THE ALL-PRO (67 page)

He had posted his best season ever. His throwing, his running, his team management, his leadership. He’d played through pain, through injuries. He’d pushed aside personal loss, the likes of which he’d never known and led his team into the playoffs. All of these things should have been enough for him. Such victories should have been their own reward.

But he wanted more.

He finally had to admit it to himself — he wanted
recognition
.

When he came to Ionath he hadn’t thought money mattered. He’d been wrong. Next season, he would have more money than he could ever spend, yet he was bitter he’d been cheated out of an even greater sum. Now he knew why. He still didn’t care about
money
, but he did care about what money
represented
 — money was a way of keeping score. The best players in the game made the most money.
That
was why his need for more had grown and
that
was why he couldn’t be happy for Becca.

Quentin wanted recognition. He wanted
respect
.

How petty.

High One had blessed him with the rarest of lives. He had challenges, to be sure. He had to go through life without a family. He’d been tested over and over again, but in overcoming those tests he found himself here on Ionath. Privileged. Cherished by millions. Even
worshiped
by millions more. Why did he feel petty about the awards of another?

He didn’t know why. He just knew that he did.

“It’s fantastic, Becca,” he said, because those were the words he needed to say whether he felt them or not. Just because the sports media thought Condor Adrienne was a better quarterback didn’t mean Becca hadn’t earned her honor. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she said. Her eyes showed that she didn’t believe him. She also wanted something more. Quentin could see that. Did she need for him to go crazy like John? To hoot and holler and sing her praises? Well, that wasn’t his way.

“It’s an honor for the team,” Quentin said. “You played hard. No question. Enjoy the moment. I’m going to the VR room to go practice routes.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” he said, then realized he’d said it a little too loud. Her eyes widened, briefly, then she looked away. Why couldn’t she just enjoy this? Why did she need his approval? “I’m doing deep-routes with Halawa, Hawick and Milford, so we don’t need you. You celebrate. You’ve earned it. See you later.”

He turned and walked out of the locker room. He felt her eyes following him. Her sad, needful eyes.

From
The Ionath City Gazette

by
toyat the inquisitive

NEW YORK CITY, EARTH, PLANETARY UNION — Another regular season has passed into the history books and the road to Yall has begun.

The Planet Division features number one seeded Wabash Wolfpack. The defending Galaxy Bowl champions have home-field advantage for the first two rounds. The Pack finished 10-2 to win the division title and will host Ionath (8-4) in the opening round. The two teams met back in Week Nine when the visiting Krakens upset the then-undefeated Wolfpack by a score of 28-24. Despite that outcome, Wabash is favored by six points.

In the second Planet Division game, the To Pirates (10-2) host Themala (9-3). If Wabash defeats Ionath, the Wolfpack will host the winner of To/Themala. If Ionath wins, the Krakens will travel to face the winner of To/Themala.

In the Solar, division champion Neptune (10-2) plays host to Bartel (7-5). Bartel will be playing without safety Alpharetta, who was suspended for one game following her illegal hit that caused the death of Bord running back Robert Harris. Number one seed Neptune is favored by thirteen points.

The winner of that game will face the winner of second-seed Jupiter (8-4) and the third-seeded Vik Vanguard (8-4). The Vanguard had won six straight games coming into last week’s home loss to the Krakens, while the Jacks have lost their last three regular-season games. Odds-makers are calling the game even.

• • •

FOR THE SECOND TIME
that season, Quentin and his orange jerseyed teammates gathered in the tunnel of Wabash Stadium. The playoffs. They had made it. Defending champs? Whatever. In three hours, Wabash would be the
former
champs.

He wasn’t in front this time. He’d given the honor to Becca, to Kill-O-Yowet, to Mum-O-Killowe. The All-Pro members of the Krakens. An honor that would be at least one year away from Quentin’s grasp. Again, he was flanked by the Tweedy brothers: John on his right, Ju on his left. He looked at them in turn, saw them staring at Becca, Kill-O and Mum-O, staring with the same envy and burning desire that he felt. Quentin, John and Ju exchanged glances — and with silent nods, a pact formed.

The three of them would work even harder next year, they would do whatever it took to become All-Pro themselves. Ma Tweedy’s three boys would represent.

Standing there, the entire team buzzing with the moment —
they had made it
 — it seemed like an eternity before the Wabash announcer finally called them onto the field.

“Sentients, please welcome the visiting team, the Krakens ... of ... Ionath!”

Quentin followed his three All-Pro teammates onto the field, so focused on the game he barely heard the boos.

• • •

QUENTIN TOOK THE SNAP
and turned left, handing off to Ju, who drove into the line — but there was no hole. Ju slowed, looking. Seeing nothing, Ju lowered his head and plowed forward. Defensive tackle Stephen Wardop was a black-and-red blur, driving under Sho-Do-Thikit to up-end Ju with an armtackle.

No gain.

Third down, 8 to go.

The Krakens offensive line couldn’t budge the Wabash D.

“Huddle up!”

The Krakens gathered. They looked wide-eyed, maybe a little shell shocked. He had to calm them down.

“Boys and girls, relax. We’re just getting warmed up. Let’s play our game, okay?”

Heads nodded, arms clacked against chests.

“Okay, I-set, slot-right, X-post, Y-wheel, Z-in, on three, on three, ready?”

“Break!”

The Krakens ran to the line and settled in. Quentin panned left-to-right, looking at the defense. These were the same players he’d faced in Week Nine ... weren’t they? They looked more intense than he’d remembered. Angrier. Wardop and fellow HeavyG defensive tackle Justin Miller, linebacker Michael Cogan, cornerback Mars.

