The Champion (23 page)

“I didn’t know,” he said.

“Liar. I made it so
obvious
.”

“Obvious? Becca, you were with John. You were
engaged
to him up until only a few weeks ago. How is that obvious?”

Her hard expression held for a moment, then melted away. She stared out blankly. Quentin recognized that puzzled look on her face, that feeling of finally seeing something you’ve missed all along, something that was right there but never quite registered.

“I was so
sure
you knew,” she said quietly. “But how could you, when I was dating your best friend?” She put her face in her hands. “I guess I really am stupid after all.”

Declaring his love for her hadn’t gone like he’d hoped, or even like he’d feared. Girls were ... complicated.

Quentin reached out, slowly, took her hands, pulled them away from her face. She let him.

“Maybe we both missed the obvious things,” he said. “But I never did anything to intentionally hurt you. I never will.”

She squeezed his hands. She looked at him with longing, and also with fear. The combined expression made one thing clear — he had the power to crush this woman’s heart, either intentionally or by accident.

Just as she had the power to crush his.

But he didn’t care.

If it ends badly, it ends badly. She’s worth the risk. My Valkyrie is worth everything
.

“Becca, I love you.”

She sniffed. “I love you, too. Quentin, are you scared?”

“Terrified. I’ve never been in love before.”

He’d done it. He’d told her. And she loved him. It didn’t matter how they had reached this point, what mattered was the
now
of it. Now, and the future.

“I need to get away from Ionath for awhile,” he said. “I’ll see Gredok, make sure Messal is safe, then I just need to get away.”

Becca nodded. She understood, felt the same. The season had been so long, as had the playoffs, and the few days traveling to the Cloud had seemed like an eternity unto themselves.

“Come to Earth with me,” she said. “We could tour all the old football stadiums, archaeological sites and ... and maybe you could meet my parents?”

She said that last bit like she was afraid it might scare him away. If she thought that, she was wrong.

“I’d love it,” he said. “Let’s spend the off-season together.”

Becca leaned over the table, reached up to his face and pulled him in for a long, soft kiss.

It was their first kiss. It wouldn’t be their last.

27

Gredok the Splithead

QUENTIN STROLLED
into the Krakens Building, which served as the franchise headquarters, housing for many of the players, and the home of one Gredok the Splithead. Dozens of ground-floor security guards smiled at him, communicating the simple message that he could go wherever he liked and no one would stop him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw contractors working on the Ionath Krakens championship display. It had once held only the Galaxy Bowl trophy from the 2665 championship, but, obviously, the 2685 trophy had to be added. Quentin wondered what artifacts would join Bobby “Orbital Assault” Adrojnik’s Galaxy Bowl MVP trophy and GFL championship ring. The ever-playing holos of Adrojnik were now blank — undoubtedly, holos of Quentin would soon play side by side with the man known as “The Saint of Ionath.”

As he headed for the elevators, Quentin looked up to the ceiling: a black dome dotted with lights representing stars with inhabited planets or stations. The stars of systems that had a Tier One franchise burned brighter than the rest, and were accompanied by the glowing logo of that team.

It seemed impossible, but the logos of the Hittoni Hullwalkers and the New Rodina Astronauts were gone. Two of the most storied franchises in history, and they had both fallen to Tier Two. The Hullwalkers’ trophy room held
three
Galaxy Bowl titles, the franchise had spent all twenty-seven years of its existence in Tier One, but there was no credit given for past successes.

In the GFL, nothing was guaranteed. No matter who you were, if you lost, you fell. At the end of the Tier Two tournament, a pair of teams would earn promotion, and their home stars would glow brightly above.

The burly HeavyG guard at the elevator opened it as Quentin approached, then stepped aside with a smile and a nod.

“Congratulations, Mister Barnes,” the guard said. “I’ve been a Krakens fan since I was born.”

“Thanks,” Quentin said as he stepped into the elevator. “What’s your name again?”

“Harold.”

“Thank you, Harold.”

The guard smiled wider. The doors closed, and Quentin went up.

