This evening’s game moved quickly and New York failed to keep up. After Shayne went for an aggressive rebound and got caught in a tussle with the other team’s forward, the referee called jump ball. Shayne had strayed out of position. He could hear the coach screaming at him from the bench. From years on court, Radcliff learned to pitch his voice over the crowd.
The jump ball matched Shayne against the Chicago Bull’s star, Derek Mint. “Minty” was a physical player and he stood a coke-can taller. The New York rookie knew he could beat Minty on any fast move to the basket, but here in a jump ball situation, Derek Mint had the height and the muscle. The guy was a monster. Shayne saw a black eye coming.
Worse, the jump circle was near where that heckler sat. Steeling himself, the rookie forward lined-up across from the other player. The referee caught his eye, “You ready?” Shayne thought he heard someone shout and inadvertently jerked to the sound. An attractive couple caught his eye, some blond guy and his date. The cameraman put them on the jumbo-tron. The young fan seemed to wince at the attention. The ref tossed the ball high. Seconds off the mark, Shayne was late and lost the jump. He could hear Radcliff going berserk. The crowd rained down their abuse.
Shayne wanted to melt into the floorboard. The bright lights burned. “What is wrong with me? Concentrate,” he screamed to himself! In vain, he chased after Derek Mint, who had already made an easy lay-up.
Sitting courtside and watching intently, Angela Munoza didn’t miss any of it. She whispered into Hadrian’s ear, “You saw that. Shayne Wright - he just looked at you.”
Hadrian thought the same but still answered, “Fuck no.” The prince enjoyed the obscene words earth people used.
“You love that word.” She smiled sweetly.
Hadrian was becoming cross with this Angela. “The girl seems to delight in teasing me,” he growled.
Unrelenting, she pressed, “You sound like a little boy who’s learning his first curse words.” Dark eyes rolled over him.
Flustered because she was right, Hadrian tried to regain the upper hand, “Yes, very funny. Can we please watch game?” With a stern look, he impatiently gestured at the court. Angela answered with a pout that overtly mocked the prince’s current expression. Outraged, Hadrian turned in the other direction, boycotting the girl. “Earth women are not like our women.” Other than his mother or sister, Teramarian girls were demure little creatures. A modern earth woman like Angela was an enigma to him.
“Phhhhhhish” went another basket. In a flurry of quick activity, Shayne Wright had redeemed himself, scoring quick points and regaining the team’s competitive footing. The Garden was bursting at the seams. Angela celebrated with a piercing whistle that she produced, placing two fingers in her mouth. Hadrian choked on his beer with a suppressed laugh. She gave him a hearty pat on the back and a lively smile that said, “Come on now!”
New York pushed closer with gritty play, although they remained down by one point. With seconds to go, Ben grabbed a rebound off a missed Chicago shot. Shayne anticipated the move and had already galloped down court. Ben threw a long arcing pass that his teammate caught and put up. Two Chicago players gave hard fouls. Still, there was a loud swoosh. Shayne then went to the line and made both foul shots. Even if Chicago could get the ball into play, the clock was spent. Derek Mint nimbly caught the inbound pass and immediately made a long perimeter shot that bounced off the rim. The stadium went mad with noise. The young couple flew to their feet and joined in the pandemonium.
Smiling from ear to ear, Hadrian burned with satisfaction. There was nothing like live competition to right oneself. The prince appreciated how Shayne Wright and Ben Smith rose to the occasion in that last minute. True grit. Floating on the same energy, Angela turned and said, “Wow. I don’t think I can sleep after that. Should we grab a night cap?”
She saw his face wore a puzzled look. “He doesn’t understand.”
“A drink before we turn in?” She made a motion with her hand.
“Is it getting too late,” asked the prince? Hadrian wasn’t sure if he had enough of this Angela Munoza. A return to the hotel without this girl seemed like a suitable next step.
Angela shook her head. “Nah. We can have just one.”
The girl thought this boy easily embodied a number of familiar stereotypes. Someone had been keeping this Hadrian Capet on a very short leash. But even with the Richey-rich peculiarities, Angela was curious for what lay under the muscular hood. “One night wouldn’t hurt anyone.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him right along.
