by Scott Sigler
The Mad Ju bowled him over, high-stepped on by and was suddenly in the defensive backfield. Matsumoto, the free safety, rushed in and dove at Ju’s legs. Ju was the league’s biggest running back and a total bruiser, but what made him special was his quick feet and his crazy athleticism — he hurdled the diving Matsumoto, who grabbed nothing but air and got a facemask full of Iomatt for her troubles.
The safety, Parbhani, came in fast. Instead of going low, she went high. Big mistake. Ju lowered a shoulder and hit her hard. She bounced off him like a rock thrown against a boulder.
The two cornerbacks gave chase, but they were being harried by Hawick and Milford and couldn’t make a straight line to Ju. By the time they freed themselves from the receivers’ downfield blocks, Ju had slowed to a walk at the 5. He strolled into the end zone as casual as you please.
The Krakens first play from scrimmage, a 65-yard touchdown run for Ju Tweedy.
Quentin knelt and plucked some of the circular Iomatt leaves. He sniffed deeply, inhaling the cinnamon scent, then tossed the leaves aside and ran to the sideline.
• • •
THE MARS PLANETS WERE just too beat-up to make a game of it. They had no answer for Ju Tweedy. The Mad Ju ran wild, scoring a second time on a 44-yard run and finishing the day with 161 yards. The trade for Michael Kimberlin had been critical, but after watching Ju play — for real — for two full games, Quentin knew the words he had spoken to Gredok back on Orbital Station One were no lie: Ju Tweedy was even better than Mitchell “The Machine” Fayed.
Up 24-10, Quentin stood on the sidelines and watched his defense try to shut down the Planets’ last-ditch efforts. With just 42 seconds to play, the Planets were on Ionath’s 17-yard line. No timeouts, they had to score, get the onside kick, and score again to tie it.
Loki Nightbreed, the Planets quarterback, brought his team to the line. The Planets still had a very real chance, and they weren’t giving up. Loki faced an end zone full of fans madly waving orange-and-black flags. In two full seasons, Quentin had never heard such noise.
He saw Loki cup his hands to his mouth, shout down the line of scrimmage. An audible.
Quentin turned to face the crowd and started waving his outstretched arms, palms up, the reverse of someone imitating a flapping bird.
“Come on!” he screamed. “Louder!”
He had never before interacted directly with the stadium crowd. Perhaps not until that moment had he realized how 185,000 spectators could react to him, as if he were a conductor of the galaxy’s largest and most raucous symphony. As loud as the crowd had been, it instantly raged even louder. The fans knew that at that moment they were more than spectators — they were part of the game.
His teammates on the sidelines took up his efforts, waving to the crowd, urging them to ear-splitting levels.
Quentin turned back to watch the action. As a quarterback, he knew that stadium noise could wreak havoc with audibles. Loki actually looked up at the stands, for just a second, first left, then right, as if he didn’t quite believe it.
Everything was happening so fast, all in the span of a few seconds. The play clock ticked down to seven, six — if Loki didn’t run the play soon he’d be called for delay of game. Quentin hoped John Tweedy and company saw what he saw, saw the confusion. John did — he walked forward from his middle linebacker position to stand almost at the line of scrimmage, right between Mai-An-Ihkole and Mum-O-Killowe. John was showing blitz.
Loki looked at John, then tried screaming down the line again for a second audible. The crowd sensed his desperation like a shark smelling blood. The sound grew so overwhelming, so hurtful that Quentin instinctively put his hands to his ears.
Mars Planets players looked at Loki, the quick snap-glances of confusion. Loki looked up at the play clock.
Three... two...
The ball snapped and the lines erupted. Loki turned to hand off to running back Kirk Bastek, but Bastek wasn’t looking — he thought it was a pass and was already running a route. Loki reached out with the ball. It hit Bastek in the arm, then dropped free. The ball hit the blue turf and bounced, just once, rising up in the air where Loki snatched it again. The quarterback stopped and turned, looking to make something happen. He didn’t get the chance.
