The Starter (44 page)

TARAT:
Well, doesn’t someone have to own it?

AKBAR:
Sure, but should the league reward murder?

DAN:
Hey, ho, slow down there, chief! Let’s not go throwing the m-word around, Miss Villani might not appreciate that. Let’s change the subject and talk about Frank Zimmer’s concussion.

TARAT:
Human brains are so fragile.

DAN:
Despite all the protective gear technology, concussions continue to be a major source of injury.

AKBAR:
I don’t know why they can’t just invent a better helmet.

DAN:
It’s not that easy, Akbar, there are physics involved.

AKBAR:
What do you mean, physics?

TARAT:
Physics is the science of matter and energy and interactions between the two, Akbar.

AKBAR:
I know what physics
is
Smasher. I’m asking why the great brains of the universe, those computerized egghead scients of the League of Planets, why can’t they make a better helmet?

DAN:
Well, from what I understand, there is so much mass and force when a six-hundred-pound Ki nails you that your brain bounces off the
inside
of your skull. Helmets can protect the outside, but unless they put some kind of shock absorber between your skull and your brain? Not much can be done. Hence, the situation we have with another Frank Zimmer concussion.

TARAT:
His seventh, I believe.

DAN:
Yes, his
seventh
time, and this time Zimmer went down for the count. He took a vicious hit from Mars Planets safety Parbhani, and was taken out of the game. The Pirates had been up fourteen to nothing, but with Zimmer out, the offense couldn’t do anything. The Planets came back to tie it up in the fourth quarter, then win 17-14 in overtime. The Pirates’ first loss of the season. And the concussion is apparently so bad that Zimmer will not play this week against the Isis Ice Storm in a battle for first place in that division.

TARAT:
I think this puts the Pirates’ entire season in question. Their backup quarterback is not at Frank Zimmer’s level.

AKBAR:
It’s not like people didn’t see this coming. Zimmer can’t quarterback forever. Why didn’t the Pirates go out and find a backup they could groom to take over?

TARAT:
The rumor was that they were going after Quentin Barnes.

DAN:
If that’s true, the Pirates could still get their man. If Barnes stays in Tier One, the Pirates can’t touch him this year or next due to league regulations. But if the Krakens drop down to Tier Two? Then Barnes is a free agent.

AKBAR:
Why would Barnes leave the Krakens?

TARAT:
My sources tell me that Barnes is making league minimum.

DAN:
What?
No way.

TARAT:
My sources assure me it’s true.

DAN:
You heard it here first, Universe. Quentin Barnes, the quarterback of the Tier One Ionath Krakens, is making
league minimum
. Let’s get some response to this. Line three from Orbital Station Two, you’re on the space, go.

• • •

QUENTIN SANK INTO
the healing warmth of a training room rejuve tank. Doc Patah hovered over him, checking readouts, positioning a clamshell fixture over Quentin’s right knee.

“Is it bad, Doc? It hurts, but it doesn’t feel
that
bad.”

“You have a slight tear in your ACL,” Doc Patah said. “In its current state, you could have easily shredded it. I admire your wanting to ignore pain, Quentin, but you need to tell me when you are hurting.”

“I thought you said we footballers weren’t tough, at least not compared to your fancy mixed-martial-arts fighters.”

“Different sport. Fighters do not have backups that can spell them for a few plays if the doctor needs to make adjustments. They also have one fight every seven or eight months, not a season of twelve games. You’re not a child anymore, Quentin, you are the focal point of a multi-billion-credit business.”

Quentin opened his mouth to argue, but realized he didn’t have a counterpoint.

“At any rate, it is minor,” Doc Patah said. “Twenty minutes in the tank, no strenuous activity tonight or tomorrow, you’ll be fine.”

Doc’s mouth flaps called up the tank’s controls. He moved icons, and the clamshell fixture closed on Quentin’s knee. Quentin felt cold metal for a moment, then a poke as the nerve blockers kicked in, then nothing. He picked up some vibrations in his thigh — the echo of tiny machines burrowing into his knee to repair the damage. Quentin settled in, put his head back on the tank’s rear lip, and closed his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there, or if he had fallen asleep, when he heard a voice he did
not
want to hear.

“You failed me.”

Quentin opened his eyes and sat up, as much as he could sit up with his knee gripped in the fixture. Gredok the Splithead sat on a tiny stool just outside the rejuve tank. No one else was there.

Quentin felt a stab of tension, then forced it away. The rejuve tank’s warm goo comforted him, relaxed him. He could use that to keep his emotions steady, not betray anything to the half-pint crime lord.

“I am humiliated,” Gredok said slowly. “You are the quarterback, therefore, it is your fault.”

Quentin nodded. “That’s right.”

Gredok stared at him for a moment. Quentin ignored the urge to talk, to fill the silence.

“I just said it is your fault I am humiliated, and you agree with me,” Gredok said. “Most sentients would try to deflect my disappointment, knowing what might happen to them if they do not. Why do you not attempt to share the blame?”

“Because you’re right. I
am
the quarterback. It’s my team. Whatever the reasons for the loss, the buck stops with me.”

They sat there for another long minute, perhaps two, neither saying a word. Quentin knew Gredok was measuring him, looking for tells, for signs, but this time there would be none to find — Quentin wouldn’t pass the blame to anyone else that might suffer Gredok’s wrath.

“Barnes, perhaps I have been wrong. I have been using threats to motivate you. What you Humans call
the stick
. Perhaps someone like you, someone who
chooses
to accept responsibility and ownership, perhaps you need
the carrot
.”

Quentin waited, saying nothing.

“I know you are looking for your parents,” Gredok said.

Quentin’s heart hammered for a second, but he calmed himself, let the healing gel relax him. Now wasn’t the time to show emotions. Did Gredok know about Frederico?

