THE ALL-PRO (51 page)

This was it. Take the offer and stay with his teammates, keep his heart pumping orange and black, or sign with another team and take the money.

“Gredok,” Quentin said. “I think that—”

Danny turned sharply. “Barnes! You need to let me handle this. I will—”

“Shut up,” Quentin said.

“What?”

“I said,
shut up
, Danny. You work for me, remember?” Quentin stared hard into the Dolphin’s black eyes, waited until Danny leaned back.

Quentin turned to face Gredok. “I accept.”

Danny’s legs extended, suddenly raising his 350-pound, 8-foot-long body into the air. His bejeweled dorsal fin brushed against the ceiling. His head angled down, showing eyes wide with rage. When he talked, it was a combination of Dolphin chitter and English. “No! I have worked too hard on this deal, Barnes!
Do not accept!
”

Quentin stood as well. He wasn’t some helpless orphan miner. He was a grown man. He was the team captain of a Tier One franchise.

Then it hit home — he wasn’t an
orphan
anymore. In fact, he’d
never
truly been one.

“Lundy, we’re
done
. I want to play for the Krakens. You will either facilitate the exchange and get your commission, or I will walk out of here and sign somewhere else, using my new money to hire lawyers to make sure you don’t get a single credit. The offer on the table is there because of your efforts, but
you
work for
me
and you will do what I tell you to do. So, do you want fifteen percent of a hundred and sixty-five million, or do you want a hundred percent of nothing?”

Quentin snapped out of it. Had
he
just said all of that? Said it in the voice he used on the football field, where he was always confident and in control?

He had.

Danny stared. His long, muscular Dolphin form shook with anger. Quentin waited. Gredok sat still and silent.

Danny’s shaking slowed, then stopped. He lowered himself back down to table-level. His metallic hands reached out and took the contract box.

“We’ll do what you want,” he said. “You’re right, Quentin. You’re the boss. It’s your career. But I am going on record here to say you are making a mistake. You are believing the words of a master manipulator.”

“Maybe,” Quentin said. “But you know what? This deal makes me rich beyond anything I could have imagined, and I get to win a championship with the team
I’ve
built. Money is a great thing, Lundy, but it isn’t the greatest thing.”

Danny pushed the box to the center of the table. “Everything is in order. No hidden clauses. The offer is as Gredok says.”

Quentin reached out his left hand and slid his thumb into the box’s hole. He felt the tickle of machinery scraping his skin, taking cells to read his DNA and verify his identity. The device also measured his heart rate, temperature and several other factors, entering them into an algorithm that would determine if Quentin was making this choice of his own free will.

The light above Quentin’s finger turned green -he was not being coerced.

Gredok leaned forward, extended his pedipalp, slid his furred finger into the other side of the box. More whirring, some buzzing — the light on his side turned green.

The contract box accessed the Intergalactic Business Database, verified their genetic makeup against records, then gave a low
BEEP
to indicate the transaction was complete.

Quentin Barnes was rich.

Quentin Barnes was a
Kraken
, now and forever.

Gredok withdrew his pedipalp. “Now that I have made you more wealthier than most of the sentients in your home city,
combined
, Barnes, I wonder if you could do me the tiniest favor.”

Quentin smiled, a smile he couldn’t stop. It was all over — he had a father, he had a team, he had a
family
.

“A favor? And what would that be, Gredok?”

“Gloria ...
Ogawa
,” the Quyth Leader said, not hiding the fact that he hated to say that name almost as much as he hated the woman who owned it. “I have not defeated her team since 2669. To defeat her in their stadium, destroy her undefeated season, it would erase
fifteen years
of frustration. Tell me, Barnes, tell me that you are the one who will finally defeat Wabash.”

Quentin reached out and ruffled the black fur on Gredok’s head.

“Just give me the ball, Greedy. Just give me the ball.”

Transcript from the “Galaxy’s Greatest Sports Show with Dan, Akbar, and Tarat the Smasher”

DAN:
And we’re back! Thanks again to our sponsor, Sayed Luxury Craft.

AKBAR:
You know, I met Manny Sayed once. Heck of a guy.

DAN:
You can say that again, lil’ buddy. Funny we should mention Sayed Luxury Craft right now, because their poster boy, Quentin Barnes, is headed into the biggest game of his career. His Krakens travel to the planet Fortress for a critical tilt with the undefeated Wabash Wolfpack.

TARAT:
You think this game is bigger for the Krakens than last year’s game against the Mars Planets? The loser of that one dropped to Tier Two, costing the franchise millions.

DAN:
Well, sure, Smasher, that was big, but this is the biggest game of Quentin’s career
this
season.

AKBAR:
That doesn’t even make any sense.

DAN:
You’re right, Akbar, sports drama doesn’t have to make sense to be dramatic and we’ve got
droves
of drama in this game. First, Wabash versus Ionath is a bitter rivalry that dates back decades. This is the first real chance the Krakens have had to beat the Wolfpack in fifteen years. Second, Wabash is on top of the Planet Division, but Ionath is tied for third and fighting for their first trip to the playoffs in nine seasons. If the Krakens win, they pull to within one game of first.

AKBAR:
Dan, who are you kidding? The Krakens are going to get demolished.

TARAT:
But the Krakens have five wins. They are a good team.

AKBAR:
Tarat, maybe they don’t teach math in the Quyth Concordia, because you certainly haven’t done yours. Sure, the Krakens have five wins, but the last three? Those came against teams with a combined record of
three
and
eighteen
.

DAN:
Ionath beat Isis and Yall, both five-and-two teams, both fighting for playoff spots.

