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Chapter Two

Pacifica, Ganymede
Municipal Stadium
April 6, 2130
Game Four of a Four-Game Series at Pacifica Cubs

“And if you’re just joining us for this amazing game here on the Stellar Sportsfeed, we are here in the bottom of the eighth inning, where Giants’ pitcher Kimiko Inoue is six outs away from the Neo-Majors’ first one-hitter in history. This is Dennis Keller alongside Cy Young winner Chuy Wilcox with you live from Pacifica’s Muni Stadium where the Giants are on top of the Cubs with a score of six runs to zero. Chuy, you’ve been in several of these situations, what do you think is going on inside Inoue’s head right now?”

“Well, Duane, it’s anyone’s guess, but mine is that she’s focused on winning the game. I doubt if she’s even aware of the fact that she has a one-hitter going right now. The only thing that matters is putting the ball in the catcher’s mitt until the end of the inning.”

---

Kimiko stared out at the Cubs’ second baseman, Kevin Trott. She had so far faced him twice before, and managed to strike him out both times. The second time was harder than the first, and she knew that the catcher, Mariposa Quintara, was keeping score as well as Kimiko was. Focusing her attention toward Mariposa’s crotch, she saw that the catcher called for some more high heat, low and down the middle. Kimiko fought the urge to shake out her arm and show fatigue to the opposition. If low heat is what Mariposa wanted, than low heat is what she’s going to get.
She came set and lifted her knee up as she prepared to throw. Her left arm released the ball as hard as she could, and surprisingly, Trott made contact with the ball. It was a late swing, and he fouled it off down the left field line. For a brief moment, Mariposa and Kimiko shared a look as they communicated the next move silently. Trott would nail the next pitch if it was a fastball, now it was time to mix it up and get this guy out.

Quintara signaled for a sinker, inside and obvious. It was their way of shortening the pitch count without going for the K. Pitching Trott inside had the desired effect; the ball sprang from his bat and sailed up and toward the left foul line, toward Patrick Fortenberry. Patrick drifted into foul territory and made the catch. One away.

In spite of the home team five outs away from being shut out, the crowd began to cheer for the one-hitter as though the Giants hailed from Pacifica. Out of the corner of her eye, before the next Cubs hitter stepped into the box, Tessa came out of the dugout with her jacket on and trotted up to the mound. Mariposa did the same, coming up from the batter’s box and the umpire.

“It’s been quite a game to see, Kimiko,” said Tessa. She looked at Mariposa and asked, “I hate to pull her, but do you think she’s got it in her to close out the game?”

Kimiko’s brow carried a light sheen of sweat, which she wiped away with the arm of her uniform. She was in the bottom of the eighth in the fourth game of the series. They dropped the first one to the Cubs, when Casey Lagrange couldn’t hold onto a two-run lead in the sixth, giving up three hits and two runs. Tessa pulled him early and he got a no decision. The second and third games were won by starters Kelly Ewan and Jimmy Petropoulos, with some help from the magic arms from the bullpen. After three days of watching pitching and batting records of the games, with her sitting in the dugout and constructing her plans for the first three games, Kimiko started the fourth game with devastating pitching.

Mariposa looked at Kimiko, as if to appraise her on the spot. “I think she’s got five more outs left, Skipper.”

Kimiko nodded.

Tessa smiled. “Yeah, I think so, too. In either case, Kimiko, in case you get tired… I can have Q-Ball ready to close it out.” Q-Ball was their closing pitcher, Quentin Longshore.

Kimiko shook her head, feeling her pride surge up, but thought better. “I can finish it, but warm him up if you think that’s best.”

Mariposa and Tessa locked eyes for a brief moment, before the catcher turned and looked back at the umpire. The home plate ump was approaching the mound, getting ready to break up the meeting.

“Naw, that’s all right,” decided Tessa. “You close it out for us, K Monster.”

Both Mariposa and Kimiko asked at nearly the same time, “K Monster?”

“Too early in the season for a nickname?” wondered Tessa in a playful tone as she waved off the ump and went back to the dugout.

Mariposa chuckled, slapping her fist in her glove. “K Monster. I kind of like that.”

Kimiko wrinkled her nose at the prospect of being called something so ridiculous. Curiousity getting the better of her, she asked, “How many Ks do I have, anyway?”

Already waking away from the mound and fixing her mask, Mariposa turned and walked backwards as she raised her voice and answered, “I don’t know. I lost track after the twelfth one.”

Kimiko turned away from the catcher, tossing the ball into her glove twice and smiling to herself. Time to focus, she thought to herself. Carla Fabela, the Cubs’ first baseman, was next up, and she was batting over four hundred before the game started. Now it was close to three thirty-three. The players were now set and it was time to throw the ball. Splitter, low and away, was the signal from Mariposa.

