The Rookie

by Scott Sigler

  The crowd roared so loud Quentin wondered if the anti-radiation dome might collapse on their heads. Morningstar knocked in the extra point.

  Krakens 21, Warpigs 21.

  Quentin shook his head in amazement. Toyonaka was an all-pro, and Pine had gone right after her, victimizing her in just three plays.

  Jealousy burned in his chest as Pine put the Krakens on the board two of the next three possessions, one a 21-yard field goal by Morningstar, and the other a lucky break when Keluang fell while trying to tackle Denver. The stumble turned a short out pattern into a 67-yard TD: you only got one chance to tackle Denver.

  The Warpigs came back, but the Krakens’ defense showed new energy in the second half. Two fumbles killed critical Warpig drives. The momentum steadily dripped over to the Krakens’ side of the field. Fayed broke a long 52-yard run, his longest of the season, to put the final nail in the coffin.

  The clock ticked down to 0:00.

  Krakens 38, Warpigs 28.

  The team ran off the field and into the locker room, the feeling of elation running rampant through their hearts and minds — they were now in sole possession of first place, one game away from the Tier Two Tournament and a possible Tier One berth.

  WEEK EIGHT LEAGUE ROUNDUP (Courtesy of Galaxy Sports network):

  The impossible comeback now looks probable, but which quarterback will lead the Ionath Krakens (6-2) into their final game against the Quyth Survivors (3-5)? The Krakens’ musical-chairs quarterbacking continued this week in a 38-28 win over the Glory Warpigs (6-2). Rookie QB Quentin Barnes started the game, but couldn’t handle the pressure of the Warpigs’ top-rated defensive secondary. Veteran Donald Pine led the Krakens to the win. After a 1-2 start, the Krakens have won five straight, and now need to beat the Survivors to win the Quyth Irradiated Conference title.

  Orbiting Death (5-3) pounded the Bigg Diggers (3-5) 31-17, the Grontak Hydras (4-4) topped the Sky Demolition (1-7) 21-12, the Sheb Stalkers (5-2) defeated the Quyth Survivors (3-5) by a score of 17-10, and the Whitok Pioneers (5-3) trounced the Woo Wallcrawlers (2-6) 52-3.

  DEATHS:

  No deaths to report this week.

  WEEK #8 PLAYERS OF THE WEEK:

  Offense: Mayville, receiver, Glory Warpigs. 12 catches for 191 yards, 3 TDs.

  Defense: Sven Draupnir, outside linebacker, Quyth Survivors. 12 tackles, 2 sacks.

  GAME NINE: Ionath Krakens (6-2) at Quyth Survivors (3-5)

  QUYTH IRRADIATED CONFERENCE STANDINGS

  THEY MIGHT AS WELL have been preparing for a gladiatorial fight to the death, or perhaps a pitched battle to save their own families. That’s how intense it felt as the Krakens practiced for the final regular-season game against the Quyth Survivors. There had been smiles and jokes and hard work and intensity as the Krakens crawled from 1-2 and fought their way to first place. The smiles and jokes were gone.

  The Krakens had fought too long and too hard to grab sole possession of first place. They weren’t about to take a team lightly simply because of a 3-5 record.

  Hokor gave the starting job to Pine. Quentin was mad as could be, jealous, enraged and dejected, but after his performance against the Warpigs he couldn’t blame Hokor. The difference this time, however, was that Quentin and Pine evenly split all practice reps.

  After the second practice, with two more to go before game time, Quentin was glad he was not a Quyth Survivor. Later that night they’d take the shuttle up to the Touchback and depart for the planet Quyth, seat of the Quyth Concordia and home of the Survivors.

  As he peeled off his armor after practice, Messal waddled over to him. The Quyth Worker stood there, waiting to be addressed.

  “What is it?” Quentin asked. He hated how the Workers were so subservient they wouldn’t speak unless spoken to.

  “Gredok wishes to see you,” Messal said.

  Quentin’s blood ran ice-cold. Gredok hadn’t talked to him since that first shuttle trip from the Combine to the Touchback. “What does he want?”

  “As I said, Gredok wishes to see you.”

  Quentin nodded. “Tell him I’ll be right up as soon as I finish dressing.”

