The Starter (61 page)
Ju let out a grunt of surprise and pain. His feet seemed to slip as he came back down. He landed on his knees. Quentin had a moment — a brief,
idiotic
moment to think he’d ended it — then Ju threw his right elbow down in a short, savage arc. The tip of his elbow hit the top of Quentin’s toes. Quentin heard and felt the
snap
of something giving way just before molten-metal pain raged through his foot.
Quentin fell backward, following the instinct to get away. He landed on his butt, both hands clutching his broken toes.
“Shuck... er...” Ju said, forcing out the words. He was tucked into a fetal position, both hands at his groin. “Fight...
dirty
...”
“You... know it...” Quentin said, trying to focus through the pain. “Fight... to...
win
.”
Ju rolled to his hands and knees. If Quentin could have pressed the fight, it would have been over, but he couldn’t rise. Quentin knew he
had
to get up,
had
to
attack
.
He struggled to stand, hopping on just his right foot. Even that motion jarred his left toes, making them feel like the flesh was sliding across broken glass. Quentin hopped toward his foe.
Just as Ju started to rise, Quentin reached him and threw a hard overhand left. The blow caught Ju on the temple, instantly ripping open a long gash. Ju’s head snapped down, but popped back up. Quentin reared back and landed a second left, this time cutting Ju’s cheek. He raised his hand for a third, but Ju’s right hand grabbed the back of Quentin’s right heel and
yanked
.
Quentin’s foot shot out from under him. He landed hard on his back. Instinctively, he brought both fists up over his face, elbows tight to his ribs. Ju straddled him in an instant, blood sheeting off his enraged face, dripping down in streams rather than spatters.
The first right hit Quentin’s left shoulder, concussive force ripping through his chest. Then a left that Quentin blocked, then a right he also blocked, then a short left elbow that somehow slipped through and caught him in the mouth.
More
snaps
, this time, from his teeth. Blood and bits of tooth filled his mouth. Quentin couldn’t see, he could only
feel
. He felt Ju sitting back, rearing up high — the big right hand would be up at his ear, ramping up for an all-in haymaker.
Quentin waited for that first sensation of movement, then arched his hips high as hard as he could. Ju’s punch was already bringing him forward — Quentin’s bucking motion threw the big running back off-balance. As both of Ju’s hands hit the ground to catch his fall, Quentin reached his left hand behind Ju’s head and grabbed a handful of thick hair. Quentin planted his right foot and twisted hard to the left, pulling Ju’s hair in the same direction.
Ju flew away, partially from his own movement, partially from Quentin’s. Ju rolled once, then came up on his knees, head low, glowering eyes peeking out from beneath his eye socket ridges.
Quentin stood on his one good foot, blood pouring out of his mouth. He spat once. His right front tooth landed on the deck in a glob of blood. Damn, why was it always
that
tooth that got knocked out?
Quentin held up his left hand to show a bunch of Ju’s hair, the ends still clinging to a small chunk of flesh that had come out with it.
Ju’s eyes widened. His hands felt at the back of his head, his fingertips came away bloody.
“What’s the matter, Ju?” Quentin said. “They don’t teach you rich boys how to fight for real?”
Ju screamed and shot forward like a sprinter coming out of the blocks.
BLINK
Like his best moments on the football field, Quentin’s world slowed to a crawl. Ju, his face sheeted with blood, his eyes wide with rage. This had been the effect Quentin had wanted, for Ju to be out of control. In his fast-processing mind Quentin thought of the old folk saying
be careful what you wish for
.
Quentin felt the bones in his foot grinding against each other, felt the stub of his right front tooth stinging with each breath. He’d blasted Ju
hard
, yet the big running back kept coming.
Quentin had to use what Doc Patah had given him.
He dove forward, the two footballers smashing into each other like a head-on linebacker blitz without pads. As they collided, Quentin slid his right wrist across the left side of Ju’s neck.
The needles were set up almost like sand paper, a dozen or more of them packed closely together. A quarter-inch long, they drove deep into Ju’s skin and immediately began to dissolve. The dissolving was the important part, Doc Patah had said — anyone testing after the fight wouldn’t find needles, and would only discover the cheat if they were checking for that specific drug.
BLINK
Quentin flew backward, realizing that Ju’s arms were around his back, Ju’s shoulder in Quentin’s chest. Quentin reached over and grabbed Ju’s waist as he fell back, twisted to the right, throwing Ju off of him. They both landed hard on their sides. Ju let out a grunt of pain, as if he’d landed on something the wrong way.
Both men slowly stood.
Ju raged forward again, blood-smeared lips curled back from exposed teeth, eyes wide and wild. As he came in, Quentin saw Ju’s right hand drop.
An opening.
Ju seemed to stumble, just a bit. Had he slipped in blood? Was it the drug?
Quentin timed it perfectly. As Ju rushed in, head down, right hand at his chest instead of up by his cheek, Quentin bent on his good leg and hopped
forward
and
up
. Ju automatically lifted his head in reaction, just a bit, but it was exactly what Quentin had hoped for.
