"Glad to hear it," Junebug called over the clatter of colliding players, ducking a swipe of a stick and sliding away from a tackle with an evasive twist of her lean body.

In a physical confrontation, be it sport, fighting, or a combination of the two as Radifiri seemed to be, the most important factors were physical size and strength. Junebug like a lot of female mercs had realized early on that she was at a disadvantage in both categories against the majority of opponents she was likely to face. There wasn't a native on the field that didn't have her by at least fifty pounds and the kind of strength that harsh primitive living imbued was no joke. The trick to surviving with such a disadvantage was to learn to fight dirty and never pass up an opportunity to put the boot in. The ball arced towards her but rather than focusing on it she leapt at her opponent, swinging the bottom edge of the shield at his face like a sword blade. It clattered from his shield with a force that rattled her teeth but rather than drawing back she surged closer driving a knee into her opponents crotch. With an inarticulate grunt he doubled over and she bought her other knee up into the point of his chin sending him sprawling to the floor.

In the academy all officer candidates had been required to play team sports as part of the curriculum. The process was a tried and tested method of making the cadets think as part of a team. Junebug like most cadets destined for the armored and played Kipsi. The game was played in micro-gravity with a small but heavy ball about the size of a grapefruit. The micro-gravity didn't allow true weightlessness but combined with very very smooth pitches made it difficult to bleed of momentum. You could pick up speed by running and bleed it off by dragging your feet, but it was many times more efficient to control your momentum of collection of poles which moved randomly across the pitch. Junebug had found that crashing into members of the opposing team to be doubly effective as any player who touched the side walls of the Kipsi chamber fell into a regular gravity zone and had to run back to the entry point for his team. Unfortunately while Kipsi was excellent preparation for controlling an air-cushioned vehicle, it was of limited utility here. 

With a flick of her... staff? club? she directed the ball towards another member of what she hoped was her team, raising her shield to deflect the frenzied blow of an on rushing brute with a matted beard and teeth stained red with some sort of vegetable matter. She allowed the blow to turn her and twisted around the onrushing native, driving her elbow hard into his kidney as he stumbled past. Stars this was murderous a half dozen of the natives already showed bloodied noses or pressure cuts. It seemed to be poor form to hit a player while he was down, so she made an effort to make such blows appear accidental. The crowd was roaring as one of their team members kicked the ball at the basket, the hasty shot bouncing from the rim to the hoots and jeers of the opposition.

"Going to be kind of hard to run plays when we can't speak the language!" she called to Neil as they raced back towards their own baskets.

[@POOHEAD189]