Garrant

by Annabelle Rex

  People often said things like ‘won’t you be glad to eat out without a guilty conscience?’ or ‘it will be nice to have an end to the regimented training plan, don’t you think?’ in the context of his impending retirement. While thoughts of eating indulgently and not having to get up before the dawn had their appeal, thinking that way didn’t consider the bigger picture. Yes, he would gain some small pleasures, but in exchange he lost everything. Getting up for those early morning training sessions gave his day structure. He ate well because he had to in order to maximise his performance, his health, his recovery times. Everything Garrant did in his life right now was part of the giant machine of performance. It guided his every decision, impacted his every hour. When that was no longer necessary…

  It wasn’t just the overarching ‘meaning’ he lost, it was the little things that filled his minutes, his seconds. A day of lounging on the sofa with no purpose sounded divine, but how long could he keep it up before misery seeped in to every inch of his being? Garrant thought he’d last a week at a push. It was this thought that rendered his breakfast tasteless, unappetising.

  And things didn’t improve from there. Allendi had invited him to her suite for some pre-Opening Ceremony drinks with her family and friends, but that was many hours away. He could go shopping, explore the Entertainment District of the Olympia, but doing so alone felt pointless. Just another reminder of everything his life didn’t have.

  He was being maudlin and he knew it, but he was powerless to stop the tide of bad feeling coming in. When he’d been younger, back in the days when he’d first met Allendi, the two of them loitering around paradise planets together on his off season, he’d been youthfully confident that everything would work out.

  “Competing keeps me busy,” he had said to her, one evening as they watched twin suns setting over a beach. “I’ve got maybe ten years of professional competing ahead of me. By the time I’m close to retiring, I’ll have found my Match, then we can settle down together and have a family.”

  Ten years had felt like such an impossibly long time to him in his early twenties. A lifetime.

  Then his next competition season had come round, and by the time he returned to the paradise planet circuit, Allendi had gone. Taken home by her mother, one of their mutual friends told him. The first instance of the universe moving on around him while he stayed in the same place, perpetually stuck.

  When he’d bumped into Allendi, quite by chance, at one of his competitions a couple of years later, he’d been genuinely delighted for her that she’d found her Match. She’d always been beautiful, but that day she’d shone in a way she never had before. Happiness infused every cell of her being.

  They’d kept in touch after that, meeting up whenever their schedules aligned. She’d gone from restless wanderer, to happily settled partner, to doting mother. All the while Garrant remained stuck in the restless phase, and now the one thing that had sustained him through that was coming to an end.

  He rolled his shoulder, listening for any hint of pain. Nothing. The serum was doing its job. He just hoped it held up the full ten days.

  The day seemed to drag on interminably, and though Garrant had been looking forwards to having a few drinks with Allendi and her family, by the time it came around, he was no longer in the mood. Grumpy and irritable, he didn’t feel like congratulating Allendi’s brother on his newfound Match, smiling and shaking hands and raising toasts while pretending he wasn’t miserably jealous inside. He grabbed his comm and called Allendi up.

  “Hey, you don’t look like you’re dressed for a fancy shindig,” Allendi said as she answered, setting her comm down so she could use both hands to fix her jewellery in place. She was wearing an elegant dark brown dress that set off her skin tone and hair perfectly.

  “It doesn’t take me long to get ready,” Garrant said. “You don’t have to put a lot of effort in when you’re blessed with my face.”

  Allendi snorted. “You never change, do you?”

  No, he thought, as Ardan walked into the room, requesting Allendi’s help with his clothes. Garrant watched as she smoothed down the material, arranging the layers so they fell just right, before running her hands up his chest and tiptoeing to press a kiss against his mouth.

  “Sorry,” she said, sitting back down at the dresser and returning to her accessories. “Did you want something?”

  Someone like you to do those things for me, he thought, but didn’t say.

  “Actually, I’m just calling to apologise - I’m not going to make your drinks before the ceremony.”

  “Oh,” Allendi said. “Something come up?”

  Garrant gestured vaguely. “Just running behind on some things.”

  “Is everything okay, Garrant?” Allendi said, eyes narrowing.

  “Fine,” he said, with as much breezy certainty as he could give the word. “Just an intense training session today. My coach really pushed me hard. Still recovering.”

  Allendi’s eyes narrowed further, and he knew she’d seen through him. This was the problem with having a friend know you so well.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Garrant rolled his shoulder, the movement reflexive.

  “Shoulder again, huh?” she said, her demeanour softening. “You going to be okay to play?”

  “Should be,” Garrant said, then tried to fix a convincing grin. “Have to be. Can’t go crashing out of my last event, now, can I?”

  “It’s just an event, Garrant, health is more important.” Allendi said.

  Back when they were kids, she would have agreed with him. Twenty-something Allendi had been every bit as reckless and self-destructive as he had been, as he still had a tendency to be. Thirty-something Allendi had a Match and daughter to think about.

  “So, did you meet the new family members today?” Garrant asked, changing the subject. “Did Sassi behave?”

  Allendi’s eyes lit up. “You are not going to believe this,” she said. “Sassi has actually made a friend.”