Jostling out of the arena, the couple competed with the thousands swarming the pavement. Finding a taxi was near impossible. “Let’s walk for a bit,” she suggested.
Directly east of the stadium, they encountered a poorly lit valley within the concrete monoliths. The street lamps were dark on this one peculiar block. Quickly, Angela skirted past a shadowy parking lot that held a hundred car-lifts. Darkness skulked around the black elevators. Three hooded strangers quietly and quickly emerged.
The tallest one said, “Yoooo Hoooo. What do we have here? Goldie Locks. And who is this little bear?”
Hadrian and Angela were of course impeccably dressed in their Madison Avenue garb. They presented a very ripe target. Assessing these men, the prince’s nape hairs jumped to attention. The young warrior in him was now on high alert. Hadrian confidently replied, “No trouble. We pass.” While Hadrian privately thought, “Just try it.” The prince’s tone sounded more like an invitation to engage in a sparring exercise.
“Get that Ortiz. No trouble.”
“Ha ha ha ha ha,” they all laughed.
“What’s that fancy cell phone Goldie Locks has in her hand,” asked another?
Hadrian was confused by the pronouns. He was the one holding the phone. Angela moved ahead trying to ignore these men. Buttery light revealed real anxiety on her face. The three thugs fell in with the couple that continued to walk with a worried celerity.
“He sounds weirrrrd, man,” said the tall one.
“His woman is a hot piece of ass. Maybe we can dip into that tonight?” Then, Ortiz cooed to Angela, “Honey, you really need someone to show you how it’s done? This boy here don’t know.” Two of the men moved ahead and blocked the sidewalk in a rehearsed manner. The third put his hand on the prince’s arm. These locals had no idea for what was coming. In a blink, Hadrian delivered an incapacitating blow to the groin. He then leveled two perfectly aimed kicks on the remaining faces. Punch. Punch. Blood started to pour from one of the noses. Hadrian calmly adjusted his jacket as the three men collapsed like bowling pins. One moaned in pain. The prince noticed a uniformed man in a distant cashier’s booth making a phone call. He said, “We leave now.”
Instinctively, they broke into a run. Between ragged breaths, Angela shouted, “Jesus Christ, Hadrian. What are you?” Her eyes were bright and wide. The clickety-clack of leather soles echoed off the sidewalk. Fearing another run-in with the law, Hadrian moved ahead and raced toward the light. The darkness receded as he reached the next avenue. There were plenty of people now. He stopped running and took deep breaths of the strange, smoky air.
Angela wasn’t far behind. “Are you ok?”
“I wanted to get away from…,” said the prince, gesturing. Hadrian still found it difficult to find the right words. The nervous eyes of a hunter surveyed the intersection.
On Sixth Avenue, the girl waived down a taxi and they were soon ensconced in the hotel’s comfy bar, sipping the hot drinks that Angela ordered. After a second round, the rich Irish Coffees quickly worked their intended magic. Hadrian knew the purpose of alcohol, but the young nobles on Teramar usually consumed that beverage in miserly proportions. The same was true of sex although the prince was no virgin. The whiskey started to warm him up. Confidence crept back.
“I bet those assholes lie in wait after every game. They must prey upon the tourists. But boy, they didn’t see you coming,” beamed a proud date. Her attitude toward him had comp
letely changed. Hadrian started to miss the old Angela.
She then moved to another subject, “You know those hoods were right about one thing - that bloody phone of yours? That’s no commercial model I’ve ever seen.”
“Angela, no questions. We relax? More hot brown waters?”
