by Scott Sigler
“A football field is one hundred yards, right?”
“One-twenty,” Quentin said. “Two ten-yard end zones, so one-twenty total.”
“Then think of the Touchback as two football fields, end-to-end. Got it?”
Quentin nodded.
“Eighteen decks,” she said. “Fourteen Semini-class P-22 impulse engines. He’s big, forty-two thousand GRTs.”
“What’s a GRT?”
“Gross register tons.”
“What’s a gross register ton?”
“If you can’t do meters, how about we skip the GRT explanation, okay?”
Her condescending tone annoyed him, but he nodded anyway. No, not condescending, more like ... patronizing. She didn’t think he was smart enough to handle all of this, but she also didn’t seem to think that was necessarily a bad thing.
“He’s also got nine quad guns,” she said. “Three of them are broken, but he’s still got enough to fend off most pirates.”
“Why do you keep calling the Touchback a he? I thought ships were thought of as girls. Women, I mean ... thought of as women.”
Kate shrugged. “People think of ships as the fairer sex. So, I think of them as male. Hey, you want to see the guns?”
Quentin had never seen actual ship weapons before. “Sure, yeah.”
“Come on, big boy,” she said. “Captain Kate will take you all kinds of new places.”
• • •
“HIGH ONE,” QUENTIN SAID. “This is a cannon?”
Captain Cheevers nodded. They stood in a small, plain room. A four-foot by four-foot, flat-black platform rose a few inches from the metal deck. The walls were also black, the whole room lit up by a few overhead lights. The room didn’t look dirty, exactly — it just felt unused. Opposite the entry door, Quentin saw a long, horizontal crysteel port, about ten feet long but only a foot high. Through that port, out on the hull of the ship, he saw a long, armored shell, paint scratched by countless miles of interstellar travel. Beyond that, faded by distance, the far wall of the Torvalds.
“Welcome to Gun Cabin Six,” Kate said. She punched a three-digit code — 726 — into a keypad. The platform surface changed from a flat black to a glossy sheen. She stepped onto the four-by-four platform. She held her hands at chest level, palms down, fingers outstretched.
Quentin felt the deck vibrate, just a bit. Through the port, he saw the armored shell split down the middle and slide into recessed housing, revealing a lethal-looking, oblong gun-mount that ended in four barrels pointing away into the void. The barrels alone had to be ten feet long each. He’d never seen an active, ship-sized weapon before — that thing out there could destroy an entire shuttle and every sentient on it. The concept scared the crap out of him.
A holographic ball of light appeared in front of Captain Kate. Lines stretched up from it, out from it, and forward and back from it. Each line showed a regular series of hash marks.
“This is your X-Y-Z axis,” she said. “Each slash is a kilometer. You can zoom out ...”
She lifted her fingers so her hands were palm-out. The distance between the hash marks shortened. Quentin instantly saw the relation — the shorter the distance between the hash marks, the bigger the scale of the X-Y-Z display.
“ ... or you can zoom in.”
She turned her hands palms-in, fingers up. The hash marks started stretching away from each other, signifying the scale was closing in.
Captain Kate twisted at the hips, moving her hands to the right. The X-Y-Z display changed direction in time, as did the direction of the four cannon barrels.
“It points where you point,” she said.
“It doesn’t follow eye-tracking?”
“Human eyes flick around too fast,” she said. “Eye-tracking might work in a ground-based combat system, where you can sight a target as it’s flying, but things move too fast up here. You flick your eye for a split second, you’re wasting rounds. So it’s hand gestures with the computer auto-correcting.”
“How do you fire?”
She looked back at him and smiled. “You want to see me shoot the scary cannon, pretty boy?”
“Uh ... well, I don’t know.”
Wink-twitch. “It’s okay. I’m the Captain. We’re loaded with blanks for stress testing in dry dock, but you’ll get the idea.”
She turned back to face forward, leveled her hands, then clenched her left fist. The top two quad cannons roared, cones of smoke blowing out their rears. She clenched her right fist, and the bottom two barrels fired.
