by Scott Sigler
All-Pro, MVP, this honor or that honor, none of it mattered anymore. He and his teammates were two wins from a second-straight league title — wins that would be far harder to grab now that one of their starting linebackers was out of the picture.
On the Touchback’s practice field, John Tweedy tore off his helmet and slammed it into the turf so hard that parts broke off and spun through the air.
The entire team stopped their drills and turned to watch. Quentin held the ball, waiting for John to do his version of coaching. Quentin said nothing, Hokor said nothing: the defense belonged to John Tweedy. Ju and Becca stood next to Quentin, waiting until it was time to run the next play.
In a way, it was no different than a regular-season practice — offense in orange, defense in black, quarterbacks in red — but everyone was on edge, knowing that one more win put them into the Galaxy Bowl.
John stood in front of Samuel Darkeye, who had taken Choto’s place at right outside linebacker. Sweat sheened Samuel’s face and matted his black hair to his head.
“Dammit, Darkeye. You have to scrape, not over-penetrate!”
“Sorry,” Samuel Darkeye said. “I know that. Sorry.”
John stepped to the linebacker, his brow furrowed deep, his lip curled.
“If you’re taking Choto’s place, you have to play right,” he said. “What’s the matter, Sam? Don’t you want to win another title?”
GET ME SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO WIN scrolled across John’s face.
Darkeye leaned back, almost as if he’d been slapped.
“Yeah, of course I do! I got it, John, honest.”
John’s face twisted into something horrible. He reached down, picked up his helmet by the facemask and whipped it to the turf again. This time the facemask snapped, coming clean off the helmet.
“I don’t want honest! I want proper technique! I want a gangster that delivers a proper pizza on time and learns how to shucking scrape to the ball!”
Wild-eyed, John turned in place, looking for something, then found it.
“Pishor! Get in here, and don’t make a molehill mountain out of a skinned cat! Darkeye, get off my field!”
Ju nudged Quentin.
“Your brother is crazy,” Ju said. “You should be ashamed of your family.”
“You’re the one that shares his genes,” Quentin said.
“Nah,” Ju said. “I got all the good genes. John is all junk DNA.”
Becca laughed, shook her head.
Darkeye looked up to Hokor’s floating golf cart, silently asking the coach if he had to obey John’s demand.
“You heard him,” Hokor said, the cart’s speakerfilm amplifying his voice. “In fact, while Pishor gives it a try, you should run laps for your total incompetence, and think about the fundamentals of your position while you do.”
“Laps? How many laps, Coach?”
“Until I get tired of watching you! Now run the laps that I called!”
Darkeye cursed under his breath and jogged to the sidelines, kicking John’s broken helmet when he passed it.
Pishor was Virak’s backup at left outside linebacker, but the second-year player was smart enough to handle switching sides. He was also 400 pounds, same weight as Choto, and significantly larger than the 310-pound Darkeye. Quentin felt bad for Samuel, but after two days of watching the man not get the job done, truth was Quentin had hoped John and Hokor would make that change sooner.
Choto’s injury was a big problem, but it wasn’t the end of the world. The rest of the defense was just too strong, and it would take a Creterakian frigate to stop the offense. The Orbiting Death would go after Darkeye, Pishor, Shayat the Thick or whoever lined up in Choto’s position, handing the ball to their hot rookie running back Danté Diener and also passing to that area — the Krakens would just have to overcome.
Live feed from UBS GameDay holocast coverage
“Hello, football fans, and welcome back from commercial break. I’m Masara the Observant, here with Chick McGee for UBS. Planet Division finals. With time ticking away in the fourth quarter, Ionath is ahead of OS1 35-16 and has the ball. OS1 is out of timeouts. This game looks all but over. Chick, if the Krakens play like this in the Galaxy Bowl, do you think there’s even a chance they won’t repeat as champions?”
“Well, Masara, there’s always a chance of that, just as there’s a chance you’ll stop eating whatever arthropods you’re eating that completely disagree with your digestive system, as evidenced by the hanging cloud of green death filling the broadcast booth.”
