Read The Starter Online

Authors: Scott Sigler

Tags: #Science Fiction

The Starter (63 page)

• • •

 

QUENTIN RAN OFF THE FIELD
to cheering teammates and choruses of
nice run!
or
nice hit!
or
great pass!
He still didn’t know if he could throw deep against Morelia or Xuchang, who would guard the Krakens number-one and number-two receivers, respectively, but from the first snap he’d known that if Luxembourg slowed down even a little, she couldn’t hang with Halawa. So, Quentin had
made
Luxembourg slow down.


Barnes!

Quentin’s eyes flashed to his helmet holo-screen before he realized it was a living voice, not his helmet speakers. He looked down at Hokor, expecting the coach to be a puffy furball of anger. Hokor’s fur looked smooth.

“Down here, Barnes!”

Quentin knelt. Hokor put a pedipalp on his shoulder. “Great call,” Hokor said. “If we can get some more punishment on their safety and free safety, slow them down, I think Halawa can keep getting open. You agree?”

Quentin nodded. “She can as long as Luxembourg is in woman-to-woman coverage. If they want to cover Halawa, they’ll have to switch to zone coverage. They do that, and I will carve them up.”

“Good, we’ll run more passes to Starcher, try to use his big, crazy body to wear them down.”

“No, Coach, it should be me. A couple of naked boots, I can get to them and put them down.”

Hokor waited while the crowd roared for the kickoff. Quentin didn’t have to look, he could tell by the level of the cheering that the Jacks had returned the ball to their own twenty, maybe their thirty.

“Barnes, that hit worked, but you’ve been hurt several times this year. You go head-hunting for a top-level safety and free safety, you’re asking for a major injury. You understand that?”

“We lose, we’re out,” Quentin said. “I’m willing to take that chance.”

Hokor stared, then nodded. “Well, then I guess we are going medieval on their posteriors. We’ll do it your way, Quentin.”

Hokor walked away. Quentin watched him go, marveling at the exchange — it was the first time, ever, that the coach had called him
Quentin
.

Quentin stood and watched the game. He’d missed a play. Second and three on Jupiter’s twenty-six. The Jacks broke the huddle. Quentin watched as Denver ran toward him, taking up her position at wide receiver not even five yards away from his spot on the sidelines. So strange to see her in copper, silver, and gold instead of the orange and the black. Stockbridge lined up to cover her woman-to-woman.

Denver’s eyestalks bent toward the Krakens sidelines, and she saw him. Her eyestalks quivered. “Quentin Barnes Quentin Barnes!”

“Hey, Denver, how you doing?”

“I love Jupiter!” she said. “Love lovelove! Thank you for trading me!”

Quentin hadn’t known how much guilt he’d been carrying until that moment, until those genuine words set him free.

Jacks quarterback Shriaz Zia started calling the signals.

“I’m glad, Denver.”

“Quentin Barnes Quentin
Barnes!
” she said, screaming now, her raspers dangling, her body shaking with excitement. “I play like you watch me watch me
watchme!

Zia took the snap as the two teams ripped into each other. Denver shot off the line like a bullet. The young receiver did a right-left-right step-cut that was so fast Quentin almost couldn’t track it, so fast that Stockbridge stumbled — and Denver was off to the races. The ball was in the air before she’d cleared fifteen yards. She caught it in full, blazing, stride at the fifty. Davenport and Perth, the Krakens strong safety and free safety, respectively, closed on her immediately. The home Jacks crowd roared like the sound of High One. Denver did her right-left-right cut a second time — Perth stumbled, and Denver was by her. Davenport reached out for the tackle. At that moment, Denver turned toward Davenport, lowering her copper helmet and
smashing
forward. Davenport stumbled backward, grabbing with tentacles, raspers, even her tail, but Denver had all the momentum and would not be stopped.

Denver regained her balance and sprinted into the end zone for a 74-yard touchdown.

“Damn,” Quentin said, wishing he had her back.

• • •

 

IT TURNED INTO
a shoot-out. Quentin managed two more sneaky runs that let him go head-to-head on the defensive backs, once with Luxembourg and once with Xuchang. That second hit on Luxembourg had felt great. He’d leveled her, put her out for two series. The tangle with Xuchang didn’t go as well. Quentin had hit her so hard it cracked her helmet, but when he tried to get up he felt a stabbing pain in his hip.

Doc Patah needled in to see if he could fix it, numbed it up some, but Quentin couldn’t run for crap. He spent the rest of the game handing off and doing what he was
supposed
to do, which was drop back in the pocket and look for receivers.

He found them.

He picked up another touchdown to Halawa against Luxembourg’s backup, then finally hit Hawick for a long strike when the Jacks switched to zone coverage.

Halawa wasn’t the only young Sklorno to have a big game.

Denver burned the Krakens for another long score, this one a 44-yard pass. No wonder she loved-loved-loved Jupiter. The Krakens just couldn’t cover her, not with Zia’s laser-accurate arm. Denver finished as the game’s MVP: 8 catches for 156 yards and two touchdowns.

Scarborough also produced a big play for the Jacks. The former Krakens standout receiver caught just two passes on the night — one for twelve yards, the other for a seventeen-yard touchdown.

