted ropelike triceps. The display prompted each man in Group A to adopt a pose showing off muscles, more than one highlighting muscles contrasting against a fat gut. Fugget and Jaden were in the minority of men without extra weight around their middle.

  Deliah grabbed York’s arms and whistled. “Them trim hips and flat waist fooled me.” She slithered in very close to him, causing laughter and cat calls from the gathering crowd. “Ooooh,” she cooed loudly. “Fool me once, shame on me.” She reached around, put both hands on his buttocks and squeezed. “Fool me twice, shame on … dammit, forgot what I was saying.” She squeezed him again, prompting more laughter from the crowd. She peeked around him at the audience and grinned. “Shame on you all for staring. I’m just a poor country woman trying to do a—” She wrapped a leg around him and squeezed. “I forgot what I was trying to do.”

  Jaden shouted back, “It ain’t what, Deliah. It’s who you are trying to do.”

  York smiled. He knew he didn’t have much of a sense of humor, then again he could tell this woman wasn’t really making fun of him, but playing to the laughing crowd. He bent down slightly, wrapped an arm around her bottom and lifted her up until they were face to face. Deliah wrapped her other leg around his waist and squeezed.

  She pretended to swoon, fanning her face with her fingers. “I do swear, I’m suffering from the vapors.”

  Jaden shouted back with a laugh. “Them ain’t vapers, Deliah! But you are suffering from something.”

  Deliah leaned in, gave York a quick kiss on the cheek and said in a quiet whisper, “Thanks for being such a good sport, friend.”

  York recognized a dismissal
when he heard it. He set her on the ground and laughed as she pretended her knees wouldn’t hold her up.

  Deliah pronounced to the crowd, “I don’t know if this man can throw a caber or not, but he is Group A material if I ever saw it.”

  Jaden shouted again, “You ought to know, Deliah! Are you first prize to the winner this year?”

  Deliah laughed, “I’ve seen you throw a caber and you’re going to have to do a lot better than your usual to find out what I offer the winner.”

  York was welcomed into the Group A circle with claps on the back, knuckle bumps and honest smiles. Fugget and Jaden’s easy acceptance helped grease the social wheels. Jaden shook his hand. “Ensign Sixteen, it’s good to see you again. By the way, I’m Deliah’s husband. Thanks for playing along with her. Just look at her, she’s having a good time, but she really is good about judging groups for the toss.”

  He looked over at Deliah who was still putting on a show for the crowd. Laughing, she jiggled a woman’s breast, slapped her on the fanny and sent her off to join a group. He still wasn’t sure he was in the right group, however since he was put here he would certainly do his best.

  Jaden said, “You may have the strength, but you need quite a bit of flexibility here. Lift with your legs and buttocks only. Use your arms just for guiding the caber. Keep your back straight and you’ll do okay.”

  “Thanks, Jaden.”

  “Do you have any gloves?”

  “Not with me. No. I just have a little shooting glove.”

  Jaden looked at York’s hands, glanced around, and said, “Hey, Toad. You have a second pair of gloves?”

  Toad nodded, “Always do.” He reached into a bag at his feet and tossed a set to York.

  Jaden said, “The cabers can get a bit rough so keep those on. Put your gun in your knapsack and just leave it anywhere. Nobody’ll bother it.”

  Someone shouted at Steward to get the game going. York thought the name was for some man, but it turned out to be the man’s position, like an umpire or something. After watching a few men throw the caber he knew the event wasn’t going to be as easy as it looked. Most men couldn’t even get it to turn in the air, flipping end-over-end, much less guide it into the straight away twelve o’clock position.

  Jaden’s turn came and York volunteered to help the man balance the caber in the ready position. Jaden picked out a caber from the half a dozen lying on the ground. York couldn’t tell the difference in them, but there was something different Jaden saw. Once chosen, York picked up the caber and hefted it upright. He knew most of the other men just picked up one end and walked it upright, still there didn’t seem to be a rule and his way seemed easier. It drew a gasp from the crowd.

  “Holy turd in a teacup,” Jaden said as York held the caber out for him. “What did you eat for breakfast? Never mind, gimme.”

  York let Jaden slide his hands under the tapered end of the long pole and balance it against his shoulder. He didn’t let go until Jaden gave him a quick nod. He stepped back and watched Jaden flip the pole end-over-end into a perfect twelve o’clock position. The steward signaled the score and announced it to the watching crowd.

  He felt bad watching the others. The caber didn’t feel nearly as heavy for him as it did to the other men since he had been working out in heavy gravity for months. Still, he grabbed a caber and with Jaden’s help positioned his hands under it. He tried to flip it just as Jaden had done, but it hit the ground with a bounce and finished in a ten o’clock position. His throw wasn’t great, yet Group A welcomed him back as if he’d done something extraordinary. The congratulations weren’t like he was a budger doing something no one thought him capable of. For the first time, he was just one of the guys, doing what guys do and being applauded for doing it well.

  While he waited for his second turn, he craned his neck to see if he could spot Kenna. She was an adult and didn’t need his protection. On the other hand, he knew Balderano, Samdon and the rest of the dog pack. York didn’t trust them any farther than he could throw a caber. He didn’t see any of Balderano’s congregation or the young woman, although there were Gambion spacers scattered liberally throughout the crowd.