AKBAR:
That was the first two weeks of the season and the Criminals were killing Ionath until Renaud got hurt. Since then, the Krakens have
barely
beaten Hittoni, Alimum and Lu. They lost to OS1, which has a losing record of three-and-four and to Coranadillana, which only has
two
wins. I’m telling you, the Krakens are not as good as their record.

TARAT:
A football team’s record speaks for itself, Akbar.

DAN:
I don’t know, Tarat, maybe Akbar has a point. The Krakens haven’t had a quality win since Week One.

TARAT:
Victories are quantitative, not qualitative.

AKBAR:
Woah! Maybe they
do
teach math in the Concordia.

TARAT:
It does not matter
how
you win, or
who
you beat, as long as you get a victory. If the Krakens get three more wins, they finish with eight and probably make the playoffs.

DAN:
P-p-playoffs? Did he say ...
playoffs
? This week the Krakens have undefeated defending GFL champion Wabash Wolfpack,
then
the six-and-one To Pirates,
then
D’Kow, which is winnable, but Ionath finishes with the red-hot Vik Vanguard. You think Ionath can win
three
of those four games?

AKBAR:
Not likely.

TARAT:
Dan, I am saying that
if
the Krakens can win three, they will make the playoffs. From there, anything can happen.

DAN:
So you’re picking the Krakens over the Wolfpack on Sunday?

TARAT:
Oh, absolutely not. The Wolfpack will crush Ionath.

AKBAR:
If there’s qualitative and quantitative, is there wishy-washy-tative?

TARAT:
Akbar, you are starting to make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

DAN:
Okay then! Akbar, help us all out and shush up for a bit while we go to the calls, okay?

AKBAR:
Uh ... yes, I’ll just sit here and be quiet.

TARAT:
Excellent decision.

DAN:
Line seven from the Withrit Colony, you’re on the Space.
Go!

CALLER:
All three of you idiots are wrong-wrong-wrong. The Krakens are going to win all four, finish with nine wins and take the Planet Division.

TARAT:
I think that is unlikely.

DAN:
What kind of drugs are they selling these days in Withrit? Because I want some. Line four from Earth you’re on the Space.
Go!

• • •

THE PLASTIC BUCKET CLONKED
onto the deck between Quentin and his father.

“Boom,” John Tweedy said. “The Puke-A-Tron Model B is ready for business. Now, with even more Wabash action!”

He pointed to the bucket’s latest sticker, this one showing a snarling, black, stylized animal head set against a backdrop of red — the logo of the Wabash Wolfpack.

“Thanks, John.”

“Don’t mention it, Q-ster. Hey there, Pa Barnes. How are ya?”

Cillian nodded politely. “I’m fine, thanks. John, you know my last name isn’t
Barnes
, right?”

John blinked a few times. “But you’re Quentin’s dad.”

“Yes, but Quentin’s mother remarried and that changed his last name. My last name is Carbonaro.”

John’s face wrinkled with confusion. “So, I should call you Pa Carbonaro?”

“How about you call me Cillian?”

“Pa Cillian?”

“Just
Cillian
.”

“How about I just call you
Pa
, then?”

“I’m not your dad, John.”

“Quentin’s not my brother, but he calls Ma
Ma
.”

Cillian sighed.

Quentin laughed and pushed his dad’s shoulder. “Just let him call you
Pa
. It will save you a lot of time.”

Cillian shrugged. “Fine, John. Just call me Pa.”

John smiled and nodded once.
I KNOW WORDS
flashed across his face. “What are you guys doing?”

“Studying,” Quentin said. “Dad is quizzing me on the Wolfpack players. It’s more fun than staring at the holotank.”

UNDEFEATED SCHMUNDEFEATED
scrolled across John’s face. “Okay, Q, I’ll leave you and Pa to it. Hey, Pa, watch out for the splashing, okay?”

John walked off.

Cillian picked up his messageboard and looked at the next name. “Right outside linebacker?”

“Ricky Craig,” Quentin said instantly. “Fifth-year pro, a Fortress native. Six-foot-eight, three-hundred thirty pounds. Great lateral movement. The Wolfpack’s second-leading tackler. Four sacks this season, two interceptions.”

Cillian nodded. “And his weaknesses?”

“Slow to turn and run with receivers in pass coverage. Susceptible to pump-fakes and play-action. He tends to have poor balance if he blitzes up the middle.”

“What does that mean for you?”

“It means I’ve got an extra bit of time if he comes in. I can juke him.”

Cillian lowered the messageboard. “That’s all correct. But I’m kind of curious — what exactly does
an extra bit of time
mean in your case?”

Quentin thought for a moment, trying to analyze something he normally did by feel alone. “I’d say ... that means about two-tenths of a second?”

“Two-
tenths?
You’re telling me that things happen so fast, you notice
two-tenths of a second
of extra reaction time?”

Quentin nodded.

“So you see this six-foot-eight monster coming and you think,
oh look, it’s Ricky Craig, I’ve got a fraction of a second to relax and have a beer
?”

Quentin laughed. “No, Dad, it’s not like that. Everything happens automatically. I memorize all of this stuff over and over again, then on the field it all just kind of happens instantly.”

Cillian leaned back and smiled. “You’re really amazing, you know that, Son?”

Quentin’s face felt hot. He looked away. “Thanks.” How could he react to that? What was he supposed to say when his father was so clearly
proud
of him?

Cillian seemed to sense Quentin’s discomfort. He picked up the plastic-lined bucket. “What’s this? And what did John mean by
watch out for the splashing
?”

“Uh ... I sometimes get a little sick on punch-out.”

His father raised his eyebrows and held the bucket higher, showing the size. “A
little
sick?”

“Okay, a
lot
sick. I kind of throw up every time. Maybe it’s genetic.”