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Skips had met, the Skips had lost by 5 points. Feeling
nervous, Tarquin distracted himself by making adjustments to his pouch harness.
    One of his
teammates, Trevor McKeown, also known as the Rampant Exterminator, strode over
to where Tarquin was standing.
    “Have you heard Tarq?,"
asked Trev.
    “Heard what?”
replied Tarquin, still making minor adjustments to his pouch harness and trying
to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
    “About the board
of enquiry stupid."
    Tarquin paused in
his adjustments. He didn’t need to hear this right now, right when his total
concentration was required for the upcoming game.
    “No. I don’t find
out until after the game, but you’ll be the first to know, apart from the
gutter press and 5 billion Snareball fans. Thanks for your concern.” Tarquin
studiously avoided looking at Trev and concentrated on removing a burr from one
of Bob’s foot pads.
    “Hey don’t mention
it. Thinking of your health and well-being at all times." With that, he
walked back to his own Kangaroo. Trev wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box,
sarcasm evading him with ease.
    Just another thing
to worry about, thought Tarquin. He was currently being investigated for match
fixing, and although hotly denying the accusations, Tarquin knew he was in deep
shit. Sadly, because it was true. All he’d done was thrown two games;
specifically missed three goals, on purpose, and now his career was on the
verge of being destroyed. And all he’d received from this was a lousy 100,000
Galactic credits. Admittedly, it was small change for a Snareball player, but
your average Joe Citizen received less that that in their yearly salary. A
stupid thing to do in hindsight, but he now had to realize that he may never
play Snareball again. Could be worse, he thought. At least they haven’t found
out about the illegal drugs he was using.
    His reverie broken
by the pre-start siren, his AI reported that he had 1 minute to saddle up.
Jumping into Bob’s pouch, he connected his pouch harness, checked his weapons
and formed a link between his and Bob’s AI.  Opening a link to his team-mates,
their collective AI coordinated team tactics, assigning starting positions and
re-defining individual objectives. One of two strikers, Tarquin was on the wing
and guided Bob to his designated zone. Surprisingly secure in his harness,
Tarquin hardly felt the great bounding motions of his Kangaroo, capable of
leaping 10 meters straight up and 40 meters horizontally.
    The starting siren
sounded. The 3’ oblong game ball hovering in the centre of the arena, released
from its holding field, dropped to the ground. The object of the game was to
snare the ball using field guns, fend opposing players off with your stun
cannon and deposit the ball in their net, situated at opposite ends of the
arena and 10 meters off the ground.
    Eleven giant
Kangaroos, the same amount of Wombat’s and 22 fully focused and mostly illegally
hyped Snareball players charged towards it, making almost enough noise to drown
out the screaming fans in Tarquin’s ears.
    The main advantage
that the Skip’s had over the TT’s was the greater maneuverability possessed by
their Kangaroo’s.  This Tarquin used to his advantage, arriving at the ball
marginally before that of an opposing player. Firing his field gun, Tarquin
snared the ball in a field, simultaneously commanding Bob to leap straight up.
Looking down, Tarquin’s targeting graphics superimposed themselves over his
vision, confirmed a target lock on the opposing player. Using his stun cannon, he
fired a three shot burst. One connected on the rump of the Wombat which
staggered slightly. Giant Wombat’s were exceptionally stun resistant. Three
hits were normally required to incapacitate them for up to 20 seconds. Bob and
the other Kangaroo’s would be in the same state after one direct hit.
    Landing, Tarquin
sent Bob on an evasive sideways maneuver, narrowly avoiding the volley of stun
shots coming from the