  “He is not here,” Messal said. “He is in town. I am to take you to him immediately.”

  Quentin took a deep breath. In town. Had he found out about the team-wide smuggling effort? Or, far worse, found out about Pine?

  “Come on, Messal, give me a hint. What’s this about?”

  “It is not my place to say,” Messal said with a little bow.

  “Okay, let me shower up first.”

  “If I may be so bold, I suggest you skip the shower and come with me immediately. Gredok seemed ... agitated.”

  “Agitated,” Quentin echoed. That couldn’t be good. He’d never seen Gredok upset, let alone agitated. He quickly finished removing his armor, then threw on pants and a Krakens sweatshirt.

  • • •

  THE HOVERCAB STOPPED in front of the Bootleg Arms.

  “Uh-oh,” Quentin said.

  Virak the Mean was waiting by the front door. He walked forward as soon as the cab stopped. Virak’s eye showed a thin coloring of translucent pink.

  “Gredok is inside,” Virak said. “Come with me.”

  Quentin thought of running for it, but where would he go? He was in an alien city. He knew only his teammates and a handful of diehard Purist Nation citizens. He could easily outrun Virak. But where after that? This was Gredok’s city. Virak was also apparently in trouble — pink was the color of fear.

  “Okay,” Quentin said. “Let’s go.”

  They walked inside. Quentin couldn’t help but think of the parallels to the last time he’d been here. Messal led the way this time instead of Tikad the Groveling. Virak was with Quentin once again, but this time they were side-by-side.

  The bar was empty. Somehow Quentin knew it would be. They walked past the dance floor and into the back room.

  Gredok sat comfortably in Mopuk’s chair. Two Quyth Warriors Quentin didn’t recognize stood on either side of him, each holding a gun.

  “Hello, Quentin,” Gredok said. “I think you remember Mopuk.” Gredok gestured to the table. The strange, insect-like creatures filled one half of the table, separated from the other end by a glowing force field. The bugs kept running at the force field, and were constantly thrown backwards by some small shock. After every blast, they ran forward again, only to be shocked again. Inside the other end lay Mopuk, bound tight. His eye glowed the bright, neon pink of pure terror.

  “Of course I remember him,” Quentin said.

  “I’m not happy with you, Quentin,” Gredok said. “You or your teammates.”

  Quentin just looked at Gredok. He wasn’t about to volunteer any information.

  “You used my team to smuggle a large shipment of goods,” Gredok said. “I don’t want that to happen again.”

  Quentin nodded.

  “I’ve learned that Donald Pine was throwing games. My games.”

  “I doubt it,” Quentin said. “He’s a great quarterback.”

  “Don’t lie to me. Your body heat and pulse tell me when you’re lying.”

  Gredok’s fur raised slightly. Quentin had seen Hokor angry, all puffed up like a fur ball, but Gredok’s fur had always lain flat and smooth.

  “The problem has been solved,” Quentin said calmly. “We took care of it as a team.”

  “You solved nothing.” Gredok pointed to Mopuk. “This, this yakochat caused my team to lose.”

  “I’m sorry, Shamakath!” Mopuk screamed. “Please, give me a chance to make it up to you!”

  “Be quiet.”

  “But Shamakath, I swear, it was a mistake — ”

  Gredok’s pedipalp reached for a small button built into the tabletop, Mopuk instantly fell silent.

  “This weak one has already told me everything,” Gredok said. “So do not lie to me again, Quentin. Was Pine throwing games?”

  Quentin thought for a moment, then nodded.

  “Was this on
e responsible for that?” Gredok asked, his other pedipalp tapping on the glass, right next to the button.

  Quentin nodded again.

  Gredok pressed the button.

  The force field dissipated. The ever-attacking bug-like creatures swarmed over Mopuk, covering his legs and stomach in the blink of an eye. He started to scream as the living carpet swept up his chest and onto his face — but the scream choked as dozens crawled into his mouth. His jaws clamped shut, sending quirts of yellow bug blood against the inner glass. His mouth stayed shut only a second — he opened it to scream again, and more poured into the opening. He jerked and thrashed against his bindings, his body lurching against the strong glass, smashing more of the creatures against the smooth surface, streaking it with blobs of dripping yellow and bits of crushed body parts. The table shook with his jerking pain, but did not break.