Yes, it was a shootout, but the Krakens had more bullets. Quentin had time to throw. He found his rhythm, using his short-pattern passing to hit Starcher, Mezquitic, Kobayasho, Richfield, and Rebecca Montagne. By the time the game ended, Quentin had thrown for 312 yards, four touchdowns, and completed passes to nine receivers. Yassoud was one of those receivers — he seemed thrilled with his one catch for eight yards, and was happy to tell everyone on the sidelines about it in intricate, repetitive detail.

The Jacks finished the game with the ball, but were unable to score on their last drive. The Krakens “D” held until the clock ticked zero and the final score blazed bright for all to see.

Ionath Krakens 38, Jupiter Jacks 35.

After the game, Quentin limped out to the 50-yard line to shake hands. As he did, he looked up at the end zone’s holographic scoreboard, which was flashing results from around the league.

What he saw was almost as thrilling as his four touchdown passes — the Mars Planets had held the Hittoni Hullwalkers to just
ten points
... but had scored only nine themselves.

The Planets had lost. That loss made them 4-and-7.

The Krakens were 3-and-8.

If the Krakens beat the Planets in Week Thirteen, both teams would be 4-and-8, but the Krakens would win the tiebreaker.

It all came down to the final game of the season. The loser would be relegated, while the winner would get to stay at least one more season in Tier One.

GFL WEEK TWELVE ROUNDUP

(Courtesy of Galaxy Sports Network)

At least in the Solar Division, the playoff contenders are set. New Rodina (10-1) continues to roll, locking up a Solar Division title thanks to a 34-22 win over the Sala Intrigue (3-8). Neptune (9-2) finished off the playoff hopes of D’Kow, beating the War Dogs in a 24-21 thriller. That result finalizes Bord as the fourth seed in the Solar playoff, despite the Brigands losing 27-23 to the Alimum Armada (6-5). The only question in the Solar playoff picture is where will the Scarlet Fliers and the Jupiter Jacks play? Following a stunning 38-35 upset loss to Ionath (3-8), Jupiter (8-3) is a game behind Neptune but can still play the first round of the playoffs at home. Because the Jacks beat the Scarlet Fliers head-to-head, if both teams finish with the same record the Jacks will have the second seed and host the game. If the Jacks lose their final game against the Shorah Warlords (4-7) or if Neptune wins its final game against the Astronauts, the Scarlet Fliers will claim the second seed and host their arch rivals.

In the Planet Division things are not so clear. Isis (8-3) and Themala (8-3) both won to wrap up playoff berths. Isis pummeled the Dreadnaughts 31-0 in Week Four, meaning that the Ice Storm wins the division if it defeats the Hittoni Hullwalkers (6-5) next week. Themala faces the Yall Criminals (6-5). If Wabash (7-4) wins next week against the Lu Juggernauts (6-5), the Wolfpack is in. As we head into the final game, Lu, Coranadillana, Hittoni, Alimum, To and Yall all have a mathematical shot at the playoffs.

Chillich’s 24-13 loss to Shorah means that the Spider-Bears (1-10) will be relegated at season’s end.

Ionath (3-8) stayed alive thanks to their upset win over the Jacks, and thanks to Mars’ 10-9 loss to Hittoni. The Krakens and the Planets square off in the season’s final regular season game, with the loser heading back to Tier Two.

Deaths

Kin-Ja-Tan
, offensive right tackle for the Yall Criminals, on a clean hit by
Ryan Nossek
.

Offensive Player of the Week

Armada tight end
Brandon Rowe
, who caught seven passes for 112 yards and two touchdowns.

Defensive Player of the Week

Ryan Nossek
, defensive end for the Isis Ice Storm, who set a GFL record with five sacks in one game. Nossek also recorded a fatality.

WEEK THIRTEEN: MARS PLANETS at IONATH KRAKENS

PLANET DIVISION

8-3 x-Isis Ice Storm

8-3 x-Themala Dreadnaughts

7-4 Wabash Wolfpack

6-5 Alimum Armada

6-5 Coranadillana Cloud Killers

6-5 Hittoni Hullwalkers

6-5 Lu Juggernauts

6-5 To Pirates

6-5 Yall Criminals

4-7 Mars Planets

3-8 Ionath Krakens

SOLAR DIVISION

10-1 x-New Rodina Astronauts

9-2 x-Neptune Scarlet Fliers

8-3 x-Jupiter Jacks

6-5 Bord Brigands

5-6 D’Kow War Dogs

4-7 Bartel Water Bugs

4-7 Shorah Warlords

3-8 Jang Atom Smashers

3-8 Sala Intrigue

2-9 Vik Vanguard

1-10 Chillich Spider-Bears

(x = playoff berth clinched, y = division clinched)

TO AN OUTSIDE OBSERVER,
to someone ignorant of the culture of sports, the sight might have looked comical. A teenager — huge and strong, but a teenager nonetheless — surrounded by sentients from five races.

This teenager wore black armor, a black helmet with a bright orange splash at the forehead. A black jersey covered this armor, white-trimmed orange letters spelling out “KRAKENS” on the chest above a white-trimmed orange number “10.” The shoulders of this jersey proudly displayed the six-tentacled team logo.

The sentients surrounding him wore matching black armor, helmets, and black jerseys, their gear custom-fitted for different body styles. Some of these sentients were twice his age, a few even three times his age, yet they all hung on his every word. They followed him,
believed
in him, believed that he would lead them to victory. Or if victory could not be attained, he would leave his lifeless body on the field of failure.

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