by Scott Sigler
Following the Stalkers game, Quentin had cleaned up, congratulated his teammates on the dominant win, then done his time in the post-game press conference. After that, the short walk through the secure underground tunnel that ran the stadium to the Krakens Building, then up to his apartment.
The door chime sounded softly, and for a brief second, Quentin’s heart surged at the thought of Becca finally coming to see him.
[JOHN TWEEDY AT YOUR DOOR.]
Quentin sighed. “Enter.”
John came in, hand in hand with Jeanine. The sight of his sister instantly raised Quentin’s spirits a little. She gave him a big hug.
“Good game, baby brother.”
“Thanks. You watched on holo?”
She shook her head. “Hell no, I was there this time. Don’t worry, no one would have recognized me.”
Jeanine held up her palm and tapped the icons that appeared above it. A holopic popped up, showing two smiling mustached men wearing Sheb Stalkers jerseys and jackets. It took Quentin a second, but he recognized Jeanine as one of the men.
“A fake moustache?”
She held a slim finger against her upper lip. “Presto! I’m like a whole ’nother person, don’t you think?”
Quentin didn’t recognize the man in the picture with her, but he didn’t need to.
“I’m glad Fred was with you.”
“Me too,” John said. The words CHICKS LOOK BETTER WITHOUT FACIAL HAIR scrolled across his forehead. Jeanine laughed and elbowed him in the ribs.
“Q, we’re going to dinner to celebrate,” John said. “Come with us. Fred’s going to be there. Ju might come, too, if he’s not out drinking with ’Soud, Crawford and Athanas. By the way, that rookie can drink.”
Food would be good, as would spending time with his sister ... but what if Becca called back?
“Nah, you guys go ahead. I’m going to analyze our game footage.”
“We’ve got three straight road games coming up,” John said. “Coranadillana, then Yall, then the six-day trip from Yall to Neptune, then the six-day trip from Neptune back home — we’ll be away from Ionath for two full weeks. You need to enjoy these home wins while you can, brother of mine.”
Jeanine reached out and held Quentin’s hand.
“Come on,” she said. “A relaxed dinner away from this little apartment of yours will do you good. Listen to your big sister. She knows all about affairs of the heart.”
She knew he and Becca were having trouble? Of course she did — she was dating the team’s linebacker, who also happened to be Quentin’s best friend.
Quentin had been so obsessed with the season, with the Ice Storm and then the Stalkers — and with his love life — that he hadn’t really carved out time to spend with Jeanine. That was stupid: he’d crossed the galaxy to save her, then couldn’t be bothered to take an elevator two floors down and hang out with her every now and then? He was busy, sure, but nobody could be that busy.
Sometimes, he realized, he didn’t know how fast the weeks were flying by, didn’t comprehend how much time passed while he was heads-down in playbooks, practice and game footage.
“Okay, I’ll go,” he said. “As long as the restaurant isn’t Torba the Hungry’s.”
Jeanine made a sour face. “I don’t think I ever want to see that place again.”
“Ever-ever?” John said, his eyes widening like he was six and Jeanine had just broken his favorite toy. “But Torba’s is great. The ribs are amazing. Q, why wouldn’t you want to go ... oh, right, the whole big light thing and almost shooting your fake dad in the face.” John shrugged. “Anyway, we’re going to Bernie’s Biscuit House. He’s got a private back room.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Quentin said. “Just have to finish up a few things first.”
Jeanine stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Okay, but don’t take long.”
John and Jeanine left. Quentin didn’t have anything to finish up, but maybe he could ask Becca to come to dinner. Maybe if Becca knew John and Jeanine would be there, she might come.
He felt a rush of embarrassment. No, he wasn’t going to call Becca a second time in one night, no way. She was the one being ridiculous, not him. He was stronger than that.
The door chime sounded. Quentin’s heart betrayed him, again surging at the hope that it was Becca coming to talk.
[MICHAEL KIMBERLIN AT YOUR DOOR.]
Quentin sighed. “Enter.”
The mountain of HeavyG offensive guard walked in. His right eye was swollen and blackened, and there was a smear of blue nanomed gel on his split lower lip. Quentin hadn’t been touched all night, but only because his offensive line had battled hard to protect him.
“Good evening, Quentin.”
“What’s up, Mike? I was about to head out to dinner.”
Kimberlin raised an eyebrow. “You’re going out instead of studying for next week? Will wonders never cease?”
Quentin rolled his eyes. “I leave the building sometimes.”
“An event more rare than a full eclipse, I assure you. If you have a moment before you go, I have an issue of some importance.”
The man looked deadly serious.
“Uh, sure, Mike. Go ahead.”
Kimberlin started to talk, then paused, gathering his thoughts. Quentin waited. Kimberlin usually knew exactly what he wanted to say, about any and all subjects. Whatever this concerned, it was hard for him.
“We had a conversation two seasons ago, he said. “I don’t know if you recall it. I told you that someday you might use your abilities for something greater than football.”
Quentin nodded. “When I cooked dinner for the Ki, right? When Mum-O barfed up a hamburger.”
“Which was less than appetizing.”