  He’s shrinking, Quentin thought for a second, then realized the bugs were draining Mopuk of fluid, like a swarm of demonic mosquitoes.

  His kicks and lurches slowed.

  He had one more panicked burst of twitches, then he slowed again.

  And finally stopped.

  The bugs kept swarming over him, a shimmering bodysuit of living death.

  “That is what happens to those who betray me,” Gredok said. He looked quite satisfied with himself. “If you keep information from me again, I will be angry. But for now, I am pleased with your resourcefulness. I think you handled the situation much as I would have. You will be the starter this week against the Survivors. I am not happy with my bodyguard, who abandoned his main duties in favor of his place on the team. Virak will perform ghiris as an example to others in my organization.”

  “Ghiris?”

  The pinkness deepened in Virak’s eye.

  “It is a ritualistic suicide,” he said. “I will kill myself while the others watch to prove my loyalty to my Shamakath.”

  “Kill yourself? Are you nuts? Come on Gredok, he didn’t know you’d be this mad, he was just trying to help the team!”

  Gredok said nothing.

  “I knew exactly what would happen if we were discovered,” Virak said quietly. “I knew the consequences, and I am prepared to pay the price.”

  Quentin stared, first at Virak, then at Gredok, then back. Virak had known helping Pine might bring about his own death, yet he helped anyway.

  The temper starting to burn at the back of his brain, Quentin turned to Gredok. “And what about Pine?”

  “Pine will suffer a fate similar to Mopuk.”

  “No,” Quentin said.

  Gredok looked at him. “Are you refusing my orders?”

  “Yes,” Quentin said. “I am a football player. Donald Pine is a football player. Virak is a football player.”

  “Those two betrayed me.”

  “I don’t give a crap what they did. They are my teammates.”

  “Did you not hear me?” Gredok said. “I said you’re the starter. These two don’t concern you.”

  “Virak stays on the team,” Quentin said. “Pine stays on the team. No one dies.”

  Gredok leaned forward. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your Shamakath, you insolent Human.”

  “You are the team owner,” Quentin said. “You are not my Shamakath.”

  Gredok’s fur ruffled out to full length. He looked like a little black puffball.

  “Don’t bother getting all pissy,” Quentin said. “You do anything to Pine, or Virak dies, and I walk. Do you understand what that means?”

  “You walk? You quit? Do you think I can’t get another quarterback?”

  “Not like me you can’t, baby,” Quentin said, slowly shaking his head from side-to-side. “There isn’t anyone like me and you know it. Never was. Never will be. And I walk now, Greedy, right this second. That means your starter against the Quyth Survivors is Yitzhak. You think Yitzhak can win that game?”

  “Yes he can,” Gredok said. “The Survivors are 3-5, we can beat them without you.”

  Quentin nodded. “Maybe. But can he win in the playoffs? Can he beat the Texas Earthlings? Can he beat the undefeated Chillich Spider-Bears?”

  Gredok’s eye turned a deep, iridescent black.

  “You remember the playoffs,” Quentin said. “That thing we need to win to reach Tier One? Don’t you want to win Tier One?”

  Gredok’s pedipalps trembled. “You smelly Human. You don’t even really understand who you’re talking to.”

  “Sure I do,” Quentin said. “I’m talking to the team owner. I’m not in your mob, Gredok. I’m a football player. I’m not disrespecting you in any way, I promise you that. I’m telling you the way it’s going to be with my team, or I catch the first liner back to Purist Nation space.”

  “And what if I put you inside this table right now?”

  Quentin shrugged. “I would die a miserable death, but you know what? You still lose. You don’t reach Tier One. It’s that simple. So here’s the deal. Pine plays. Virak plays. In fact, Virak is so good, why don’t you get some of the other monkey-boys to do your muscle work? He needs to concentrate on the Survivors, and on the tournament. It’s your call, Greedy. What’s it going to be?”

  Gredok’s eye swirled black-hole black, then slowly faded to clear. He stared for another full minute, then finally spoke.

  “Hakat, Jokot,” he said to the guards on either side. “See these football players out. But know this, Quentin — your deal lasts only as long as you keep winning. If you don’t make Tier One, you and I will settle up.”