When the
Hypatia
had reached orbit above Ionath, Messal had contacted Quentin — Gredok demanded a meeting. The message had been all business: Messal hadn’t mentioned if things were good or bad, if Gredok had any idea of what had happened or if the team owner remained oblivious. The Worker seemed to be alive and well, which was a good sign, but it didn’t guarantee anything. Gredok liked to play things close to the vest. Did he know about the trip to the Cloud? Was Messal busted? If so, what could Quentin do to help the Worker? At the very least, what was the fallout of Quentin’s brawl with Virak?

It was hard to think of anything going bad, though — he was the quarterback of the Ionath Krakens, a Galaxy Bowl champ, and Becca Montagne loved him. The baddest fullback in the league was his and he was hers, and everything was going to work out.

At the top of the Krakens Building, the elevator doors opened. Messal the Efficient stood there, waiting, along with Bobby Brobst, a Human bodyguard of Gredok’s

“Elder Barnes, I do so appreciate you being on time,” Messal said. “Gredok is ready to see you.”

Messal’s uniform was neat as a pin, as always. No color in his cornea. Bobby didn’t seem aggressive in the least: like everyone else, he was all smiles.

“Way to go, Quentin,” Bobby said. No anger there, it seemed — just another happy fan.

As always, several well-dressed guards from all species loitered in the top floor’s spacious lobby, and all of them beamed at Quentin.

Messal led Quentin to Gredok’s large, round, mostly dark office. Priceless works of art lined the walls, each lit up by discreet spotlights. Statues, paintings ... Quentin noticed three pieces of pottery had been added to the collection.

In the center of the room, on a throne mounted on a ten-foot-high white marble pillar, sat Gredok the Splithead. His fur and excessive jewelry gleamed under spotlights of their own, sending a clear message: for all the treasures in this room, nothing was as valuable as the owner himself.

Standing at the base of the pillar, baseball-sized eye swirling with black, stood Virak the Mean.

Uh-oh
 ...
now we’ll find out how much trouble I’m in
.

“Welcome home, Barnes,” Gredok said. “Your absence was annoying. Did you represent us well in Prawatt space?”

Quentin nodded. “Of course. I imagine the sales of official Krakens merchandise will go up due to the visit.”

“One can only hope,” Gredok said. “When Bumberpuff returns, I will have him work on facilitating that trade. Seeing as the Prawatt do not use Creterakian currency, it will take some negotiating, but I’m sure that race has other resources to exchange.”

The Leader’s voice rang with optimism, if not outright glee. He either didn’t realize the emotion he was showing or — more likely — was showing it on purpose.

“I assumed you would all come back together,” Gredok said. “It isn’t like you to leave early. Aren’t you always the first one to practice and the last one to leave?”

The game began. Quentin had become the quintessential team player. Not staying with Bumberpuff and the others wasn’t like him, a discrepancy Gredok would not leave unexamined.

“I am the last to leave practice, but this wasn’t practice,” Quentin said. “To tell you the truth, Gredok, the whole thing was kind of boring.”

“Boring,” Gredok echoed. “By that, do you mean you weren’t the center of attention?”

Quentin focused on his fake father for a moment, calling up enough anger at those lies to bring some color to his face, to let his heart rate kick up a touch. Just as quickly, he pushed those thoughts away — Gredok knew of Quentin’s control, so anything other than a quick burst of emotion might oversell the ruse.

Gredok’s pedipalp hands absently played with his bracelets. “You were in Prawatt space, after all, and we do have four Prawatt on the team, Barnes. It’s no surprise that species lavished praise upon its own. A shame if that came at the expense of giving proper homage to the Galaxy Bowl MVP, no?”

“Oh, please,” Quentin said. “The championship game was a team effort, Gredok — I don’t care who gets the attention.”

Quentin could
sense
Gredok’s delight. The Leader loved the idea that Quentin had been outshined, that such a slight might hurt Quentin’s pride. Quentin had learned that tactic from Gredok himself: the juicy detail often sells the lie.

“At any rate, Barnes, you are back. Are you now ready to fulfill your media obligations? Messal has many interview requests lined up for you.”

Quentin shook his head. “We won the Galaxy Bowl. That’s my
only
obligation. After this meeting, I’m leaving for a vacation on Earth. I’ll be back for the Tier Three tournament.”