The deck vibrated in time with the shots, insinuating the cannon’s awesome power.
She paused, then made left-right-left-right fists, a bam-bam-bam-bam of vibration and smoke plumes. Had they been live rounds, aimed at a ship like his yacht, how bad would the damage be? Would sentients be dead?
Captain Kate again pointed her fingers out, hands palms-down, then slowly dropped them to her thighs. The gun turret fell still, then lowered. Kate stepped off the holoplate. She punched the three-number code into the keypad. The holoplate’s glossy light faded. Once again, it was just a flat-black piece of flooring.
She walked back to Quentin, smiling confidently.
“Did you like that? Did it scare you?”
“A little.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, “Captain Kate is here to take care of you. I’ll keep you safe.”
She was staring at him, smiling, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. He felt an urge to get out of this confined, secluded space.
He turned and walked to the door, talking over his shoulder so he could see her but didn’t have to make eye contact. “You just point and shoot? It seems so ... easy.”
Captain Kate nodded. “Sadly, killing usually is. Shooting is easy, anyway. Out in the void, things move fast. We would be shooting projectiles at objects moving at thousands of kilometers an hour, projectiles that themselves have to travel several kilometers to hit that moving target.”
“So why don’t computers handle it?”
She shook her head. “Computer-controlled weaponry is illegal. Creterakians rarely allow a ship to have defensive weaponry at all. Computer-controlled guns can hit just about anything, including Creterakian ships that might come to board us.”
“So if we do get attacked, who does the shooting?”
Captain Kate waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry your pretty head about that. The Krakens staff is trained to handle emergencies.”
Quentin thought of Messal the Efficient, tried to imagine the Quyth Worker firing the anti-spacecraft cannons. “Captain, are you sure? I mean, the guys and girls on the team, they have really great reaction time, and as for coordination, they—”
“Just worry about football,” Cheevers said, her tone still sweet but also a bit annoyed. “If it makes you feel better, the Quyth Warrior players man the guns. They’re experienced soldiers. We have things under control, Quentin. I have to get back to my duties, but if you have any other questions — or you want anything else — I’ll be in my cabin after ship-dusk.”
Something about her smile, again it made him uncomfortable. Quentin wondered if he would ever get used to all of these women who were so different from what he’d known back in the Purist Nation.
“Thanks, Captain Cheevers.”
“Call me Kate,” she said. Wink-twitch. “But only when no one is around.”
“Uh ... okay, Kate. Thanks again.”
Quentin turned and walked off, as quickly as he could without running.
6
DECEMBER 2683
HOW MUCH FOOTBALL had he watched in the past six months? Too much. Too much experiencing what others did, not enough doing it himself. He had played three seasons in a row, from his Tier Three campaign with the Raiders to the Tier Two season with the Krakens, then straight into Tier One. After all of that, he’d thought he wanted time off.
His body had healed up within a month. That left five months of his body screaming at him to find a game, to run, to throw, to hit. Tha
t itch could not be scratched. He’d had to wait.
But the wait was almost over.
Quentin Barnes sat in a luxury box in Earth’s Hudson Bay Stadium, watching two teams that would be his competition in just a few more weeks. The T2 Tourney championship game — Orbiting Death versus the Texas Earthlings. Win or lose, both of these teams were on their way to Tier One.
No teammates with him this time, no coach. He watched alone.
A year ago, he’d played in this same tournament, leading the Krakens to the semi-final win that put them into Tier One. The Krakens had finished 9-2 that year, winning the Quyth Irradiated Conference en route to their promotion to the big-time.
Quentin watched the Orbiting Death quarterback drop back. Condor Adrienne. Before Death owner Anna Villani signed him, Condor had been with the Whitok Pioneers, another team in the Quyth Irradiated. People had said Condor was better than Quentin. Most people still did.
But this season, Quentin would show everyone who was the best of the best.