---

“Swing and a miss to Fabela,” called Keller over the broadcast feed. “Carla Fabela is a veteran first baseman; she played in the old Majors as a young player with the Hawai’i Breakers as a teammate to the late Chelsea Nystrom during the final season. I understand before the first game, she and Jakey Nystrom, the Giants’ shortshop, had dinner to talk about his mother.”
Chuy Wilcox interjected, “Yes, Duane, that’s right. Obviously, these days, the older group of ballplayers have become a tighter clan, and children of that era are part of that new family. Even though they’re on opposing teams, they never forget where they come from, or what they represent. Although, this new class of major leaguers is impressive. No doubt about it.”

“Here’s the oh-one pitch to Fabela, looks like a knuckler in the dirt, and Fabela… Fabela offers a nasty hack at it!”

“Well, that was an incredibly filthy knuckleball, Duane. I think even Chelsea Nystrom would have tried to hit that one.”

“Oh and two to Fabela, now. You might be right about that, Chuy. And about these freshman ballplayers bringing their A-games to the new majors. Kimiko Inoue has proven to be worth twenty times her league minimum salary tonight,” comments Duane.

“That was part of the NPRA, Duane. If the government was going to fund major league baseball, everyone had to take a pay cut for the next five years to make sure everyone was paid equally,” replied Chuy. The NPRA was the National Pastime Restoration Act. “So far, the effect on morale has been amazing.”

“Inoue comes set, and here’s the oh-two pitch… swung on and missed! Strike three! Ooo… and Fabela does not look too happy with herself as she heads back to the dugout.”

“Inoue has perfected the art of the changeup, Duane. The effectiveness of the changeup lies in the ability to show fastball with your delivery and force the batter to swing early.”

Keller called, “And Inoue is now four outs away from a one-hitter! That last out brings up the number eight hitter, right fielder, Big Jim Sanches. Sanches is oh for two tonight, with a groundout in the third and he struck out looking in the sixth.”

“Big Jim has been hitless in his last three games,” added Chuy. “He’s batting with eighty-three cents on the year and if he doesn’t get a hit soon, there is no doubt that Cubs manager Ronnie Del Toro will send him back to Triple-A Brisbane and maybe call up Jenny Decosta, who’s been tearing up the minors the last six days.”

“Well, he’ll get another chance tonight to prove himself, Chuy. Inoue comes set and here’s the first pitch of the at-bat… Whoa! That heater went way inside and drops Sanches to the ground as he avoids the pitch!”

---

Mariposa quickly reached up to snare the ball in her glove and threw it back toward Kimiko as Sanches dusted himself off.
He cursed at Kimiko from his stance and stared angrily at the Giants pitcher.

Kimiko turned away, pretending not to notice. She did not like Mariposa playing games with the hitters like that, but the Cubs right fielder was crowding the plate, trying to force her to pitch outside.

“You tell that bitch pitcher of yours to watch where she’s throwing,” hissed Sanches.

“I would, but it’s late in the game, and I think she’s getting all light headed out there. I’ll bet she’s starting see two of you and is pitching in between. I’d be careful she doesn’t kill you with a one hundred seventy kay-em-aych fastball to the head. I don’t think your helmet’s that strong,” said Mariposa wryly.

Sanches turned to look at Mariposa incredulously. “Jesus.”

“The name’s Mariposa. Oh, and by the way, here comes your pitch.”

Sanches turned and looked Kimiko’s windup, the ball sailing toward him. He misjudged it and swung wildly, causing the umpire the duck out the way.

The umpire screamed, “Strike one! And watch it, batter!”

Sanches’ stance became very uncomfortable. He clearly did not know what to expect, now.

Mariposa smirked from underneath her mask and signaled for another fastball outside and wide. She stole a quick glance toward the dugout and saw that Tessa was trying very hard not to laugh, biting her lower lip. The next pitch went wide, as requested, and frighteningly, Sanches hacked at it futilely. She dove for the ball and missed, hearing it whack against the backstop so hard she thought she heard the wood crack. Dusting herself off, she called for time and the umpire gave it to her gladly.

“Wrangle your pitcher,” ordered the umpire.

She reached out with her glove and he gave her another ball to take to her. Walking up to Kimiko, she noticed that the pitcher was frowning. “Why are we playing games with this guy?”

“Because he’s up there with something to prove and acting like a jackass,” explained Mariposa with her mask atop her head.

“I’d like to stop messing around and just go after him.”

“Go right ahead. He already needs a change of underwear.”

“Okay, but no more of this. I don’t like it.”

Quintara, with her blood rushing in the excitement of the moment, felt her pride flare up. “You throw what I tell you to throw. Got it?”

Kimiko nodded meekly. “I throw what you tell me to throw. Got it.”

With a huff, Mariposa turned on her heels and headed back to the box. She squatted and winced as she realized she may have derailed the game by snapping at the pitcher. Shaking it off, she sent Kimiko the signal and adjusted her position to catch the ball.

The delivery was off; Mariposa saw it immediately. The knuckleball danced all over the place, making the catch impossible. Outmatched and very uncomfortable being in the batter’s box, Sanches took another obscene swing and missed while Mariposa moved to her right to try to catch it. Thinking she bobbled it, she reached up with the ball and tagged Sanches out before he realized it was dropped.

“Strike three, yer out!”