Gredok’s single softball-sized eye stared down. In years past, the crime lord would have ordered Quentin to stay, but their relationship had obviously changed. Quentin had delivered the ultimate prize. For now, at least, he clearly had Gredok’s respect.

“The interviews can wait,” Gredok said. “Enjoy your trip to Earth, Barnes.”

“Thank you.”

“Before you depart, however, there is something I’d like to discuss. I understand that, at times, your sister is living in Ionath City?”

Quentin stayed calm. Gredok had nothing to do with Jeanine’s ordeal in the Portath Cloud. That didn’t change the fact that she was still a potential target for Villani, for the Creterakians, for Kirani Kollok — and for Gredok the Splithead.

“Couldn’t say where she lives,” Quentin said. “She’s a grown sentient. She goes where she wants to go.”

“Then she should choose better company for her travels. I’m told she still associates with that criminal Frederico Gonzaga. It would be a shame if violence directed at him were to impact her.”

Was Gredok still out for revenge on Fred? Quentin had hoped that might blow over. More likely, Gredok wanted to let Quentin know that Jeanine wasn’t safe.

“If
anything
were to happen to my sister, I’d have to find out who was responsible. Who knows, I might even have to miss part of the season to track them down.”

Quentin saw a flash of color in Gredok’s eye, there and then gone: the green of stress, mixed with a few curls of black. Perhaps the fear of Quentin missing games was greater than Gredok’s need to control his every move.

“Should it come to that, Barnes — and I hope it does not — I employ sentients who will do that for you. Professionals, I might add, professionals who are experienced with such matters.”

Quentin glanced to the base of the column, where Virak stood like one of Gredok’s statues — a statue with an eye of swirling black. Sentients like Virak worked for Gredok. Quentin could only imagine who Gredok had on retainer. Thugs, hit men, police, probably even a few sentients in the military. The bad side of Gredok was a bad place to be.

“I deeply appreciate that offer,” Quentin said. “If anything happens to Jeanine, I’ll use whatever resources you provide in addition to searching for the culprit myself.”

Quentin hoped that made things clear. Even if Gredok threw his entire organization behind such a search, Quentin
still
wouldn’t play football. If Gredok tried to use Jeanine, he’d lose his All-Pro quarterback in the process.

The Leader eased back in his throne.

“There are open apartments in the Krakens Building, similar to yours. If she lives here, she will be protected night and day.”

Oh, that was just too much.

“Gredok, do you really think I’m dumb enough to
deliver
my sister to you?”

“You just told me that if anything happens to her, you will not play football. Do you mean what you say?”

Quentin sought the trick in the question but couldn’t find one.

“Absolutely,” he said. “I mean it.”

“Next season’s Galaxy Bowl is in the Jupiter Net Colony,” Gredok said. “If I want to be on the podium in Red Storm City, raising my second-straight championship trophy, don’t you think it is in my best interest for my best player to be on the field all season long?”

Again, basic logic. Quentin nodded.

“I admit that I manipulated you with your father,” Gredok said. “However, that was to achieve the goal of signing you to a long-term contract. Now my goal is to help you focus on football, so you can bring me another title. If keeping your sister safe accomplishes that goal, than it is logical for me to have her live here, in the most secure building in Ionath City.”

The Krakens Building, where Quentin lived, protected by Gredok’s guards, by the police on Gredok’s payroll. His sister would be safe, just a few doors or an elevator ride away. But Gredok also lived here, and Gredok was, well, he was
Gredok
: a liar, a conman, a killer.

“Barnes, I know you doubt my intentions, but I have extended this offer to many others in my organization. Samuel Darkeye and his wife live here. Jason Procknow and his five children are one floor below my own.”

“Procknow has
five
kids? He’s only twenty.”

“You’re surprised that someone from your system bred early and rapidly?”

“Good point.” Most people from Purist worlds were married by thirteen or fourteen, and if girls weren’t pregnant by the time they were fifteen, it was thought that something was wrong with them. Quentin hadn’t even known Procknow had children at all, let alone five.

“Too many Human larvae in this building, truth be told, but that is the cost of doing business,” Gredok said. “Yitzhak Goldman lives here with his wife and two sons, and they rarely leave. My servants cater to their every need, just as they will your sister’s.”