Warp World by Kristene Perron, Joshua Simpson

praffa she was used to and the ball was no more than some kind of sticky material wound into a ball and wrapped in cloth. The men had fashioned goal hoops out of metal scraps—one on each end of the playing field, inside the warehouse. The first few plays were a bit of a wash. The hard floor did not respond like grass or sand, and the rope was not heavy enough for long passes but the men adapted and soon the shouts and tackles were as raucous as any game on Kenda soil.
    Yoth was a game of agility as well as brute strength, devised by seafarers to keep them nimble while on land. Each team had seven players on the field at any given time—one goal keeper, four passers and two ropers. It was the job of the ropers to trip up, bind, or block the opposing team by tossing lengths of rope across the court to each other, while allowing their own players to move freely. The passers not only had to avoid the other players as they moved the ball across the field, but also the ropes that appeared around them at any given time.
    Brawls were not technically part of the game but were expected nonetheless, and usually encouraged.
    Today the brawl was the game.
    Viren’s team, aside from Ama, was composed mostly of those from the gutters of T’ueve. Prow and Ama as ropers; Viren, Keer, Swinson and Rikker as passers; and the square-headed Handlo as goal keeper.
    On the other side, Cerd’s players hailed from the prison cells or docks of Alisir. The exuberant Tirnich and his new friend Slopper looked comically out of place next to ex-prisoners Kype, Luds, and Soddig, but Tirnich was by far the best player and Cerd had been quick to enlist him and his younger counterpart. Rounding out Cerd’s team was the perpetually-irascible Wyan Pruitt, who had once called Ama spawner before trying to convince her to leave Seg for dead.
    One of the older Kenda the men had taken to calling Graybeard had been voted as referee. He had been neither prisoner nor con-man back on their world, and he called Malvid home, which rendered him suitably neutral to both teams.
    The game was well underway, the score hovering at even. Most of the goals on Viren’s team had been scored by Swinson, who could toss the ball across a full court and put it through the hoop without so much as grazing the sides.
    Ama watched Cerd roll to his feet and survey the field with his good eye. The other eye was almost completely swollen shut. Viren was limping, his arm hanging at his side. His shoulder had been injured, perhaps dislocated, when he had gone down in the latest scrum, but he wasn’t coming off the field just yet.
    Ahead of the rest, Wyan took a pass from Tirnich and squared off against a mountain of Keer. Anyone could see there was no contest between the two. Despite the never ending bitterness that fueled Wyan, Keer was at least ten years younger and built like a stone wall. Ama whistled twice, then twice more to urge Prow forward since there was no way Wyan could make it downfield.
    Keer barreled downfield. Wyan feinted left, then darted forward, ducked under Keer’s swiping arm and stomped his foot hard, just in front of the ankle. Keer tumbled sideways, grunting in pain as his ankle twisted. Wyan planted a boot on Keer’s back, hopped over him, and slashed forward, hurling the ball.
    “Foul! Foul!”
    Ama heard the cries from the spectators but had given up waiting for any whistle or referee intervention. Wyan would pay for that move.
    Running along the side of the court, rope hanging loose in her left hand, she watched Tirnich toss the ball past Handlo, her team’s goalkeeper, and through the metal hoop.
    A loud whistle signaled everyone back to their places. The contingent of those cheering for Cerd’s team took a minute to settle.
    “I like him,” Viren said to Cerd, with a nod to Wyan. “Dirty bastard but smart. Wonder why he chose your side?”
    “Some prefer winning to looking clever,” Cerd said. He accepted the ball from Tirnich and tossed it back