“Chick! Do you know how many sentients are watching this—”
“Sorry, Masara, sorry, folks at home. Masara, you’re right to say that whoever wins the late game between Jupiter and Bartel is going to have their hands full with the Krakens. As if Quentin Barnes wasn’t enough of a challenge by himself, just look at the way Ju Tweedy is running the ball against his old team.”
“Tweedy is a wrecking ball with legs, Chick. He has one hundred twelve yards rushing and two touchdowns on just seventeen carries. Ionath coach Hokor the Hookchest has really utilized ball control in this one, keeping it mostly on the ground with runs by Tweedy, Yassoud Murphy and fullback Becca Montagne. The Orbiting Death can’t seem to stop the Krakens’ ground game.”
“Well, they can’t stop the air attack, either, Masara. Three touchdown passes today from Quentin Barnes — one to George Starcher, one to Becca the Wrecka and one to the veteran Hawick. Two hundred seventy yards passing on a twenty-two of twenty-six performance. And another key stat — zero dropped passes. Those Ionath receivers catch everything thrown their way.”
“Chick, it seems the only weak spot for the Krakens might be on defense. The season-ending injury to starting outside linebacker Choto the Bright has really impacted them, hasn’t it?”
“Right you are, Masara. Pishor the Fang, Samuel Darkeye and Shayat the Thick have all rotated in at that position today. While they haven’t been blown out of the water, none of them are up to Choto’s level, which is why Death running back Danté Diener rushed for almost two hundred yards today. The Krakens’ D, however, has been bend but not break. In the red zone, the Ionath defensive secondary just will not give up a touchdown pass. OS1 has been in the red zone five times and had to settle for just one Diener touchdown and three field goals.”
“Back to the action on the field, Chick. As expected, the Krakens line up in the victory formation. Barnes takes the snap ... and takes a knee. That’s going to do it, folks. The Ionath Krakens are headed to their second straight title game. For Chick McGee and all of us at UBS Sports, goodbye from Ionath City. Chick and I will be back next week to call the play-by-play for Galaxy Bowl Twenty-Eight. See you at Rolling Rock Stadium.”
Transcript from the “Galaxy’s Greatest Sports Show with Dan, Akbar, and Tarat the Smasher”
DAN: Boys, we’ve got a heck of a show lined up, but we all know what we want to talk about — what an amazing win by the Jupiter Jacks to get into the Galaxy Bowl against Ionath, a rematch of last year’s title game!
TARAT: It was a spectacular come-from-behind victory, Dan. I find it hard to reconcile Don Pine’s age with his performance against Bartel.
AKBAR: Yeah, man. Three fourth-quarter touchdowns that came out of nowhere. I mean, Jupiter was scoreless through three quarters, then boom, Pine goes off like a punch drive and the Jacks win 21-20. All those people who thought Pine was old and washed up? I wonder what they think now.
DAN: Well, Pine is old, Akbar, no question about that. He was awful in the first three quarters. Let’s see, here ... ah, yes — ten for thirty, sacked three times, one fumble and one interception.
TARAT: Dan, perhaps you do not understand the concept of the GFL. The point is to win. Don Pine played poorly in the first three quarters, but for the second playoff game in a row, he led the way to victory.
DAN: Come on, Smasher ... Pine’s a shell of his former self. It took him three quarters to remember that Bartel’s free safety Alpharetta wasn�
�t in the game due to suspension.
TARAT: Pine did score all three touchdowns on post patterns thrown at backup safety Millbrook, that is true.
DAN: Exactly. Bartel is a good team, don’t get me wrong, but if Pine has three bad quarters against Barnes and company, there aren’t enough fourth-quarter miracles in all the universe to bail Pine out of that one. Ionath has defense.
AKBAR: And Jupiter has magic.
DAN: Little buddy, what the hell are you talking about?
AKBAR: Have you been smoking something during our commercial breaks? This is the third straight Galaxy Bowl appearance for Jupiter and their fourth in five seasons!
DAN: And they’ve lost two of those! And if they lose next week, they’ll have lost three of four
TARAT: Dan, you seem overly agitated.
AKBAR: They’ve been to four of the last five Galaxy Bowls, and you’re saying that’s a bad thing? What the hell is wrong with you, Dan? Pine just wins, baby.