The defense stared back at him, eyes glaring from behind black facemasks and red helmets. The Wolfpack wore the same black jerseys with red-trimmed, pearlescent numbers but now with a new patch — the 2684 Solar Division Championship shield stitched on the left shoulder. Same players, same uniforms, the Pack
looked
the same, but their high-level play was something new, something different.

“Blue, fifty-five!” Quentin called out. The defenders inched closer, almost projecting themselves toward him. “Blue, fifty-five! Hut-hut ...
hut!
”

Quentin took the snap and drove back, stabbing the ball toward Ju on a play-action fake. He kept going, planting at five steps and popping forward.

He had a glimpse of Sho-Do-Thikit falling, of Michael Kimberlin’s face — a bad thing, since Kimberlin always faced forward unless he was chasing the attacker he’d just let slip through — then the pocket collapsed so fast Quentin couldn’t escape. Wardop and Miller crashed in. Quentin pulled the ball down just as 900 pounds of HeavyG linemen drove him to the ground.

Fourth down.

Quentin stood, brushed cream-colored plants off of his orange jersey. He headed for the sidelines. Not a good start, but the game had just begun. He’d get his teammates going. Hopefully, John’s defense could do better.

• • •

QUENTIN STOOD ON THE SIDELINES
, Becca on his left and Ju on his right. They watched Wolfpack quarterback Rich Bennett take the snap, drop back and look downfield. Quentin saw the black-clad Wabash receivers streaking deep. He saw Bennett sliding to his left, toward defensive end Cliff Frost’s side of the field. The Wolfpack was double-teaming The Spaz — his frantic spinning wasn’t getting him anywhere.

Quentin gritted his teeth and nodded. This was how it would be all day, he knew the moment he saw it. The Wolfpack would roll plays to their left, move away from Krakens’ defensive end Aleksandar Michnik. That would give Bennett an extra second or two to find targets before Michnik could get to him. As long as Wabash blocked Frost, or whoever was playing at left defensive end to replace the injured Ibrahim Khomeni, Bennett would have time to throw if the Krakens didn’t blitz. Were Khomeni in the lineup, the Pack couldn’t have pulled it off, but Khomeni was out.

Bennett slid left, planted, then threw downfield. It wasn’t a great pass, but wide receiver Naksup was a step ahead of Krakens free safety Perth. The wounded-duck pass wobbled high. Naksup went up for it and brought it down.

The crowd seemed to explode when Naksup landed in the end zone.

“What the hell was that?” Ju said. “Perth is faster than Naksup. How could Perth let her by?”

Quentin shook his head. He didn’t know the answer. He pulled on his helmet and waited for his chance to get back on the field.

• • •

QUENTIN AGAIN PUSHED
himself up off the cream-colored turf. He pulled some plant material out of his facemask. He’d been hit so hard he’d
skidded
, for crying out loud. Skidded on his
face
. He walked back to the huddle, forcing himself not to limp.

“Guys, what is going on?” he asked his huddle.

Midway through the second quarter. His teammates were breathing hard. No one seemed to want to look him in the eye.

“We’re down fourteen-zip,” he said. “Come on, isn’t this the same team you beat in this same stadium just four weeks ago?”

“They hit harder!” Halawa said.

“They run faster!” Hawick said.

Quentin leaned in until he was face to face with his All-Pro left tackle. “Kill-O, isn’t this the same team we played?”

Quentin was asking a rhetorical question. Of course it was the same team, but even Kill-O looked away. That was quite a feat, considering Kill-O’s 360-degree vision.

“Grippah, jolonay,” he said.

Quentin leaned back. Had he just understood those words? Maybe not, but he definitely understood the tone, the context.
Doesn’t seem like the same team
, Kill-O had said.

The words rang true. The Wolfpack showed far more intensity, far more anger. They played faster. They played harder. They beat blocks. They played
smarter
.

Coach Hokor’s face appeared in Quentin’s heads-up display.

“Barnes! Will you get those worthless maggots to block?”

“I will, Coach,” he said. “What’s the play?”

“We have to establish the run. Let’s go pro-set, counter-right. If we’re running, our linemen are
attacking
, tell them that.”

Quentin nodded and tapped his helmet, blinking out the heads-up holo. He called the play, looking at Ju as he did.

Ju’s nose dripped a steady stream of blood. Doc Patah could fix that when they got off the field, but for now, the wound was a bit disturbing — the Krakens bad-ass running back was supposed to make
others
bleed.

“Ju, let’s take it to them. Smash-mouth.”

Ju met Quentin’s eyes, nodded. In that moment, Quentin saw the doubt. The Wolfpack were teeing off on Ju. The running back could take the hits, he could break tackles, fall forward on every play, that was fact, but Quentin could see that Ju no longer
believed
it.

Quentin walked up behind Bud-O-Shwek, surveying the defenders once again. They looked
hungry
. In that moment, Quentin understood what it was all about. The Krakens had been quite impressed with themselves for just
making
the playoffs.

But Wabash? For them, this was just one more step to the ultimate goal — they played with the intensity of champions.

The Krakens had to learn how to play like that, how to take their game up yet another level and they had to do it fast.

• • •

MIDWAY THROUGH THE SECOND
quarter, down 21-0, Quentin Barnes settled in under center. He had to make something happen, something spectacular to get his team back in the game. If he could get the Krakens motivated, give them something to rally around, then there was still a chance.

Third down, 7 to go on the Wabash 24-yard line.

“Greeeen, twenty-two,” he called down the left side of the line. He would audible out of Hokor’s play, take the ball and change the course of the game right now. “Gree
eeen
, twenty-two!”