The Starter

by Scott Sigler

  Forgiveness, I should add, that most of them did not receive.

  If you are looking for enemies, Commissioner Froese, may I respectfully suggest you shop elsewhere. The cost for dancing with me might be higher than you are prepared to pay.

  Sincerely,

  Gredok the Splithead

  * * *

  QUENTIN HAD ALREADY SEEN his first Ki Empire planet. That was fortunate, because on the planet Lu he would see the Juggernauts Stadium and nothing else.

  Only the Ki members of the Krakens were allowed to go down early. The rest of the team — Human, Sklorno, Quyth Warrior, HeavyG, even Doc Patah and the support staff — were not allowed off-ship before Sunday’s game. When Sunday came, they didn’t even use the team shuttle to descend. Instead, Gredok hired an unmarked freighter to take the players down a mere four hours before kickoff. Quentin saw the inside of the landing bay and the visitors’ locker room. As soon as he left the locker room, he’d see the stadium, play the game, do his press conference, then back on the freighter for the return to the Touchback.

  Gredok wasn’t taking any chances. He wanted the team isolated from Commissioner Froese and any investigators. If Froese wanted his people to talk to Ju, Gredok would make sure it was on the Touchback, and deny each and every meeting as long as possible. Gredok called it “laying low,” a technique practiced by criminals from time immemorial. The longer Gredok stalled the investigation, the better it was for everyone.

  In the Human locker room of Juggernauts Stadium, Quentin went through his ritual. He laid out his gear, but also watched the Human Krakens players welcome Ju to the team. Quentin and John had spread the story of the showdown between Gredok and Anna, how Anna had revealed Ju’s innocence. That, combined with Ju’s status as the running back the Krakens so desperately needed, had everyone brimming with excitement. Sure, Ju was still wanted for murder, but his innocence would be proven — the only variable was time.

  Ju was all smiles and charm, praising the organization, giving thanks, and proclaiming his innocence, but only when asked. He didn’t preach or push it on anyone. Everyone loved the man right off the bat — everyone but Yassoud.

  Yassoud simmered with anger, frustration, and failure. He’d had his chance. After five games of futility, he’d been replaced. Unless Ju Tweedy was hurt or killed, Yassoud’s running days with the Krakens were mostly over.

  John walked around the locker room like a peacock, strutting-proud that his little brother had joined the team. Now that they were on the same team, their sibling rivalry had taken a step back if not vanished altogether.

  Helmet in hand and already dressed for the game, John Tweedy saw Quentin and walked over. He didn’t smile so much as he beamed, glowed. “I’m not going to forget what you did, Q.”

  Quentin shrugged. “You’d have done the same for me.”

  John nodded. “Yeah, sure, but that doesn’t change the fact that you did it for me, did it for my family. And I want to show you something.”

  He reached into his helmet and pulled out a holo-cube, which he handed to Quentin. Quentin took the small piece of plastic and squeezed the sides.

  A hologram of Ma Tweedy flared to life. She was still hunched over, ears in her shoulder, eyes squinting so tight she might have been blind. She didn’t have the half-orange, half-black jersey anymore. She wore an orange Krakens away jersey with the number 50 — John’s number. Her ballcap was also Krakens’ orange, with the Ionath logo on the bill and a “48” on the brim — Ju’s new number.

  “That’s my jersey,” John said, his smile still blazing and wide, MOM ALWAYS DID LOVE ME BEST scrolling across his face. “She said she was so proud of me for saving Ju. My jersey, Q! Not his, mine.”

  “Congrats,” Quentin said, and went to hand the cube back.

  “No, it’s for you,” John said. “Hit play.”

  Quentin held the cube in his lap and hit the play icon. The image of Ma Tweedy moved, and her voice came out from the holocube’s small surface.

  “Quentin! Jonathan tells me that you saved my boy Julius. Thank you, Quentin. From now on, you’re family. You always have a home with Ma Tweedy, honey. And don’t forget to slide.”

  The playback stopped. Quentin laughed.

  “Ma likes you,” John said.

  Quentin felt a lump in his throat. This woman that he’d never met had called him honey, had called him family, the kind of words a mother would use.

  John gave Quentin’s hair a quick ruffle, then walked off toward Ju.