  Quentin winked. “We’re going to the top, boss. You can bank on it.”

  If only he felt as confident as he sounded.

  • • •

  ALONE, GREDOK SAT in the Bootlegger Arms for several minutes. He contemplated the scenario, unlike any he’d been through in a long, long time. Gredok had controlled countless sentients over the years, everything from Ki to Sklorno to Leekee, even a Dolphin or two. And hundreds of Quyth Leaders, the most intelligent, controlling beings in the known universe. And, of course, Humans. Many Humans.

  Humans were often the easiest to control, because they were so poorly trained at hiding their emotions. Quyth Leaders had the obvious “tell,” their ever-shifting eye color. But Quyth Leaders aspiring for power quickly learned how to repress those color changes, or even consciously manipulate them. Those who didn’t, well, they didn’t last long. Human “tells,” however, were much more difficult to control — body heat, heart rate, pupil dilation, alpha waves, respiration. A trained Quyth Leader could read all of these tells.

  Knowing your opponent’s true intentions, that was the game. Knowing what was important to them, knowing what they could and couldn’t live without. Knowing when they were lying.

  Quentin Barnes had not been lying.

  The young Human had been willing to walk away from the Krakens, from the GFL. To protect a Quyth Warrior he barely knew. To protect a man that had thrown games, a man that had betrayed the team, the entire sport. And nothing was more important to Quentin than the sport of football. That fact was obvious in every tell. With Pine out of the way, Quentin became the permanent starting quarterback, the thing he claimed he’d wanted all his life. But he’d put all that on the line until he got his way. What could compel a Human to do something that was so contrary to his own best interests?

  The answer seemed obvious — loyalty. Quentin Barnes was loyal to a fault, loyal to the point he’d throw his own future away to protect a friend. In Gredok’s world, loyalty often went to the highest bidder, or at least to the Shamakath that provided the most opportunities for advancement and wealth and power.

  Gredok looked at the shriveled shape of Mopuk, drained of fluid. His fur lay in ugly clumps at the bottom of the glass table. Fat shushuliks, newly bloated with Mopuk’s blood, moved lazily through the piles of fur. Mopuk had claimed to be loyal. That brand of loyalty, the brand with which Gredok was most familiar, lasted only until the next potential payday. Quentin’s loyalty, well, tha
t was another story.

  That kind of loyalty Gredok could put to good use. If the Krakens could win two more games, if they could reach the elite ranks of Tier One, Gredok would find a way to use that loyalty indeed.

  • • •

  THE TOUCHBACK SHUDDERED out of punch-space. Quentin let out his long-held breath in a slow, steady exhale. He’d made it yet again. The anxiety was the same, but this time he wasn’t hiding in his room. He stood on the viewing deck, next to Virak the Mean.

  “Flying scares you?” Virak asked calmly.

  “It’s not the flight,” Quentin said. “It’s the punch-out.”

  He looked at the view screens, amazed at the sight of the Quyth homeworld. They’d arrived on the nighttime side, yet there wasn’t one dark patch to be seen. Every last square mile seemed covered with the soft glow of civilization.

  “High One,” Quentin said. “Is the whole thing covered?”

  “There is no more open land,” Virak said. “Nor much open water.”

  “Seventy-two billion,” Quentin said in amazement. The population of Quyth seemed so staggering he had to say it out loud to appreciate it.

  “Now you understand why we expand. We either find new worlds or stop breeding, and that is not an option.”

  They said nothing more, simply stared at the overpopulated planet. The Purist Nation planets were relatively unpopulated. Earth, however, was at 18 billion and counting. He wondered how long it would be until the Earth, like the Quyth homeworld, was just one big city without boundaries or borders.

  • • •

  PINE DRESSED for the game, but had about as much a chance of seeing field time as the Purist Nation had of winning the Intergalactic Sentient Peace Award for good deeds done to other species. The team still didn’t know, save for Virak and Quentin.

  But Hokor knew.

  Gredok had obviously informed his workaholic coach that Donald Pine, two-time Galaxy Bowl Champion, one-time League MVP and erstwhile savior of the Ionath Krakens franchise had been taking Hokor’s detailed game plans and basically using them to wipe his butt. Pine had gone from starter to the doghouse faster than a ship moving in punch drive.