John Tweedy raged through the line, tilted so far forward he was damn near horizontal, big legs driving, big arms pumping. Just as Loki turned to look downfield, John launched himself. The orange flash of his helmet hit right under Loki’s chin. Quentin winced at the hit’s violence — Loki’s head snapped back and his feet came right off the ground. The ball flew out of Loki’s hands, but John continued through the hit. His big arms wrapped around Loki’s back, big arms that squeezed even as all of John’s weight drove the enemy into the ground. When they landed, both sets of feet were in the air.
The ball hit the ground again. The stadium literally shook from the noise, a tremor of possibilities. Players reacted, diving for the squirting pigskin. Quentin thought he saw Mum-O-Killowe dive on it, but the defensive tackle vanished beneath a savage pile of black and orange, white and blue.
Whistles blew, barely audible over the crowd’s insane cacophony. Quentin held his breath. He felt someone grab his jersey — Yassoud, staring out at the field and all but hanging on Quentin’s shoulder, his eyes bright with hope, his smile blazing in the afternoon sun.
Yassoud yanked Quentin left and right as they both watched the pileup. Zebes dove in. Players pulled each other off the pile.
Pushing.
Shoving.
Whistles.
One of the Harrah refs dove into the pile, slithering between larger, armored sentients. Only the ref’s tail remained visible for a second, then he wiggled out and flew into the air.
He faced the other direction and pointed one mouth-flap.
Krakens’ ball.
Quentin screamed and pulled at Yassoud’s jersey, both of their feet dancing like little kids’ at Giving Day. The sideline erupted with yelling, laughing, and roaring Krakens players and staff.
“Barnes!”
Hokor in his heads-up.
“Barnes, stop grab-assing and get out there. Finish this.”
Quentin kept laughing as he ran onto the field, pulling his helmet on, his offense following him out. They huddled, then broke the huddle and lined up. Quentin knelt behind Bud-O-Shwek. Rebecca Montagne was just a foot to Quentin’s right, Ju Tweedy just a foot to his left.
The victory formation.
“Hut!”
The ball slapped into his hands. He clutched it tight, tucking it in both arms as if he were running right up the middle. No way he’d drop the ball now. He backed up two steps as the offensive and defensive lines half-heartedly pushed against each other.
Rebecca Montagne stood on his left, eyes alert, still ready to trade blows with anyone who came after her quarterback. The right sleeve of her jersey had been torn off sometime late in the second quarter, leaving chipped, scratched, black shoulder armor exposed to the sunlight. Dried blood caked the right side of her neck, the result of a hit that had somehow torn her ear.
Ju Tweedy stood on Quentin’s right, standing up straight, hands at his side, his attitude arrogantly inviting in anyone who wanted one last tangle.
No one did.
Ball still clutched tight, Quentin Barnes knelt and touched his left knee to the blessed blue turf.
Whistles blew, zebes flew in. Both teams stood and started exchanging shoulder-pad slaps, congratulations, and condolences even as the clock ticked down. The 185,000-strong capacity crowd started chanting off the final seconds.
Pride filled his heart. He kept the ball tight in his right hand as he reached out and grabbed Rebecca’s helmet with his left, pulling her in for a quick head-butt.
“Hey!” she said.
“We did it,” Quentin said. “Good game, Becca.”
She smiled, then gave him a quick head-butt back. He laughed, feeling on top of the world, feeling like nothing could touch him. Bi
g arms wrapped around his shoulders and lifted him.
“Congratulations!” Michael Kimberlin’s voice. “You saved me from an insufferable season of Tier Two!”
A final, crushing roar from the crowd told him that the clock had ticked down to zero. The Ionath Krakens had beaten the odds... they had stayed in Tier One.
More hands, more tentacles, more congratulations. The Krakens sideline emptied, players rushing out to the middle of the field as if they had just won the Galaxy Bowl. Quentin took more hits from his own teammates than he had during the entire game against the Mars Planets.
Quentin laughed, took the slaps to the head, the shoulder nudges, the chest bumps, took them all and smiled. He had a whole off-season to recover from any damage. An off-season that he could spend training, practicing, and — most importantly — hunting for his family.