  “What?” Garrant said, throwing as much shock behind the word as the revelation warranted.

  “I know!” Allendi laughed. “Cael’s Match, Asha - she has a little nephew. He’s a bit older than Sass, maybe a year? But they’ve spent all day playing together. Sassi has not shut up about it.”

  Garrant knew Sassi well enough to know that the difficulty was normally in getting her to say anything. “That’s amazing.”

  “Play dates, Garrant, we can finally have play dates. I can leave her with another parent for a couple of hours and not worry that I’ll come back to find the other children terrorised. Think what I could use that time for.”

  Garrant had a few sordid ideas, but before he could suggest any, Allendi continued.

  “I could have a bath and not have to worry about being interrupted.”

  Priorities obviously changed some once you became a parent.

  “She’s been nagging to see you again, as well,” Allendi said. “She really loves her Uncle Garrant.”

  “Well, then, we’d better find some time in our busy schedules to arrange a get together. Tell Sassi to have her people contact my people, we’ll get it done.”

  Allendi laughed. “We’ll be at your first heat. Maybe if you’re free afterward?”

  “Definitely,” he said, his smile genuine now. He’d never considered children to be his thing, but he adored Sassi. Being honorary Uncle to that little bundle of mischief was one of the good things he had going for him right now.

  “Well, I will forgive you for bailing on my drinks as long as you make it to the Opening Ceremony,” Allendi said. “I won’t allow you to sulk all evening, and you have to come and see Cael, meet Asha.”

  “What’s she like? Elegant? Well spoken? A demure little thing with a perfect curtsey?” Garrant actually liked Cael, Allendi’s brother. Despite being the Crown Prince of Allortasia, he was down to earth, good for a laugh - much like his sister. But unlike his sister, Cael tried hard to conform to the expecta
tions of his position. Garrant could picture the perfect little doll he’d have hanging off his arm.

  But Allendi just smirked. “Demure isn’t a word I’d use to describe Asha, no. I think you’ll be surprised. I think you’ll actually like her.”

  Garrant fixed her a dubious look. “In my general experience, princesses are not my kind of people. Present company excluded, of course.”

  But of course, Allendi never told him she was a princess when they first met. She’d only divulged that little detail later on, long after any attempt could be made to salvage his behaviour towards her. She’d done it on purpose - if there was one thing Allendi hated, it was being treated like a princess.

  “You’ll come?” she said. “We’re saving you a seat.”

  “I’ll be there, I promise,” Garrant said.

  He didn’t feel like going, but she was right - it wouldn’t do him any good to mope about. And he should be happy for Cael. He didn’t want to become the kind of person that couldn’t celebrate the happiness of others.

  He just wished he had something of his own. If a Match wasn’t in his destiny, then at least a direction. Somewhere to go once he closed off this chapter.

  He knew what his parents would say - pray. Pray to Parshana for guidance. All Iparshana believed that the Goddess of their world created them with a path in mind. A path that would bring them to great happiness if only they would take it. Iparshana children were taught meditation at school to help them access the ‘higher plane’ - a state whereby Iparshana could see the connectivity of the universe, the threads that tied people and places and things together. Accessing this ‘second sight’ was considered the height of accomplishment. Most Iparshana managed it by their late teens - or lied about it, Garrant sometimes thought when he was feeling less than charitable. He’d never managed it himself.

  But he could admit that he hadn’t exactly shown any dedication to the practice. Sitting still never came easily to Garrant like moving did, and he’d thrown himself fully behind the ‘moving’ part of his skill set. But perhaps as he was going to have to give that up, he ought to rekindle practising stillness.

  He sat as he’d been taught, legs crossed loosely in front of him, back straight, heart open. He slowed his breathing, counting in and out. As his breathing slowed, so did his heart rate.

  In, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, out, two, three, four.

  He tried to let his mind go blank, focusing only on those words. Just counting his breaths in and out. It was just like the moment before taking a shot at goal in Hyperdisk. You had to keep your mind blank of everything else, filter out the roar of the crowd, the importance of scoring, whether or not this shot carried the weight of victory behind it. Garrant smiled, picturing the triangular goal ahead of him, reaching his shoulder back and…

  The blinding agony of his muscle jarring, losing his focus and balance and tumbling to the floor. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t…

  His mind spun, far from blank. He tried to corral it back, but the injustice had his heart pounding again, his breath racing to keep up. With something close to a snarl, he got up.

  Pointless waste of time, anyway. There was no plan for him. He was destined to drift for the rest of his miserable life.

  He allowed himself to wallow in the anger, the frustration for a moment, before calmly reminding himself that, injuries aside, he was healthy. And despite reaching athletic retirement age, still young. The universe was his to make the most of. He just had to actually do it. So he couldn’t rely on divine assistance, he’d just have to make his own way. It was what he’d always done before, and he could do it again.

  Starting with making it to the Opening Ceremony on time so Allendi didn’t get annoyed with him. He glanced at the time. It was going to be tight. He didn’t have another moment to waste on feeling sorry for himself.