As the defense strode off the field, Mariposa tossed the ball toward the mound and caught up to Kimiko. “Way to go, Kimiko,” she offered.

Kimiko did not answer. Instead, she put on her jacket and looked ahead as Bernie stepped out onto the on-deck circle and began taking practice cuts.

“Kimiko...” said Mariposa, trying to get her attention.

“I throw what you tell me to throw,” repeated Kimiko.

Tessa turned and noticed the rise in tension with her starter and catcher, but she did not do anything about it. They would have to work it out for themselves.

---

The celebration aboard the Frozen Rope was huge. It was a big victory, taking three of four from the Cubs. Kimiko nailed her first win, a big win with a one-hitter for the books. Her line was amazing: 9.0 IP, 1 H, 0 R, 0 ER, 16 K. She threw one hundred nine pitches. She did not last through the first thirty minutes of the impromptu party and retired for the night, but not before Tessa promoted her new nickname for Kimiko. With the sixteen strikeouts, she now led the Outer League with twenty-nine. The K Monster was born.
Jake was all smiles, going three for three with with two RBIs. There was drinking and carousing, and even Bernie Himuro appeared to gravitate toward him. They sang some songs and drunkenly began to wander around the large shuttlecraft until the party lost steam as fatigue set in after a long game. Even though they both went oh for five, Les D’Agostino and Macintyre Jabert both seemed in high spirits. It wasn’t about their lack of performance tonight, it was about coming together and proving that they could beat back the tide. After being oh and three on the season, they were now three and three, and those three wins made a tremendous difference. The press called it a win streak.

The streak needed to be preserved, now, as they sped toward the Kelso Colony to face the Comets in their domed park. Kelso Colony was a colony hallowed out of an asteroid and was self-contained and sustained. It was the largest asteroid-based colony in the solar system, and sat at the mouth of the Corridor; the man-made commercial spacelane between Jupiter and Jericho (Mars) within the asteroid belt. While the colony was impressive, the Comets were the Outer League’s first-place team, boasting a record of four and two. The Giants now shared second place with the Pride, while the Cubs fell to last place thanks to the Giants.

Mariposa did not appear to celebrate as much as the others. Tessa wandered over to her when the party level died down enough to make conversation audible without shouting.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, Skip.”

“Let’s try that again,” said Tessa. “What’s up?”

Mariposa sighed and lied. “I’m just thinking about the rotation. It’s going to be Casey, Kelley, Jimmy, and then Kimiko, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. You’ll need to sit with Casey and go over the hitters with him tomorrow. I’ll schedule some time with Patty Washington for you to do that.”

“Sounds good,” said Mariposa, forcing a smile.

“That takes care of that, so what’s really up?”

Taking a deep breath, Mariposa realized that she was not going to get away without admitting it. “I said something to Kimiko on the mound today that I’m not proud of.”

“Was this while you were scaring the crap out of poor Big Jim Sanches?”

“Yeah.”

“Ronnie told me that he’s going back down to Triple-A, by the way, thanks to you two. I take it that Kimiko didn’t like you calling for those types of pitches?”

Wincing at the news, Mariposa replied, “Yeah.”

“You told her to throw what you tell her to throw?”

Mariposa blinked at Tessa. “How did you know?”

“You’re not the first catcher to put her foot in her mouth, and it was pretty obvious when you sulked in the corner during the biggest party of the year… so far.”

The catcher sighed. “I should go apologize to her. I didn’t mean it.”

“She’s sleeping off having pitched nine innings in three hours. It’ll keep until tomorrow, Captain.”

Mariposa looked up at Tessa. “Captain?”

“I decided to make you the team captain after the game. You show some real leadership in the field. In spite of your… temper.”

“Skip, I’m no captain. I didn’t act like one tonight.”

“With the exception of one moment of hubris, Mariposa, yes, you did.”

“Listen…”

“No,” interrupted Tessa. “No, you listen for a moment. You have helped wrangle this pitching staff. Patty Washington has had nothing but kind things to say about how good an eye you’ve got for pitching. She wants to deputize you for the pitching staff, but I need your leadership on the field.” She explained, “When the question of platooning you with Joe Wiggins comes up, I can’t risk him being out there and making a mistake. We’re playing five hundred ball right now, and that number needs to climb. We need you.”

“Skip…”

“I need you, M.” Tessa replied sincerely.

Mariposa smiled. She said in a jovial tone, “You’re intent on giving everyone nicknames, aren’t you?”

“It’s a term of endearment,” replied Tessa. “You ever watch hockey?”

“Sure.”

“Captains usually wear a C on their uniform. I know in baseball that kind of thing gets forgotten at the professional level, but I’m reinstating it. Tomorrow’s game at Kelso Colony, you’re wearing a big black C on your arm, so everyone on that field knows you’re my guy,” she said, moving off from Mariposa. “You’re going to do fine.”

“Okay, Skip. Thanks.”

“Oh, and apologize to the K Monster. She’s going to be pitching against Callisto on the eleventh.”

“Okay, Skip.”

“Good night, M.”

“Good night, Skip.”