Adrienne stood tall in the pocket, his flat-black uniform and metalflake-red helmet making him look like a perfectly posed actor on a movie poster. He calmly waited as a blitzing linebacker rushed in. Quentin recognized the linebacker — Alonzo Castro, whom Quentin had battled with in last year’s T2 Tourney.
Adrienne looked like a sitting duck, but an effortless step forward left the diving Castro grabbing only empty air. Adrienne fired the ball far downfield, where Coalville hauled it in. Touchdown. Just like that, the Death was up 7-0.
Adrienne might stay in for the first quarter, but after that he’d sit to make sure he didn’t suffer an injury that might impact his Tier One season. The Earthlings would replace the demoted Chillich Spider-Bears in the Solar Division. Quentin would only face them if both Texas and Ionath made it to the Galaxy Bowl — highly unlikely. The OS1 Orbiting Death, on the other hand, had replaced the Mars Planets. That put the Death in the Solar Division, the same as Ionath — the two teams would face off in Week Six.
In last season’s Tier One campaign, the Krakens had scraped by with a 4-8 record, needing to win their last two games just to stay in Tier One.
Four and eight.
As a seventeen-year-old rookie in the Purist Nation Football League, Quentin had led his team to a 5-4 record. He’d gone undefeated the next two seasons, 22-0 and winning a pair of PNFL Championships. The season after that, the Krakens went 9-2. Then last year, 4-8.
His first losing season.
His last losing season.
Never again would the Krakens be on the bottom of the table looking up. Never again.
Quentin concentrated on watching the Orbiting Death defense. He’d line up against these very players in Week Six. His brain cataloged thousands of bits of information about his future opponents.
He watched one player in particular — middle linebacker Yalla the Biter.
Yalla the Biter, who two seasons ago had maimed Krakens running back Paul Pierson. Yalla the Biter, who had torn open Quentin’s hand and spilled his blood all over the field.
Quentin had payback planned for that player, oh yes he did.
Come and play. I’ll be waiting.
BOOK TWO:
THE PRESEASON
7
PRESEASON WEEK ONE:
JANUARY 1 – 7, 2684
Transcript from the “Galaxy’s Greatest Sports Show with Dan, Akbar, and Tarat the Smasher”
DAN: Welcome back, sports fans! Dan Gianni here once again to anchor the Galaxy’s Greatest Sports Show, along with Akbar Smith and the legendary Hall-of-Fame linebacker known as Tarat the Smasher.
AKBAR: Thanks, Dan.
TARAT: Yes, Dan, thank you for such a kind intro.
DAN: Guys, it’s our favorite time of the year.
AKBAR: Giving day?
TARAT: The Feast of Bugs?
DAN: You know what time of the year it is. Today is the first day of Tier One preseason. Teams have reported to training camp.
AKBAR: And I’m back from the annual GFL rules committee meeting. Many changes are afoot.
TARAT: I am not fond of the rules committee. Why do they keep changing such a perfect game?
DAN: Tarat, if the rules committee didn’t change rules, there wouldn’t be a need for a committee, and hence, no jobs for them. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Akbar, what were the highlights?
AKBAR: Well, Dan, there’s a few major issues. This is GFL Commissioner Rob Froese’s third year in charge. He’s really trying to put his stamp on things. He’s working on a major reorganization, trying to connect Tier Three to Tier Two the way Tier Two is connected to Tier One. They also approved on-field holographic replay for 2685, so not for this coming season but for the one after that. Once that’s implemented, the refs on the field can watch the play exactly as it happened in the same place it happened.
TARAT: I hate replay.
DAN: Smasher, instant replay makes the game more fair.
TARAT: Life is full of variables and unfairness, Dan. Sentients should handle things as they come, not complain and try to change the past.
AKBAR: Froese also implemented new rules on concussions. Players with concussions now have to get approved by a league doctor before they can play again, not just the team doctor.
TARAT: Human brains are so fragile.
DAN: It’s for the good of the players, Smasher.
TARAT: A real football player knows how to play with pain.
DAN: Pain? We’re not talking just pain here, Smasher. We’re talking about players’ health. Brain damage. Their very lives.