  Quentin put the holo-cube in his locker, then he looked at Ju, who was laughing and joking with his brother and with the rest of the Krakens. Quentin watched Ju’s charm — genuine, or fake? Quentin remembered the man in that life-and-death situation only a few days earlier, remembered Ju looking down the barrel of a gun and negotiating for a better deal. Quentin would have been grateful beyond measure just to play ball again, to be on a team again. Ju Tweedy? He seemed far more concerned about money.

  Well, whatever Ju’s motivations, Doc Patah had done his magic and repaired the running back’s bullet wound. Ju Tweedy was ready to play. And yet, for all of Ju’s skill, he had never played a down of Tier One football. This was his coming-out party. The galaxy would be watching, waiting to see if Ju could dominate at the highest level. Ju would be ready to show them that he could.

  Quentin tuned Ju out, tuned everyone out. He started his ritual, putting the gear on one piece a time, mentally playing through the names, stats, tendencies, and history of every player on the Lu Juggernauts.

  Now he had an offensive line.

  Now he had a running back.

  The league was about to see just how good the Ionath Krakens could be.

  • • •

  QUENTIN’S HAND HURT. Hurt in the best way possible.

  It hurt because every time he handed off to Ju Tweedy, the meaty running back snapped his arms down so hard it nearly broke Quentin’s fingers. Ju ran full-speed toward the line, every play, every moment. He ripped his arms down to take the ball like it was some kind of enemy, like it was a threat to Ma Tweedy herself.

  When Ju hit that line or went through a hole, High One help the first Lu Juggernauts defensive player that stepped up to stop him. When Ju dipped his battering-ram of a head, lowered his huge shoulders and slammed into that hapless soul clad in Juggernauts’ steel-blue and gold, Quentin could almost see shockwaves.

  For once, Quentin wasn’t covered in stains from the field’s plants. In this case, those plants were a coarse, tan grass, light enough to make the black lines and yard markers really pop in the afternoon sun. Quentin wasn’t dirty, because the Krakens just kept running the ball. That constant, punishing running style started to wear the Juggernauts down. Ju had twenty-two yards on seven carries in the first quarter, and another thirty-five yards on eight tries in the second quarter, including a ten-yard touchdown run.

  In the second half, that running game made the linebackers watch for Ju Tweedy, watch him every play. Quentin gave a ball-fake, those linebackers froze, waiting to see if they had to tackle the Human wrecking ball. That reaction, that freeze, gave Quentin another second, even two seconds of time to throw. Combined with the excellent protection of Michael Kimberlin and the offensive line, for the first time that season Quentin had time to drop back, step up, and evaluate all of his receivers to find the open one.

  That meant completed passes, and a lot of them. He hit Crazy George Starcher six times for eighty-eight yards and a touchdown. Hawick also had a TD, part of her five catches for an even hundred yards. The best part of the game for Quentin? One completion to Halawa — which just happened to be for a 36-yard touchdown.

  The Krakens defense didn’t play great, but they did enough for the win. Running off the field to the violent, drum-line-like clacks of the mostly-Ki fans, the Krakens entered the locker room with a 28-21 win, a record of 2-and-4, and a new sense of optimism that permeated every ounce of their collective being.

  • • •


  THE LOCKER ROOM felt electric.

  Things had felt good when the Krakens beat the Shorah Warlords in Week Three, but that had been more relief than anything else. Relief that they would not go the year without a win. This? This was different.

  It was different because now they had a running game. Ju Tweedy finished the game with 103 yards on 28 carries. His punishing presence demanded defensive attention, giving Quentin more time to throw the ball. As a result, Quentin enjoyed his best game in Tier One: 15-of-20 for 235 yards and three touchdowns. With a healthy offensive line, a running game that kept the defense on its heels, three excellent receivers, and a quarterback that wasn’t half bad, Ionath had suddenly become very, very dangerous.

  The Krakens players surrounded Ju, filling the central locker room with shouts, clacks, grunts, and laughter. The team was still in last place at 2-and-4, but were just a half-game behind the Yall Criminals. Six games left in the season. If they won half of those, the possibility of staying in Tier One seemed very real.

  Players congratulated Ju, welcomed him to the team all over again, happy to give him a slap on the shoulder pads, a handshake, a friendly push. He was the final piece of the offensive puzzle and everyone knew it.