  “Pull yourself together,” he said out loud, giving himself a glare in the reflective surface of the kitchen appliances.

  With one last deep breath, Garrant headed for his bedroom to get changed into his formal clothes.

  Chapter 5

  NELL HAD BEEN THE THE THEATRE exactly once before in her life, not including school trips - and those had been few and far between. Before she went in to care, her father had rarely been sober enough to remember to sign the forms, get the money and hand it in to the school on time. Nell suspected a lot of the time his memory problems were in fact money problems, because ‘forgetting’ to sort the form out was easier for him to admit to than drinking away their money.

  One time, she’d gone straight to Mal with a permission slip. The money had been a token amount - a few pound for a museum donation. She’d thought perhaps she could steal the cash, but she was too young, too innocent to contemplate forging her father’s signature - something Asha would have no qualms about from about the age of seven. Mal had looked at her, and for a moment she’d frozen, convinced he was furious with her, but he’d just ruffled her hair and gone out to ‘have words’. Nell couldn’t remember most of what had been said, but the phrase ‘sort your shit out’ had been used liberally.

  Not long after that, her father had quit working at Mal’s. Nell had never thought of him as a bad man, just a deeply flawed one. His second biggest flaw was his inability to face his own guilt.

  So she felt a curious buzz of almost childlike excitement as she took her seat behind Allendi and Ardan in the box reserved for Cael and his guests, her dress glittering in the soft overhead lights. The space felt cozy and intimate, like the rest of the arena didn’t exist and the impending show was just for them. She could hear the chatter of other people beneath them in the regular stands, but it was just an indistinct murmur, no particular threads of conversation standing out. It became background ambience, like traffic noise, or the gentle roll of waves on the beach.

  Then a hush settled over the arena as figures began to move around on the stage area, anticipation filling the atmosphere. Overhead, the lights started to dim, first half way, a gentle encouragement for everyone to take their seats, then gradually all the way to off, until the only illumination in their box was the soft glow of Mikey’s meditation stone at her breast - fortunately not bright enough to penetrate far into the darkness. Nell leaned forwards in her seat, looking through the gap between Allendi and Ardan, waiting for the show to start. As Nell caught the glimpse of movement in one corner of the arena - people taking their seats, followed by the twang of instruments being readied - the door behind her clicked open, a slice of light from outside cutting through the black as a figure slipped in to the box and the seat next to her.

  Allendi turned round, her luminescent green eyes visible in the darkness, and gave the newcomer a glare.

  “You decided to turn up after all, then,” she said, her voice a whisper, but still cutting.

  “The allure of your fine company finally proved too strong,” a male voice responded, low and a little husky.

  Allendi scowled at him, but the corners of her lips twitched, as if she was trying to contain a smile.

  A voice boomed over the speaker system before anything else could be said.

  “Intergalactic Community members and our Human guests, please take your seats and switch off all communication devices. The Opening Ceremony is about to begin.”

  A spotlight shone on a platform rising out of the arena floor as grandiose music started to swell. A Human orchestra, Nell realised, recognising the instruments. A Human looking man stood on the platform next to a tall figure with pale lilac skin and long fingers. The music crescendoed, then began to taper off as they stepped up to a podium together.

  “Welcome,” the man said, his accent Human - something European, she thought. “It is my pleasure as chair of the International Olympic Committee to welcome you all to this, the first Intergalactic Olympic Games.”

  The other person spoke next, and Nell could hear their true voice burbling like water over a rocky riverbed beneath the translation, which spoke in a soft, feminine to
ne.

  “On behalf of the Intergalactic Community Consortium of Sporting Competition, I also extend a warm welcome to both Humans and Intergalactic Community members alike. May this be the first of many events we share together.”

  They continued their opening remarks, alternating speakers every few lines, talking about the great amount of work that had gone in to creating the experience for the guests - how months of intense preparation had been undertaken by skilled Intergalactic Community workers and their Human liaisons to outfit the Olympia with everything both the Intergalactic Community, and Humanity would need to have a good time.

  “Special thanks must go to Prince Cael, chief Ambassador to Humanity, and his Match, Asha, for their tireless work to help organise this event.”

  The spotlight swung upwards, shining into their box. Nell winced against the sudden brightness, resisting the urge to shield her eyes with a hand. She turned her head to the side, casting her eyes down until they adjusted. Her gaze landed in the lap of her new neighbour, on tight trousers clinging to muscular thighs, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow in that casually sexy way, tan skin decorated with intricate and beautiful tattoos. Nell followed the path of his body up, catching a glimpse of chiseled jaw, tousled surfer hair. For a moment, warm, honey coloured eyes met hers.

  Then the spotlight moved and they were plunged into darkness again, Nell blinking against the sudden absence of light, the echo of his shape burned into her retinas, a poor substitute for the real thing.

  The two hosts continued talking, extolling the virtues of learning from each other’s cultures, of Intergalactic unity and cooperation, of the Match test that made all this possible. Nell swallowed hard, trying to turn her mind back to the ceremony, not allowing it to linger on the gorgeous man sitting next to her.