“You can say that again.”
Kimberlin’s voice dropped in volume, not to a whisper, exactly, but not far from it.
“After our trip to the Portath Cloud, I believe that someday I spoke of has arrived. Our next game is in Coranadillana. Being there gives you a chance to discreetly meet with sentients from the Tribal Accord’s independence movement.”
Independence movement? What did that have to do with anything?
“Mike, if you want to charge sentients for my autograph, do I get a cut of that action?”
Kimberlin’s face wrinkled in annoyance. “This isn’t the time for your bad jokes. I’m not talking about your thumbprint.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“The invasion,” Kimberlin said.
Quentin’s anger stirred, a snake slowly uncoiling in his belly. He’d finally pushed away all thoughts of Petra’s ridiculous request, and here was Mike, stirring things up again.
“Wait a minute,” Quentin said. “How could that be what you meant when you said I should do something greater than football? We had that conversation way before we went to the Cloud.”
“That’s not what I meant at the time,” Kimberlin said. “I was trying to ... it doesn’t matter. What matters is now. You have a huge role to play in all of this, and we can start this week. The Harrah have the best pilots and fightercraft in the galaxy. Sure, the Creterakians have thousands of Harrah in the Imperial Fleet, but we’ll need the underground support of the tribal leaders from each of the Accord’s five homeworlds. I can arrange meetings with members of the five major tribes.”
This was coming from out of nowhere. What the hell was the Harrah independence movement? How did Mike know anyone from it? And why was he bringing this up now, when ...
The snake in Quentin’s belly unfurled further, lifted its head and flashed fangs dripping with poison.
“You talked to Petra,” he said. “Bumberpuff had a message for you, right? Petra put you up to this.”
“What?” Kimberlin shook his head. “No, I didn’t talk to Petra ... wait, did you talk to her again? Since we’ve been back?”
The thought of that excited Kimberlin, animated him.
“It’s a lie, Mike. There’s
no invasion.”
The words just came out and they felt good, they felt right. Quentin desperately wanted them to be true. If the invasion was a lie, he didn’t have to change anything, he could enjoy the life that he’d worked so hard to build.
Mike crossed his arms. “Why would Petra lie about it?”
“Maybe their economy is failing, I don’t know,” Quentin said. “They have no trade with other systems. Maybe she wants to use this to get other nations to accept her. She needs something after all the wars she started — a boogeyman even scarier than the Prawatt might do that.”
“The Prawatt have existed for centuries without intergalactic trade,” Kimberlin said. “That doesn’t seem likely.”
Quentin shrugged. “I said I don’t know why she’s lying, Mike, I just know she is. And even if she isn’t? It’s still not my problem.”
The HeavyG stared, a scowl slowly forming on his oversized features. “If she’s not lying, the life of every sentient in this galaxy is at risk, and it’s not your problem?” He shook his head. “Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe everyone was.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I thought you’d left the selfish kid from Micovi behind.”
Quentin wanted to hit him. If Mike hadn’t been so damn big, he might have done just that.
“Selfish? I’m a team player and you know it. I’ve given everything I have for the Krakens.”
The HeavyG pounded a huge fist into a huge hand, and his face screwed up tight with fury.
“I’m not talking about football! I’m talking about the entire galaxy going to war!”
Quentin had learned how to control his own emotions mostly because his default state was one of rage. Kimberlin wasn’t like that: anywhere but the football field, Mike was always calm, always collected, always spoke in a voice so smooth it could make a rabid dog lie down and take a nice nap. Before now, Quentin had never heard the man yell. Had they been talking about anything else, anything at all, Quentin would have tried to slow things down and understand his friend, his teammate and tutor and mentor, but when it came to Petra and her delusions Quentin was simply done with all of it.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told her,” Quentin said, unable to hide the threatening growl that laced his voice. “If you think there’s a war coming, then go get a soldier, someone who can actually do something about it. You supposedly know the Harrah independence movement? If that isn’t just as much crap as Petra is slinging, then tell them.”
Kimberlin breathed in deep through his nose, a sharp, long sound like he was trying to jam a cork into a bottle of frustration. He let it out slow, and his face returned to normal: calm, placid, patient. His face, yes, but his eyes still simmered with anger.
“I may have asked you for action before I fully explained why I think this is real,” he said, his voice strained. “I can educate you on why this is so important, Quentin. I can—”
“Get out, Mike. Get the hell out of my apartment. Now.”
Mike stared, his mouth twitching slightly. Quentin wondered if that cork might pop from internal pressure, and knew that if it did, there would be no putting it back.
“We’re not finished with this,” Kimberlin said.
“We are. Get out.”
Kimberlin shook his head, then turned and left. The door hissed shut behind him, leaving Quentin fuming and wishing he had a target. Any target.
It didn’t matter what Kimberlin believed, didn’t matter what Petra said, didn’t even matter if Bumberpuff was really being used or if he was the one pulling these strings. Right now what mattered was that the Krakens were in first place, and that his sister was waiting to share a meal with him.
Focus on that ... you have responsibilities to the team and your family ... just calm down, just calm down ...