  Everyone; except Yassoud Murphy.

  Yassoud looked at the celebration. The bearded man wore his emotions on his sleeve, and in that moment it was plain that he wanted to be Ju Tweedy so bad it might as well have been a holo-sign floating above his head. Yassoud looked down and shuffled into the Human locker room.

  John Tweedy stood at the edge of the central locker room, leaning his back against a wall, his helmet dangling from his fingers by its facemask. His sweaty, clumpy hair stood up in all directions. A steady rivulet of blood drained from his broken nose, out of his left nostril at an angle that curled just past the left corner of his mouth, down his chin to drip-drip-drip on his already-stained jersey. He hadn’t bothered to stop the bleeding. Quentin wasn’t sure if John even knew he was bleeding.

  Quentin walked up to him, raised his fist and brought it down on John’s shoulder pads.

  “Uncle Johnny, what’s up? Didn’t you get the memo?”

  “What memo?” John said quietly.

  “The one that said Krakens win. Because we did win, you know.”

  John looked at Quentin and forced a weak smile. “Yeah, we won. That’s good, I’ve just got other things on my mind.”

  John looked back to the circle of players still celebrating with Ju.

  Quentin wasn’t sure what to say. John had put in a monster of a game — five solo tackles, four more assists, a sack and an interception. He should have been dancing on benches and offending people with creative forehead tattoos.

  “John, what’s the matter? You were all fired up for your brother before, and we won. So why aren’t you happy?”

  John shrugged. “I am. It’s just... well, Ju is being a good boy now because he just got here. We had to go get him and all, no choice there, but...”

  “But what?”

  John wiped the back of his left hand across his broken nose, saw the blood smearing his knuckles. He grunted with mild surprise, then looked at Quentin, blood still smeared across his nose, lip, and cheek.

  “Just that a tiger can’t change its spots,” he said. “I love my brother, but he’s a real jackass. I just hope he doesn’t show his true colors until after the season.”

  John walked to the Human locker room, leaving Quentin to stare at the Ju Tweedy Fan Club and wonder how John could be so jealous of his brother that he didn’t appreciate a hard-won victory.

  GFL WEEK SEVEN ROUNDUP

  (Courtesy of Galaxy Sports Network)

  A last-second field goal by kicker Howard Dinatale gave New Rodina (5-1) a 35-34 win over the Bartel Water Bugs (2-4), keeping the Astronauts tied for first place in the Solar with the Bord Brigands. The Brigands outlasted the D’Kow War Dogs (4-3) in a 17-15 nail-biter. This turn of events sets up a crucial first-place showdown next week, as the Brigands host the Astronauts.

  In the Planet Division, the To Pirates stopped their two-game skid with a 54-0 devastation of the Chillich Spider-Bears (0-6). The win moved the Pirates back into first thanks to the Ice Storm (4-2) dropping 24-17 to the Wabash Wolfpack. Isis and Wabash are now tied for second with the Mars Planets, who had a bye.

  Deaths

  No deaths reported this week.

  Offensive Player of the Week

  Ionath quarterback Quentin Barnes, who went 15-of-20 for 235 yards and three touchdowns.

  Defensive Player of the Week

  To Pirates linebacker Richard Damge, who had four solo tackles, five assists, a sack and and a fumble recovery against Chillich.

  WEEK EIGHT: IONATH KRAKENS at ALIMUM ARMADA

  PLANET DIVISION

  5-2 To Pirates

  4-2 Isis Ice Storm

  4-2 Wabash Wolfpack

  4-2 Mars Planets (bye)

  3-3 Alimum Armada

  3-3 Coranadillana Cloud Killers

  3-3 Hittoni Hullwalkers

  3-3 Lu Juggernauts

  3-3 Themala Dreadnaughts (bye)

  3-4 Yall Criminals

  2-4 Ionath Krakens

  SOLAR DIVISION

  5-1 New Rodina Astronauts

  5-1 Bord Brigands

  4-2 Neptune Scarlet Fliers (bye)

  4-2 Jupiter Jacks

  4-3 D’Kow War Dogs

  3-4 Sala Intrigue

  2-4 Shorah Warlords

  2-4 Bartel Water Bugs

  1-5 Jang Atom Smashers (bye)