  His next throw was a little better than the first, yet not close enough to finish in the top three throwers in Group A. Jaden took first place and Fugget managed to squeak out a close second, while York fell firmly somewhere in the middle of the pack. He was pleased with his performance. The caber toss was a new competition to him, yet he managed to best a half a dozen men, all experienced tossers. He congratulated everyone who beat him and accepted the congratulations of every man he beat. The congratulations weren’t like the forced efforts he’d been subjected to at the Yards where each congratulation was required as a part of ‘good sportsmanship’. Every congratulation there was tainted by overtones of jealously or gloating depending on who beat whom. Here they felt genuine, even from last year’s caber toss world champion who managed to end up behind York on the scoreboard.

  Fugget clapped York on the shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do the freestyle wrestling? It’ll be a while before it starts. You can back out any time before then and no one will think any less of you. It can get rough in the ring.”

  York said, “Mimi’s wrestling. I imagine I can compete if she can.”

  Fugget smiled, “She’s tougher than she looks. I’d still rather she find something else to do with her excess energy. Even putting people in different weight classes doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable with her wrestling. Last time she came out with a broken nose, but she’s stubborn enough to keep at it. So, you just keep in mind it can be a rough round of fights and you best be ready for it.”

  York was about to ask what he meant by a round of fights, but Fugget wasn’t done talking.

  “Mimi should be worn out from her tracker’s challenge, but not enough to get her to back out of wrestling. Let’s go check on how she’s doing in the challenge and grab a plate of haggis or a burger.”

  They checked the tracker’s challenger leader board and saw Mimi was currently in fourth place and quickly moving up on third. Fugget smiled with pride and led York to a small food booth. He bought a burger for himself and ordered York a plate of haggis, explaining how haggis was the traditional dish for the first time a person attended any of Liberty’s games. A dozen men and women joined them at a long table. Most were Fugget’s long time friends with Jaden and Deliah among them.

  York chewed the haggis thoughtfully. The meat product was a little blander than he liked, yet more flavorful than any meal he ate growing up at the orphanage. He scanned it with his dataport, discovering it fit quite well into Aphrodite’s special diet for him. Haggis was mostly protein and fat with a few carbohydrates for flavor. The thick slices of sausage-like meat were even better than his usual bowl of fortified oatmeal and granola. He went back for seconds and, to the laughter of the table, thirds.

  When he finished the third plateful, Fugget laughed. “York, do you know what’s in haggis?”

  York shrugged. “It might be better with a few chilis for flavor, but from what my dataport said it’s mostly sheep guts.”

  Fugget looked deflated. York had spoiled his punch line. “Most folks get all gaggy when they find out haggis is sheep heart, lungs and liver with some extra fat all boiled in a sheep’s stomach.”

  York said, “As long as they leave the penis and testicles out, I’m good with it.” His deadpan delivery brought laughs from around the table.

  Jaden yelled something unintelligible about the race results. Everyone turned to look at the scores. Mimi had finished in third. Fugget shouted with joy.

  Deliah shook her head. “That wife of yours is something else. She’s approaching forty years old faster than I am, but she’s as tough as when she was in college.”

  Fugget laughed, “Don’t tell her she’s almost forty. She still thinks she’s twenty-five.”

  Mimi come up on the table unseen by Fugget. “Who still thinks she’s twenty-five?” Fu
gget sputtered in his beer until Mimi took it and drank it for him. “You best be talking about your mother.” She looked excited, but tired. Her hair was wet and York couldn’t tell if the dampness was from the sweat of a long run or swimming in the lake. Wet or not, her weapons were clean and dry.

  York wondered if Mimi really was delusional. He often fantasized about being someone other than himself. Nevertheless, he knew how old he was, where he came from and what he could and couldn’t do. This woman was quite a few years older than he was, yet she was competing in games that should have been limited to youngsters his age.

  Mimi said, “I’m so pumped up from taking third place that I should ready for a little freestyle wrestling. However, since you’re all being honest about it, I might as well admit that I’m getting too old for this shit.” She raised Fugget’s beer glass in Deliah’s direction. “I’m withdrawing from wrestling. I just saw Dii Bylo is here. She’s a monster, plus she’s twenty years younger than I am and I know I can’t beat her, so no sense in getting this magnificent body all bruised and broken for nothing.”

  EIGHTEEN

  York stepped into the circle and looked across the ring at his opponent. The man was young, younger than York, but obviously old enough to compete or he wouldn’t have been allowed to sign up. He looked strong enough with more muscle development than simple hard farm labor would produce, muscles with the slick pumped look of steroid injections. He was as tall as York, looked fast on his feet and had a little longer reach than York. He was well over the two hundred pound minimum weight limit for this heavyweight category. He also looked more than a little drunk.

  His opponent ignored the announcer and the referee, dancing around and jabbing a finger at York. His words were slurred, “Youse going down. An’ youse ain’t gettin’ up. I hope you brought enough friends to drag you out of here. Sure hope youse health insurance is paid up.” He was obviously more interested in approval from his friends than how his words were supposed to scare York.