“Barnes, I am a powerful being. Very powerful. You know this?”

Quentin nodded.

“I have considerable reach, considerable resources. If I were to put those resources to work for you, you might find your family sooner.”

“I would... appreciate that, Gredok. But what’s the catch?”

“The
catch
, Barnes, is that I have two goals for the season. The first was to beat Gloria Ogawa. You failed at that.”

“And the second?”

“To
stay
in Tier One.”

Gredok leaned forward, his softball-sized eye only a few inches from Quentin’s. Quentin could see each individual hair in the silky black fur, see
through
the cornea to the small discs that lined the inside.

“So here is your carrot, Barnes. If you keep the Krakens in Tier One, I
will find
your family. I have police, judges, even
generals
on my payroll. Whatever the cost, I will find their whereabouts.”

“And if I don’t find a way to keep us in Tier One?”

Gredok stood and waddled away. He stopped at the door, and turned.

“If you don’t find a way, Barnes, then you will be back in Tier Two. The entire galaxy will consider you a loser. Is there anything that would frighten you worse?”

Quentin slowly shook his head.

“Find a way, Barnes,” Gredok said. “You find a way, and for this one thing, you will find out just what a powerful friend I can be.”

Gredok left the training room. Moments later, the knee fixture beeped and released, snapping open, freeing his limb. Quentin stared at it for a moment, contemplated getting up, then finally put his head back down, closed his eyes, and let the warm rejuve fluid carry him off to sleep.

GFL WEEK FIVE ROUNDUP

(Courtesy of Galaxy Sports Network)

A thrilling week of GFL action saw all undefeated teams finally suffer the bitter taste of loss. In a major upset, the previously winless Vik Vanguard (1-3) edged out the previously undefeated D’Kow War Dogs (4-1) by a score of 20-18. The Bord Brigands (4-1) moved into a first-place tie with the War Dogs in the Solar Division, thanks to a 17-10 win over the Bartel Water Bugs (1-3).

The To Pirates also dropped their first of the season, falling 17-14 to the Mars Planets (3-2). Things don’t get any easier for the Pirates, who face the Isis Ice Storm (3-1) next week in a battle for first place in the Planet Division. The Ice Storm is tied for second with the Lu Juggernauts (3-1) and the Wabash Wolfpack (3-1).

Deaths

No deaths reported this week.

Offensive Player of the Week

Dreadnaughts quarterback
Gavin Warren
, who was 18-for-22 with three TD passes in Themala’s 21-10 win over Chillich.

Defensive Player of the Week

Cloud Killers cornerback
Smileyberg
, who had five tackles and two interceptions, including one she returned 34 yards for a touchdown.

PLANET DIVISION

4-1 To Pirates

3-1 Isis Ice Storm

3-1 Lu Juggernauts

3-1 Wabash Wolfpack

3-2 Mars Planets

2-2 Hittoni Hullwalkers (bye)

2-2 Alimum Armada

2-3 Coranadillana Cloud Killers

2-3 Yall Criminals

2-3 Themala Dreadnaughts

1-4 Ionath Krakens

SOLAR DIVISION

4-1 Bord Brigands

4-1 D’Kow War Dogs

3-1 New Rodina Astronauts (bye)

3-2 Sala Intrigue

3-2 Neptune Scarlet Fliers

2-2 Jupiter Jacks

1-3 Bartel Water Bugs

1-3 Vik Vanguard

1-4 Shorah Warlords

1-4 Jang Atom Smashers

0-4 Chillich Spider-Bears

TWO HUMANS,
one Quyth Warrior, two Ki, and Quentin’s yacht still had plenty of room. Aside from Don Pine stopping by his quarters to dish out advice, Quentin had never played the role of host before. He liked it.

In the galley, Quentin opened a bag of candied shushuliks and put them in a bowl. Disgusting, but it gave Mum-O-Killowe and Sho-Do-Thikit something to eat that didn’t squeal. And, truth be told, shushuliks were not nearly as disgusting as what was in the other snack bowl. Quentin grabbed two mag-cans of Miller with his right hand, put the bowl of shushuliks on top of the other bowl, scooped them both up, and walked to the salon.

He had to laugh as he walked in. Not only was this yacht
his
, not only were they taking
his yacht
on an interstellar trip, but he had Mum-O, Sho-Do, and Choto the Bright sitting in his salon watching the Galaxy’s Greatest Sports Show with Dan, Akbar, & Tarat the Smasher. Two of the “Satanic races,” right here in his
home
.

He set the bowls on the table. Mum-O and Sho-Do immediately went for the shushuliks, while Choto looked into the other bowl.

“Spider snacks?” Choto said. “Thank you, Quentin.”

Quentin gestured to the holotank. “They’ve been advertising them on GGSS. Nacho flavor. Tarat seems to dig them. Enjoy, just don’t ask me to eat any.”

“I will not, Quentin.”

“And all of you, eat these whole, will ya? I don’t want to have to clean up shushulik goo or spider juice off my floor.”

All three of the aliens grunted, their mouths already full.

Was it strange that it felt so good to see his guests eating? Comfortable? Happy? He walked to the small control cabin and offered a mag-can to the “captain.”

“Frederico,” Quentin said. “Beer?”

Frederico shook his head. “Uh, no, Quentin. I don’t feel like getting sloshed while I’m driving your rich-boy yacht.”

Quentin shrugged. “Okay, that’s cool. We all set for the trip?”

“Yep, you can quit worrying. Flight plan is confirmed. We’re due in OS1 space in three hours. We already have a docking berth reserved.”

“Will we have to do the customs search?”

Frederico shook his head. “Probably not. There are random searches, but it’s not like the way the GFL searches everything. We’re just another pleasure craft, taking a trip from one Concordia planet to another.”