Quentin waited for a few minutes to make sure he wouldn’t run into Kimberlin in the halls, then headed out to dinner.
GFL WEEK TWO ROUNDUP
Courtesy of Galaxy Sports Network
Home
Away
Yall Criminals
42
Alimum Armada
3
Buddha City Elite
24
Coranadillana Cloud Killers
21
Orbiting Death
35
D’Oni Coelacanths
14
Ionath Krakens
42
Sheb Stalkers
3
Themala Dreadnaughts
24
Isis Ice Storm
21
To Pirates
28
Wabash Wolfpack
17
Jupiter Jacks
10
Bartel Water Bugs
28
Neptune Scarlet Fliers
37
Bord Brigands
12
D’Kow War Dogs
28
Shorah Warlords
24
Jang Atom Smashers
10
Texas Earthlings
21
McMurdo Murderers
7
Vik Vanguard
24
Is it too soon to dub 2686 the “Season of the Gunslinger”?
Quarterback barrels blazed this week, led by Rick Renaud and Quentin Barnes. Both signal-callers guided their squads to 42-3 blowouts: the Criminals (2-0) over the Alimum Armada (1-1), and Ionath (2-0) over the Sheb Stalkers (1-1). Barnes racked up 367 yards and five TD passes, while Renaud threw for 381 yards and four scores.
The two QBs are either #1 or #2 in the league in passing yards, TD passes and completion percentage, which certainly makes their looming Week 4 matchup look like a potential shootout. In Week 3, the Krakens visit Coranadillana (0-2), while Yall has the tougher outing in a visit to OS1 (2-0).
“It’s a huge game for us,” Renaud said. “The Death are one of the best teams in the league.”
OS1 continued their home-field dominance, notching a 35-14 win over the surprisingly competitive D’Oni Coelacanths. The win came at a high cost, however, with the second-quarter death of OS1 running back Chooch Motumbo.
“Chooch was a big part of our playoff run last year,” said OS1 team owner Anna Villani. “He’ll be missed, but we’re excited about the debut of Danté Diener and hope he can keep up the great work.”
Diener, a rookie running back, came in after Motumbo died. Diener ran for 112 yards on 15 carries, including touchdown runs of 32 and 27 yards.
Also in Planet Division action, the To Pirates (1-1) got back on track with a 28-17 win over Wabash (1-1). The Jupiter Jacks (0-2) might have come just a touchdown away from winning last year’s Galaxy Bowl, but so far this season the Don Pine–led squad is winless. The Jacks fell 28-10 to the Solar Division–leading Water Bugs (2-0). Bartel QB Andre “Death Ray” Ridley ran wild, rushing for 87 yards on 10 carries, including two touchdowns, and threw for another 215 yards and two TD strikes to wide receiver Dixonge.
Neptune (2-0) and Texas (2-0) remain tied with Bartel for first place in the Solar.
The Scarlet Fliers hung a 37-12 drubbing on the Bord Brigands (0-2). Neptune’s defense dominated, holding the Brigands to 198 yards of total offense and keeping them out of the end zone all afternoon. Fliers defensive tackle Chris Maler notched three sacks, while linebacker Jan “The Destroyer” Dennison had an interception and a fumble recovery.
Texas notched a 21-10 win over Jang (1-1). Next week, the Earthlings have a chance to go to 3-0 for the first time in franchise history when they visit the winless Isis Ice Storm (0-2).
Deaths
OS1 running back Chooch Motumbo, killed on a simultaneous hit by D’Oni linebackers Dana Stowell and CB Harvey. The league is reviewing the hit, as illegal head-to-head contact may have been involved.
Offensive Player of the Week
Ionath Krakens quarterback Quentin Barnes, who threw for 367 yards and five TD passes in a win over the Sheb Stalk
ers.
Defensive Player of the Week
Yall Criminals linebacker Anthony Meaders. Meaders had seven solo tackles, five assists, a forced fumble and a sack against the Alimum Armada.
36
Week Three:
Ionath Krakens at
Coranadillana Cloud Killers
PLANET DIVISION
SOLAR DIVISION
2-0
Buddha City Elite
2-0
Bartel Water Bugs
2-0
Ionath Krakens
2-0
Neptune Scarlet Fliers
2-0
OS1 Orbiting Death
2-0
Texas Earthlings
2-0
Yall Criminals
1-1
D’Kow War Dogs
1-1
Alimum Armada
1-1
Jang Atom Smashers
1-1
Themala Dreadnaughts
1-1
Sheb Stalkers
1-1
To Pirates
1-1
Vik Vanguard
1-1
Wabash Wolfpack
0-2
Bord Brigands
0-2
Coranadillana Cloud Killers
0-2
Jupiter Jacks
0-2
D’Oni Coelacanths
0-2
McMurdo Murderers
0-2
Isis Ice Storm
0-2
Shorah Warlords
QUENTIN RELEASED THE BALL only a split-second before a big HeavyG lineman smashed into him and lifted at the same time, shoulder pad in his ribs, giant arms crushing around his waist. Quentin didn’t have to see the ball’s path to know it was on target, that it would hit Denver for six.