The older couple, in the next booth, hissed at them them to be quiet. Their conversation had climbed above the live torch song that drifted about the small lounge. Hadrian agreed with his neighbors and wished Angela would cease with the wheedling prattle. A consummate saleswoman, Angela tried a different, more direct tack. Like the prince, she too got what she wanted when it came to the opposite sex. Her pretty face always drew attention – welcome or not. With a bold eye, Angela then slid her hand against the prince’s ample thigh. There was no mistaking the girl’s touch. Manicured eyebrows arched in a question. Hadrian couldn’t deny what was happening. The royal libido was aroused with a slurry yearning to teach her a lesson. Following a final round, the young woman obediently trailed behind the prince in the hotel’s funereal hallway. Hadrian deftly opened the door and they entered the darkened suite. What followed was a night of new experiences. One physical pleasure rolled to another. Eventually, a great quivering moment came to both of the young people and they fell back and found sleep.
Earlier that night, Hadrian carefully hid all of the advanced technology inside the hotel’s primitive security device located by what they called a “mini-bar.” The only other tangible evidence of off-worldliness was his com. Although Jessica attempted to match the com’s appearance to the local equipment, the device still caught people’s attention. Angela persisted in her fascination with it. At one point, she actually picked up the com and he had to snatch it from her hands. “Jessica needs to develop a replacement that better blends with the current technology.” Miniature hovers could deliver this from the main ship. Using halo-technology, these small hovers might appear like a bird, a sconce, a tropical plant or even a small suitcase.
The couple slept deeply, each with a satisfied smile. Yesterday’s excitement had completely exhausted the prince. Vivid dreams carried him to the green forests of Teramar where the young men entertained each other with stories and song under a heavy canopy of stars. Occasionally, a chaperon like the weapons master would be corralled to tell a true battle tale. Prompted by last night’s experience at Madison Square Garden, the prince’s unconscious thoughts wheeled back to Teramar’s arena where they played the saber game. Hadrian and Sineas were long time competitors and this year the two had made it to the final round, now pitted against his mother’s nephews.
The competition was especially fierce that day and all four were bloodied. A glimmering body shield automatically counted the points. The shield also deflected the punch of a heavy hit. But the device covered only one side of the body, although the operator could flip the shield to the opposite when needed. Since the combatants used real blades, real injury was always a possibility. Medical crews were at the ready.
The arena was restless for an outcome. The crowd usually favored the prince but a mob could be fickle. As Sineas drove one of the cousins across a small bridge, his brother, the larger Cornelius, pushed hard on Hadrian to the point where the prince thought this was turning into more than a game. Sineas was pinned down and unable to offer assistance.
With lightening reflexes, Hadrian continued to parry a series of vicious blows. Cornelius’s quick moves edged the prince farther and farther from the other two combatants. Looking into his opponent’s eye, Hadrian swore he saw clan hatred sparkle. He knew the animosity was old and deep, but it was many years since his mother’s family was thrown out.
Rising from the whirl of light and buzzing sabers, a phosphorous smoke started to drift throughout the great space. Blinding sparks flew into Hadrian’s face as he was persistently late meeting the other’s sword. Cornelius was indeed a master and he continued to press the advantage. Using his second weapon, the Uriah clansman feigned thrusts and pulled the prince’s attention away from the main blade. “Did Cornelius lunge at my unshielded side?” Pressed against the wall, options became limited.
Opposite, Sineas drove at his aggressor and attempted to work Miandar closer to the other pair. Eager to assist, he became careless. With a cleverly placed boot, the Uriahan gave a tricky push that caused a fast tumble to the floor. As Sineas went down, Miandar broke toward his brother, screaming the family’s call to arms. Two against one with a half-shield. The audience roared like a beast.
“This is certainly getting out of hand. Where are the guards,” Hadrian panicked?
Encouraged, Cornelius unleashed a flurry of cuts and stabs to keep the prince occupied. Miandar leapt to Hadrian’s other side where he had no shield. The prince dodged two thrusts meant for his gut. The third cut deep into the calf. He knew it was a matter of seconds before...
Someone was shaking him. “Come on! You’re having a dream.”
Hadrian sat up drenched in sweat. To calm the young man, Angela gently massaged his lower back with a small hand. He felt nauseous. Such is the life of a prince of Teramar.
He always wondered if his mother was aware of the plot that day. Hadrian vividly remembered how the story ended. Once his life was truly in danger, guards rushed into the arena. The young Uriah barons were then banished to a far off desert colony. To keep the peace, the king accepted the “boys will be boys” explanation.