DAN: Look, Pine isn’t a bad quarterback, but he’s lucky to be in a good system. He can barely move anymore.
TARAT: Dan, your ignorance of football fills me with shame that I am a part of this show. Don Pine has won sixteen of his last nineteen starts for Jupiter. He is four-and-one in the playoffs since he rejoined the Jacks last season, the only loss coming to the Krakens in last year’s Galaxy Bowl. His overall playoff record is ten wins and two losses, and he has two Galaxy Bowl titles.
DAN: Yes-yes-yes, he moves that wheelchair of his around like a pro, I know. Let’s not forget that six of those ten playoff wins and both of the championships came ten years ago.
AKBAR: Pine will be playing for his third title in front of a home crowd at Rolling Rock Stadium. If he wins, he retires, goes out on top tied for the most Galaxy Bowl wins ever. That’s so magical it might as well be in a storybook.
DAN: Let’s talk about a quarterback that’s in his prime now, not last decade. Barnes is just lights-out the last two games. Tarat, in all your days on the gridiron, did you ever see anything like it?
TARAT: Dan, I did not. Barnes’s last three games were the best football I have ever witnessed, and I should point out that I played against Frank Zimmer, Don Pine in his prime and Hittoni’s three-time Galaxy Bowl champion Sam London. What Barnes is doing at the position is unprecedented. What’s more, it is obvious to anyone with football experience that his leadership is extraordinary. I believe that every player on that team — offense or defense, from any species — would take a bullet for Barnes. That is a quality that can’t be coached and can’t be taught. He is a true warrior. He would rather die than lose.
DAN: Whoa, Smasher ... that’s quite a statement.
AKBAR: Yeah, Tarat, why don’t you just marry the guy?
TARAT: Your infantile attempts at humor in no way impact my statement. Barnes is the best player in the game. He will lead the Krakens to a 31-17 win.
DAN: Hold on, there, Tarat! Just jumping right to the predictions, are you? Well, fine — Akbar, our Hall of Fame co-host just made his pick, you ready to put your Don Pine money where your mouth is?
AKBAR: Like there’s any question, Dan. Pine gets his third ring. Jupiter 24, Ionath 21.
DAN: Tarat, I have to say I’m with Akbar on this one, and from what I’ve seen, so are the majority of football fans. The Old Man upstages The Kid, goes into the Hall of Fame with three titles. Jacks 27, Krakens 24.
TARAT: The emotions of the fans have zero impact on the games. Your decision-making process is flawed.
DAN: We shall see, Tarat, we shall see! Let’s find out what the callers think. Caller Two from Shorah, you’re on the space, go!
49
Galaxy Bowl XXVII
Ionath Krakens vs. Jupiter Jacks
Red Storm City, Jupiter Net Colony, Planetary Union
THE REALITY WAVE COURSED through the ship. Even though the entire team — including Hokor, Messal and Gredok — was packed into the observation deck, watching him, Quentin couldn’t force his body into submission. He held the golden bucket close — at least he’d been smart enough to have only a small lunch before the final punch-out.
Embarrassed but unable to stop himself, he threw up.
“Dadgummit,” John said. “Q, I would really appreciate some consistency in your vomiting.”
A few of the Krakens laughed, but most were busy staring out the floor-to-ceiling viewport windows.
“Sorry, John,” Quentin said as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin.
“Octuple payout for me,” Ju said. “That’s a lot of money, John.”
“I hate math,” John said.
Virak the Mean reached down, lifted Gredok the Splithead up to his shoulder so that everyone could see the Leader. The team fell silent.
“Krakens, the observation deck is not designed to hold this many sentients, and from the accumulated odor, it is clear some of you are not utilizing the nannite showers as often as you should,” Gredok said. “Barnes, if you would finish with that mess, I have something to say.”
Quentin set the can down and tied off the bag. As he did, he fixated briefly on the new Jupiter Jacks sticker John had put on the side.
I’m coming for you, Fine ... no way you get a third ring.
“Krakens, I will make this brief,” Gredok said. “I wanted us to be together to see this.”