He found each member of the team, even those who hadn’t played. He thanked and congratulated them individually. The last sentient he came to was the shortest of them all — Ionath’s diminutive coach.
Hokor’s cornea blazed bright yellow, the color of excitement, of happiness.
“Barnes! Get down here!”
Quentin knelt, seeing that Hokor had, for once, lost the headset. He still wore his tiny team hat. His fur looked smooth and glossy, like he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Barnes! Great game. We live to fight another day.”
“Thanks, Coach. I can’t describe how good this feels.”
“As good as getting promoted to Tier One?”
Quentin shook his head. “Even better. This is... I can’t even describe it. Everyone wrote us off.”
“And we proved them wrong,” Hokor said. He put both pedipalps on Quentin’s shoulder pads. “And if you think this feeling is amazing, Quentin, wait until you raise that Galaxy Bowl trophy high.”
Quentin’s eyes widened. He felt a rush of adrenaline and a tingle in his stomach. His goal had always been the title. Because of the way the Krakens had played in the last two games, he now dared to believe that it could actually happen.
“Coach, you really think we can?”
Hokor nodded in that weird, no-neck way the Quyth nodded. “We’ve got all the tools. We need to get better, much better, and we need to do something about our defense, but we can win it all with the team we have right now. That is, if we have a quarterback that can lead us there.”
Quentin laughed, reached out, and ruffled up Hokor’s fur. “Just gimme the ball, Coach. Just gimme the ball.”
Quentin stood and walked away from his celebrating teammates. He found the few Mars Planets players left on the field and wished each one of them well in Tier Two. Those players had a hard road in front of them, a road of two seasons back-to-back, a road Quentin and his Krakens understood far too well.
With that done, Quentin ran off the field, to the retainer wall that held back the crowd. He ran along that wall, reaching up to slap hands, pedipalps, and tentacles of the orange- and black-clad fans reaching down. As he ran, he noticed that Ju Tweedy was behind him, doing the same, with other Krakens joining the train. The crowd went wild at the recognition.
He circled the entire stadium, then started walking to the tunnel that led to the locker room. The crowd continued to cheer and roar — fifteen minutes after the clock ticked zero, and they were all still here, celebrating a moment of pride for Ionath City.
As Quentin walked into the end zone, the crowd’s roar picked up, reaching a volume almost as intense as what came before the opening kickoff. He stopped and turned, wondering what they were cheering at. He looked up at the big holoscreen in the field’s opposite end zone, and saw a huge image of himself: wide smile, bruised face, sweat-matted hair sticking out in all directions. Why was the on-field camera showing that?
And then it registered — the crowd was cheering for him.
One hundred and eighty-five thousand sentients, all raising their voices in a chorus of praise, of acceptance, of thanks for a strong finish, for making them proud of their team, of their city, of themselves.
Quentin Barnes, the dirty, orphan miner from Micovi, the teenager who only a few months ago had never met an alien in person, raised his battered helmet in salute.
He would be back.
The Krakens would be back.
And the galaxy would know his name.
Because the Ionath Krakens were on a collision course with a GFL Championship, and the only variable was time.
GFL WEEK THIRTEEN ROUNDUP
(Courtesy of Galaxy Sports Network)
Themala won 21-7 over the Yall Criminals (6-6) to complete an amazing turnaround. The Dreadnaughts started the season at 1-3, then won their next eight games to take the Planet Division title. Wabash’s 20-18 win over the Lu Juggernauts (6-6) gave the Wolfpack (8-4) the second seed in the playoffs, while Alimum won 24-21 over the Pirates to claim the fourth seed.
New Rodina finished with a 38-17 win over fellow playoff team Neptune (9-3). Jupiter (9-3) grabbed the second Solar seed, and a home playoff win thanks to a 21-20 thriller over the Shorah Warlords (4-8). Bord (7-5) grabbed the final playoff spot in the Solar by topping the Atom Smashers 35-10.
Deaths:
No deaths reported this week.
Offensive Player of the Week:
Ju Tweedy, running back for the Ionath Krakens, who gained 161 yards and 2 touchdowns on 23 carries.
