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Warfem

"Gravity off," Alina told the ship's computer.

For a moment, Baird had the sickening sensation they were plunging downward, as if the chamber had become a elevator in free fall. But that was just an illusion created as the artificial gravity vanished, and in a moment, his battle computer compensated.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Alina flex her legs and launch herself at the opposite wall. She hit the thick padding, bounced, and shot straight back toward him like a deliciously curved cannon shell. Baird kicked off and twisted, grabbing for her as she shot by. He managed to snag her upper arm and got towed along for his trouble, but as they tumbled toward the wall, he started wrapping himself around her. He needed to get those long arms and legs under control.

Then he'd have her.

Yet Alina had no intention of allowing herself to be had, at least not yet. She twisted as they hit the wall, grabbed a handhold, and heaved him clear before he had time to get a good grip. While he flailed, she kicked lazily away.

By the time Baird got himself stopped, she was grinning at him from the other end of the tank. "Point for me," she said, gently mocking.

Baird bared his teeth at her as his competitive instincts awakened in a hot rush. "That's the last one you get."

"I don't think so." Alina sprang.

This time he was ready when she barreled into him. Allowing her momentum to carry them toward the wall, he snagged her right wrist and slung a leg over her hip. Zee-Gee or not, he was still stronger than she was, and his arms and legs were longer. If he could get a good grip on her, he could do whatever he wanted.

And he wanted to do plenty, especially with that round little backside rubbing against his groin.

His mind might have doubts about her, but his body had none whatsoever.

Unfortunately for his frustration level, Alina had learned her way around a tank sometime in the past twenty years, and she was flexible as an eelcat. She rammed an elbow into his sternum, squirmed loose when he gasped, and kicked away. He shot after her, his cock as hard as ferocrete behind the tough fabric of his snugs.

Alina hit the wall an instant before he did and caromed off like a billiard ball. He bounced after her, kicking hard enough to give himself the speed to catch her.

The trouble was, though, all that mass and momentum were hard to stop. As he overtook her, she twisted, grabbed him by the hand he reached for her, and heaved. The physics of equal and opposite reactions sent him shooting in one direction while she shot in the other.

Laughing.

"That," he told her, "was a mistake."