The black-furred leader pointed a pedipalp finger out the window toward the mass of Jupiter, toward the floating, domed spectacle known as Red Storm City, home to over a million sentients. Through that dome, a packed urban landscape of tall buildings and — clearly visible in the city’s center — Rolling Rock Stadium with its classical white-lined dark-green field.
“There lies your destiny,” Gredok said. “Only two teams have repeated as GFL champions, the Hittoni Hullwalkers and the very same Jacks you will face in three days. While the Jacks expanded their stadium to add more seating, the field itself hasn’t changed — it is the same field we won on three years ago. We will win here again. Your Galaxy Bowl victory will not only be historic, it will be legendary, because you will defeat Jupiter in their own house.”
Heads nodded, sentients grunted in agreement. Ionath was the better team on paper, but the drama of Don Pine going for his third title on his home turf had captured the galaxy’s imagination. Quentin loved it: he’d been worried about his team being overconfident, but the perception that most fans were pulling for Pine made the Krakens feel disrespected — which was exactly how Quentin wanted them to feel.
“History is yours for the taking,” Gredok said. “Plus, substantial financial bonuses if you win. Coach Hokor has a few things to say.”
The yellow-furred Leader slipped through the press of bodies to stand next to Virak. Heads craned to see him.
Quentin reached down, picked Hokor up and sat him on his shoulder.
“Thank you, Barnes. Krakens, we are heading into the final game of the season. Gredok and I fear that there is too great a risk of attack from those that want to modify the outcome of the game, so we will stay on the Touchback for the next two days.”
Quentin expected a groan of disappointment from John, Yassoud, Cliff Frost and the other typical bar-going crew, but the men said nothing. Everyone understood: they were on the brink of a second championship, and giving up a couple of nights on the town was a small price to pay.
“Normal practice today,” the coach said. “Tomorrow is the mandatory pre-Galaxy Bowl Media Day, an unfortunate tradition that we must suffer through. However, due to those same security concerns, Commissioner Froese has agreed to allow us to host Media Day on the Touchback instead of in the stadium. You will all spend two hours on the practice field, taking questions from reporters. Due to the high demand for Barnes, he will be taking scheduled interviews in the Kriegs-Ballok virtual practice room.”
There were overly dramatic boos and jibes like fancy pants! and too important to be with the team?, but it was all in good fun. Everyone understood that if Quentin was on the practice fie
ld, he’d be completely surrounded the entire time — although that wasn’t the real reason for the isolation. Still, Quentin’s face flushed: even in jest, he hated anyone thinking he was above the team.
“Enough grab-assing,” Hokor said, silencing the jibes. “On Saturday, we will shuttle down to Red Storm City under heavy Creterakian escort for a walk-through practice at the stadium. Then, on Sunday, the utter destruction and humiliation of the Jupiter Jacks. Dismissed.”
Quentin set the coach down. The players, Gredok and Hokor filtered out of the packed observation deck. Quentin waited for them to leave, until he stood alone with Messal.
“Elder Barnes, I have accommodated your request,” Messal said. “Tomorrow, Jonathan Sandoval will be here with the media, but he will be limited to the practice field. Armed guards will be at the VR room’s entryway to ensure that only properly scheduled media personnel can meet with you.”
“Thank you,” Quentin said. “And you didn’t tell Gredok about my request?”
“I did not,” Messal said. “I suggested that — this close to the game — perhaps he wanted to take all available precautions to protect you while still allowing you to perform your leaguerequired media duties. He concurred.”
Messal the Efficient, subtly manipulating once again.
Quentin would have rather banned Sandoval from coming to the Touchback at all, but doing so would have raised questions. The man still had to make a living. Sandoval kept Quentin’s secret, and Quentin would keep Sandoval’s.
“Messal, you are the best,” Quentin said.
“Of course, Elder Barnes. Oh, one more thing. Coach Hokor has scheduled a position meeting in the VR room after the media has left. Quarterbacks and fullbacks.”
Quentin nodded. “Understood. Thank you.”
Messal bowed, then walked out.
Quentin turned to take one last look out the viewport windows. The sprawling mass of the gas giant in the background, Red Storm City in the foreground, and in all directions, thousands of ships and constructs that made up the Jupiter Net Colony.
Destiny.