As Quentin flew through the air, he put his right hand out and drew it back, twisting his shoulders and hips, driving his left fist forward. The punch slid over Ju’s lowered right fist and hit the bigger man on the tip of the jaw.
Quentin felt a knuckle break, but he knew, he
knew
, that the punch had ended the fight.
Quentin landed on his broken foot and dropped, screaming in pain.
Ju stumbled once, then fell forward and landed face-first, not even bringing up his hands to block the fall. He hit, and stuck.
Ju Tweedy did not move.
• • •
QUENTIN BARNES LIMPED
down the corridor, his left arm over Ju Tweedy’s shoulder. Ju supported much of Quentin’s weight, so Quentin didn’t have to step on the broken toes. Blood still poured out of the cuts on Ju’s face, staining the corridor with a splattery red trail.
“So,” Ju said, “what did you throw to knock me out? I remember coming at you after you hip-tossed me, then nothing.”
Quentin nodded. “It was a Superman punch.”
Ju groaned, and not from his obvious physical pain. “Oh, for real? Are you sure?”
Quentin nodded.
“Damn,” Ju said. “That’s the kind of thing you use to knock out amateurs. How did you land that?”
“You got mad,” Quentin said. “You dropped your right hand, I came in over the top of it.”
“Man, that’s weird,” Ju said. “I always keep my guard up. I’m not bragging, either. I mean that’s something I always do no matter how tired I get.”
Quentin kept limping along, not saying anything. He’d used the needles, sure, but he’d won that fight fairly... hadn’t he? The drugs couldn’t have kicked in
that
fast. It had been only seconds.
They reached the training room and helped each other inside. Doc Patah was waiting for them.
He was a non-Human, and usually very hard to read, but something about his demeanor froze both Quentin and Ju in place.
“Look at you,” Doc Patah said. “Such idiocy, such risk of team assets. I wish I owned the Krakens myself, so I could legally vent you both.”
“Well you
don’t
own the Krakens,” Ju said. “So we need some fixin’ up.”
That heavy sigh from the Harrah doctor’s speakerfilm. “Fine. Which one of you will be first?”
Ju smiled and slapped Quentin’s right shoulder. Even that hurt.
“Q first,” Ju said. Oddly, his voice seemed louder than usual, prouder than usual. “He’s my team captain. I can wait.”
His face still a sheet of blood, Ju helped Quentin to the first rejuve tank.
He’s my captain.
And just like that, Quentin knew the ordeal of Ju Tweedy’s intentional fumbling was over. As ridiculous as it seemed, a basic street brawl had settled their differences.
It was Quentin’s team.
Period
.
The only question was, would Ju run hard enough for the Krakens to win their final two games?
GFL WEEK ELEVEN ROUNDUP
(Courtesy of Galaxy Sports Network)
• • •
With only two games remaining in the GFL’s 25th Anniversary season, a pair of teams are closing in on a Planet Division title. Themala (7-3) is peaking at just the right time, winning its sixth straight to move into a two-way tie for first with the Isis Ice Storm. Isis (7-3) knocked off a fellow first-place holder for the second week in a row, this time edging out Coranadillana (6-4) by a score of 27-24. The To Pirates (6-4) dropped to second thanks to a hard loss to the Wabash Wolfpack (6-4), who are still hungry to claim a playoff spot. The Yall Criminals (6-4) want a shot at that playoff berth as well, winning their third straight by topping the plummeting Mars Planets 17-13.
The top three in the Solar continue to rack up wins. New Rodina (9-1) remains in first, still just a single game ahead of Jupiter (8-2) and Neptune (8-2). With this week’s wins, all three of those teams mathematically locked up playoff berths.
The fourth and final Solar Division playoff spot is down to a race between the Bord Brigands (6-4) and the D’Kow War Dogs (5-5). The Brigands beat the ‘Dogs in Week Seven, which means for D’Kow to make the playoffs they have to win their last two while the Brigands lose their final pair.
In Solar relegation land, the Chillich Spider-Bears (1-9) are still alive despite a 14-10 loss to fellow cellar-dweller Vik Vanguard (2-8). The Jang Atom Smashers (3-7) picked the perfect time to come alive, landing a 35-0 knockout on the Sala Intrigue.
In the Planet Division, the Mars Planets (4-6) just need one more win or one more Ionath loss to stay in Tier One for another season. That looks most likely, as Ionath travels to Jupiter to face the 8-2 Jacks. Ionath must win that game
and
beat Mars in Week Thirteen
and
see the Planets lose next week’s game against the Hittoni Hullwalkers (5-5).
Deaths
No deaths reported this week.
Offensive Player of the Week
New Rodina quarterback
Rick Renaud
, who threw three touchdowns in a 18-for-26, 278-yard performance.
Defensive Player of the Week
Vik defensive tackle
Ar-Cham-Balt
, who had four solo tackles and eleven assists for the Vanguard.
PLANET DIVISION
7-3 Isis Ice Storm