  1-5 Vik Vanguard

  0-6 Chillich Spider-Bears

  QUENTIN SURVEYED the holographic teams. His computer-generated Krakens offensive line squared up against the computer-generated Alimum Armada defense. The Armada had to have the ugliest, corniest uniforms in the GFL. Navy blue with three parallel coils of gold braid stitched around the sleeves. Thin, turquoise numbers trimmed in equal widths of green, royal blue, and white, finished off with more gold braid. White helmets carried the Armada logo on each side: a blue and green anchor trimmed in black, set in a white circle surrounded with a turquoise circle of flame. The uniforms were supposed to resemble sailor outfits from some long-lost Earth military. Yet another Sklorno misinterpretation of the history of the birthplace of football.

  The holographic stadium painted the picture of a football-crazed environment. Alimum’s dark-green-lined turquoise turf was much-loved and much-hated throughout the league. The mostly turquoise-clad crowd waved white flags decorated with the Armada’s anchor logo. Past the goalpost, Quentin could see a crysteel-encased end zone packed with madly jumping balls of black fur — male Sklorno, also known as “bedbugs.” Watching the female Sklorno play football on the field aroused the males to the point where they had no self-control and had to be segregated from the females.

  The holographic defensive line and linebackers wore those hideous Armada uniforms, but the cornerbacks were real Sklorno that wore Krakens practice blacks.

  Real receivers in practice whites complemented Quentin’s holographic offensive line. On the left, Milford lined up wide, covered by cornerback Perth. Halawa was wide right, squaring off against her twin sister, the cornerback Wahiawa.

  “Hut-hut.”

  Quentin slapped the ball in his hands and dropped back five steps. Milford and Halawa shot down their respective sidelines, well covered by the corners. Quentin paused a second, then launched a long, arcing pass. The holographic Alimum crowd roared as the ball spiraled downfield. Halawa went up for the catch. Wahiawa jumped as well, but she was just a fraction of a second behind and she knew it — her tentacles ripped down on Halawa’s in a blatant case of pass interference. Despite the rough handling, Halawa fought a single tentacle free. Nearly horizontal, falling back the turf with three hundred pounds of defensive back pulling her down, Halawa hauled in the pass one-tentacled before she and her sister smashed into the ground.

  Quentin sucked in a quick hiss of air and couldn’t supp
ress a giggle that made him sound like a little boy hiding in a grown man’s body. Damn, Halawa’s potential seemed limitless.

  The clapping of a pair of Human hands cut through the computer-generated crowd. Quentin turned to see a smiling, clapping Ju Tweedy, dressed in street clothes and walking into the VR room.

  “Heck of a catch,” Ju said. “Heck of a catch.”

  “Simulation off,” Quentin said. The illusion of Alimum Stadium flickered, then vanished. “Hey there, Ju.”

  “They told me you’d be here, but I didn’t believe them. I mean, we just had practice as a team, and you’re in here for more?”

  “That’s right,” Quentin said. “That’s how we get better. I’d like to see you join us.”

  Ju laughed. “Practice? What are we talkin’ about, man... practice? Not a game, not a game... we talkin’ about practice? I save it for the games, Q.”

  Quentin didn’t like that attitude, but nodded anyway. After Ju’s performance against the Juggernauts, Quentin was willing to go with whatever the man said. “Fair enough. Then what are you doing here?”

  “I was hoping to have a word with you. In private.” Ju reached into his pockets and pulled out two cans of Miller lager. “My brother tells me this is your favorite?”

  Quentin smiled. “Yeah, cool. Ladies, practice is over. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Milford and Perth shot out of the room, almost running Ju over. Halawa and Wahiawa always waited for each other, so they were a step behind.

  “Halawa,” Quentin said, stopping the sisters in their tracks. “That kind of effort is what I want to see. Keep it up, and there’s a bigger role for you to play.”

  She shivered, just once, then turned and ran out of the VR room with her sister right behind. As soon as she left, Quentin realized he’d done that only in part to motivate Halawa. He’d also done it to impress Ju Tweedy.

  Ju watched the sisters go, then tossed Quentin a beer.

  “Thanks.” Quentin popped the mag-can’s top. “So, what’s up?”