“You spoke in a foreign language. Nothing I’ve ever heard before.”
He brushed her away. “Just dream.”
She offered, “I bet our encounter with those hoodlums caused that nightmare.” Hadrian thought, “If you only knew.” Her hand continued to run up and down, smoothing out the stress. The warm feeling was coming back.
Angela said softly, “I have to go to work. Are you going to be ok?”
Hadrian nodded but couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. “Will you be in New York for a few days?”
He nodded again.
“You have my number, right?”
“Angela, I do.”
She seemed to linger or was that Hadrian’s impatience. Even after the door closed, her scent clung about his nose. Last night was very ambitious. He certainly was a boy no longer where a woman was concerned.
Hadrian rolled out of the bed. Nude, he sauntered to the suite’s television system, grabbing the remote control. As a morning talk show murmured in the background, he thumbed through the tourism brochures the hotel left for their guests. The prince then noticed a yawning stomach. Other than this food called a “hot dog,” some form of earth delicacy from the basketball game, Hadrian had had nothing to eat since the drop from space. He understood this concept of a “breakfast” and ordered one through room service.
Carefully monitoring her charge, Jessica saw a distinct improvement in the prince’s overall demeanor. His body language was alert. Today, he was up with the blinds open, planning a day. She needed a confident, sane prince to face the challenges of the coming months. In the end, Hadrian would have to return home and lead the clan back from the brink, although she was currently at a loss for how that might happen. Nevertheless, the great computer kept a vigilant eye on the situation at home. Due to the distance between earth and Teramar, everything she culled from the kingdom’s networks was dated news. Yet, Jessica had heard enough. She took special note of Hadrian’s uncle, Prince Titus, who commanded the king’s forces on Remus. The Capet loyalists remained solidly entrenched in the old capital. In an effort to inspire hope there, Jessica dispatched an encoded message to Titus briefly letting him know that his nephew was alive and well. “We have to be patient. The right time will come," she told herself.”
After breakfast, the prince asked Jessica if the hotel supported an area for physical training. She immediately reported they indeed had a swimming pool and a small gymnasium. Jessica had to remind the prince to put clothing on. Hadrian rode the earth elevator to the appropriate floor. He sighed with delight when he saw the prist
ine pool. The water was perfect. The hotel also sectioned off a small area for exercise and weight lifting. At first, the prince was confused for how to operate the machines. He felt the fool pressing buttons with no cause or effect. Unable to contain the finicky coil of a spoiled young man, others began to notice his noticeable antics. Jessica whispered, “Press the green button.” Miraculously, the machine came to life. “Now, number seven.” Following a breezy workout, Hadrian cooled down on a stationary bicycle. He thought it was amusing that earthlings designed these complex machines for exercise. Even with all the advanced Teramarian technology at their disposal, Hadrian and his friends preferred a forest path or the practice yard for their exercise and entertainment.
Returning to the suite, Hadrian raised Jessica on the com and asked her to arrange for another set of tickets to the following evening’s game. He loved the spectacle that was last night. He also insisted that she arrange for access to the player area. The prince hoped to meet the athletes and to experience the competition as he would on Teramar. A regular participant in the arena games back home, he was accustomed to swaggering about in the catacombs, cavorting with friends and the other clan combatants.
Like any addict who experiences withdrawal, the prince quietly missed the fawning ministrations of the Teramarian court. Yes, Hadrian enjoyed New York and the amenities the city offered a tourist, but he was frustrated by the quiet isolation. Also gone was the sensible influence of his mentor, the weapons master, Archibald Cox, who managed to tether the prince’s lofty opinion of himself. Attending the prior evening’s game, rekindled the memories of the Teramarian arena and feats of heroism the aristocrats regularly served. Trained by the finest instructors since birth, Hadrian was immensely popular with the people during the games, often to the consternation of the battle-scarred veterans. The prince missed the adrenaline soaked spotlight. That is why he was so drawn to Madison Square Garden.
Teramar: The Gathering Night Page 7