Defensive Player of the Week:
John Tweedy, linebacker for the Ionath Krakens, who had six solo tackles and caused the fumble that ended the game against the Mars Planets.
BOOK THREE:
POST SEASON
FINAL STANDINGS
PLANET DIVISION
9-3 y-Themala Dreadnaughts
8-4 x-Wabash Wolfpack
8-4 x-Isis Ice Storm
7-5 x-Alimum Armada
7-5 Hittoni Hullwalkers
6-6 Lu Juggernauts
6-6 To Pirates
6-6 Yall Criminals
6-6 Coranadillana Cloud Killers
4-8 Ionath Krakens
4-8 Mars Planets (relegated, via tiebreaker
First Tiebreaker: head-to-head Wolfpack beat the Ice Storm, giving Wolfpack the #2 seed.
Armada beat Hullwalkers, giving Armada the #4 seed.
SOLAR DIVISION
11-1 y-New Rodina Astronauts
9-3 x-Jupiter Jacks
9-3 x-Neptune Scarlet Fliers
7-5 x-Bord Brigands
6-6 D’Kow War Dogs
5-7 Bartel Water Bugs
4-8 Shorah Warlords
4-8 Sala Intrigue
3-9 Jang Atom Smashers
2-10 Vik Vanguard
1-11 Chillich Spider-Bears (relegated)
First Tiebreaker: head-to-head Jacks beat Scarlet Fliers, giving Jacks the #2 seed.
(x = playoff berth clinched, y = division clinched)
From the “Galaxy’s Greatest Sports Show with Dan & Akbar, & Tarat the Smasher”
DAN: And we’re back. Thanks again to our sponsor Galactic Pictures, who proudly present Øverlord Doom: 2øø2, Part Three, the new movie starring Patuth the Muscular and Gloriana Wanganeen.
AKBAR: I saw it at a screening, Dan, and I have to say it’s even better than Part One and Part Two.
TARAT: I can’t wait to see it.
DAN: And I as well, Tarat, but we’re here to talk about the end of the regular season and a very sad moment for a pair of teams.
TARAT: If you’re a professional football player on one of these teams, Dan, this is a really horrible time. I can’t describe how terrible it feels. All of these teams and players worked so hard during the season, but a pair of franchises are heading back to Tier Two.
AKBAR: One of those teams was no surprise. The Chillich Spider-Bears had a very difficult year, winning just a single game to finish one and eleven. They finished last in the Solar Division, so relegation drags them back down like a sand-pitter takes its prey.
DAN: It just seemed things were stacked again
st the Spider-Bears this year, guys. Injuries, deaths — it’s hard enough to make it as a newly promoted team without losing all those starters.
TARAT: Overcoming injuries and deaths is part of the game, Dan.
DAN: I know that, Smasher, but you have to feel for those guys a little bit.
AKBAR: Well I can tell you one Solar Division team that is happy the Spider-Bears had injuries, and that’s the Vik Vanguard. Just two wins this season, and they get to stay in Tier One. They really have to get their linebacker situation figured out or they could get relegated next year.
DAN: And speaking of staying in Tier One, I think we have to give the big GGSS salute to the Ionath Krakens for their late-season run.
AKBAR: I couldn’t agree more, Dan. An amazing turnaround. They win their last two games to finish with four wins, including a victory over defending champion Jupiter? Astonishing. The final win, of course, came against the Mars Planets. The Planets and Krakens both finished four-and-eight, but the Krakens win the head-to-head tiebreaker, so bye-bye Planets.
DAN: Smasher, you were once a team captain when Mars was sent down. How did that feel?
TARAT: I was with the Planets when they were relegated in 2677. It’s going to be a sad time on Mars, Dan. That’s the smallest market of any upper-tier team. Amazing fan support, but it’s a close-knit community and there will be great anguish and despair. I will say that they deserved to get relegated. They started out the season at four and two, then lost their last six games.
AKBAR: A galaxy-famous choke, for sure.
DAN: So the Krakens live to fight another season in T1. What do you think, guys, can they stay alive next year as well?