TARAT: If you aren’t prepared to lay down your life for your team, you don’t belong in the game.
DAN: Hard for me to argue with a Hall of Fame linebacker. I’m just a schlub with a microphone. Akbar, how about the big question? How about the salary cap?
AKBAR: Froese finally got that one through. Next year, for the 2685 season, the salary cap goes into place.
TARAT: A salary cap goes against the basic principles of free trade. If someone wants to pay a sentient to perform a service, he should be allowed to pay whatever the market will bear.
DAN: Come on, Tarat. That means what it’s meant for decades — the teams with the most money lock up the best players. Teams like the To Pirates, Wabash Wolfpack, Hittoni Hullwalkers. They’ve always had more revenue and hence get the best talent, which means they win more games and more championships, which brings in more money, and the cycle continues. The rich get richer, the poor get relegated.
TARAT: The Themala Dreadnaughts don’t spend as much as everyone else, yet they win games.
AKBAR: True, but look at the Mars Planets. Last year they were the smallest market in Tier One. They’ve been promoted three times in the past twelve seasons and relegated just as many times. They always start the season strong, but their limited finances means they don’t have any roster depth. As soon as their starters get injured, they can’t compete. The Ionath Krakens could fall into that same trap. They have very little depth on defense.
TARAT: And the Krakens already lost more defensive depth. Ionath backup defensive end Ban-A-Tarew was signed by the Orbiting Death, and backup right cornerback Standish retired due to pregnancy. But that is how it goes in the GFL. You lose players, you replace players. In the Quyth Concordia, Dan, we believe in survival of the fittest. There are no rules in evolution — sports and business should be the same way.
AKBAR: Froese wants to make sure all teams in Tier One have the same amount of salary to share among their rosters. Starting in 2685, each team has a maximum of 128 megacredits per season to spend on player salaries.
DAN: Woah, that’s a chunk of change. What about Tier Two?
AKBAR: A little less. They can spend a max of 110 megacredits. Froese set the Tier One minimum player salary at one-point-two megacredits.
TARAT: One-point-two million? Some key players are making that right now.
DAN: And that brings up the huge issue of players in the las
t year of their current deal. This is known as a contract year, and there are some stars that are looking at just that.
AKBAR: Ryan Nossek, for example. He’s in the last year of a four-season deal with the Isis Ice Storm.
DAN: And how about Frank Zimmer? The living legend is in a contract year, but he missed several games last season with his seventh concussion. After this season, will the To Pirates pay him the money given to the League’s other top quarterbacks?
TARAT: Which, of course, brings the conversation back to a contract-year player making league minimum, Quentin Barnes of the Ionath Krakens.
AKBAR: You have to wonder if Gredok the Splithead signing Barnes to league minimum is going to wind up biting Gredok in the ass, Dan. Barnes can’t be happy with that.
TARAT: Especially when you consider that Don Pine makes five times as much for sitting on the bench. Even the backup quarterback, Yitzhak Goldman, makes more than Barnes.
DAN: You’re kidding me.
TARAT: I do not kid, Dan.
DAN: But how did you find that out? Salaries are supposed to be confidential.
TARAT: I have my sources.
AKBAR: If Barnes plays well in the upcoming season, his free-agency drama is going to be a zoo.
DAN: A zoo? What do you mean?
TARAT: A zoo is a park-like area in which live animals are kept in cages or large enclosures for public exhibition, Dan.
DAN: (audible sigh) Smasher, come on.
TARAT: And I have other news as well. My sources tell me that Barnes is considering agent Danny Lundy.
DAN: Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be in the room when Danny Lundy starts talking contract with Gredok the Splithead! Tarat, do you think this means Barnes will sign long-term with Ionath, or is he as good as gone after this season?
TARAT: It is unknown at this time. As I have said before, you Humans are obsessed with finances. Danny Lundy is known for negotiating large deals. Considering that the Mars Planets, the Bartel Water Bugs and the To Pirates have all said they are going to court Barnes, Lundy would have considerable leverage to get that big deal.
