The Champion (30 page)

Hands still on knees, John jerked a thumb back to the airlock door, then put his hand back on his knee.

“Was in the VR room,” he said, his breathing starting to return to normal. “Stupid aft lift doors got stuck. I had to force the doors open, then run down the emergency stairs.”

Yassoud nodded. “Same thing happened to me yesterday. Captain Kate had a crew out to fix it. I guess they’ll have to come out again. If the outer doors jam, on any floor, the lift freezes.”

Quentin used that lift all the time to get from Deck One, the practice field, or Deck Zero, the locker room and training room, up to Deck Eighteen, which held the VR practice room and the administrative offices.

“You said Captain Kate sent a crew? Why didn’t they fix it the first time?”

Yassoud shrugged. “The
Touchback
is an old ship. Things break down. Sometimes I think they fix things with spit and duct tape.”

The
Touchback
didn’t seem old to Quentin — it was newer than anything he’d experienced back on Micovi, that was for sure.

John stood. He was still breathing heavily, but not as bad.

SURE AM GLAD I’M IN GREAT SHAPE
danced on his forehead.

He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted across the landing bay.

“Hey, Procknow!”

Jason Procknow looked over. The long-armed HeavyG stood with the team’s other defensive tackles: fellow backups Cliff Frost, also a HeavyG, and Ki Chat-E-Riret as well as Ki starters Mum-O-Killowe and Mai-An-Ihkole.

“What do you want, Tweedy?” Procknow yelled back.

“I can smell you from over here,” John shouted. “Weird how you still stink like a rookie.”

Frost pinched his nose and took a step away from Procknow.

Procknow glared at Frost, then gave John an obscene gesture.

A second-year player, Procknow was the only other Nationalite on the team, and the only one with an infinity symbol tattooed on his forehead. At seven feet, eight inches tall and over six hundred pounds, Procknow had the size to be a great tackle — but his ability was another thing altogether.

Procknow had barely made last year’s cut. Depending on what rookies stepped out of that shuttle — and what free agents were invited to try out in the third week of the preseason — he might not make this year’s. His cousin, Becky Procknow, had been killed on the field by OS1 linebacker Yalla the Biter in the second week of last year’s regular season. Some on the team — Coach Hokor included — thought that had messed with Jason’s head, affected his performance.

If Procknow didn’t make the final roster, though, Quentin wouldn’t be that sad to see him go; the man still believed what he’d been taught by the Purist Church, and was easily the most racist sentient in the Krakens organization.

The side of the shuttle let out a hiss of compressed air, then lowered on a bottom hinge, turning into a ramp that led down to the shuttle bay deck.

The first rookie out was a HeavyG man. He wore a black Krakens jersey, number 74. He was a big kid, just a hair shorter and a few pounds lighter than Procknow. Quentin had wanted this player, and Gredok had landed him.

“Josh Athanas,” Quentin said. “Center from the Kaparna Collision in the Rodina Planetary League.”

Yassoud read data from his palm-up display.

“He’s only eighteen years old,” Yassoud said. “Same age you were as a rookie, Q, oh yep.”

That caught Quentin off-guard. He’d known Athanas’s age but hadn’t thought about the comparison. Quentin’s own eighteenth birthday was already four years past. He was only twenty-two, yet seeing an eighteen-year-old rookie made him feel like an old man.

John sighed. “A rookie center. Doesn’t look good for Gan-Ta.”

Quentin remembered how mad Becca had been when he’d talked of getting a new center, of grooming Bud-O’s future replacement. Getting that replacement meant that Gan-Ta-Kapil, Bud-O’s backup, was probably expendable. There were only fifty-three roster slots available, not enough to carry three centers. Come the end of the fourth week of preseason, either Gan-Ta or Athanas would be cut from the squad.

Michael Kimberlin was first to greet Athanas. He walked the rookie back to the gathered offensive linemen, all of whom — except for Kimberlin — were Ki. Quentin saw Gan-Ta in the press of long bodies. Hard to see emotions in the Ki’s five black eyes, but he didn’t seem agitated. Maybe he thought he could still win his roster spot. Time would tell.

“Well, I’ll be,” Yassoud said. “Gredok seems to like those HeavyG girls.”

Quentin turned his attention back to the ramp. There stood a chiseled HeavyG woman wearing number 24. He recognized her chocolate skin, dirty-blond hair and blue eyes from a game he’d watched not that long ago — Nancy Wolf, from the T3 championship game.

A
fullback
? Gredok had signed a fullback?

Nancy walked down the ramp, which started to close behind her.

No one else was coming out?

“Rodriguez,” Quentin said. “Where’s Rodriguez? Where the hell is our third quarterback?”

Yassoud shrugged. “Just Athanas and Wolf, it seems. Hey, Q, you going to date this one as well?”

“Shuck you, Murphy.”

“Because if you’re a big spender, I’m your teammate, too,” Yassoud said. “I like Italian food and long walks on the beach. Bring me flowers, who knows where the night might end.”

John tried to hold back a laugh: he failed.

Quentin glared at them. “You can both jump into the Void.”

He would welcome her as a potential teammate, regardless of the real reason she’d been on that shuttle: Gredok wanted Nancy to replace Becca at fullback, so Becca could become the backup quarterback.

Over my dead body. That’s not going to happen no matter what head games Gredok wants to play
—
we’re not putting the best fullback in football on the damn bench
.

Becca, Kopor the Climber and Pete Marval walked out to greet Wolf. At six feet and 415 pounds, Kopor was the second-largest Warrior on the team, behind only Shayat the Thick. Kopor had almost a hundred pounds on Becca, but couldn’t touch her speed and athleticism. His dark-gray-striped light-gray carapace was unique among all the team’s Quyth Warriors. While Kopor was a clear second-string to Becca’s first, he was also significantly better than third-string Marval.

Quentin felt bad for Wolf. She was obviously older than he was by a few years and had scars that spoke of a life in lower-tier football. She probably thought this was her dream come true, her shot at the big time.

I hope you enjoy your three weeks of preseason, because Becca is staying right where she is
—
come the final cut, you’re out of here
.

The team would practice on the Touchback, part of the welcome-to-the-club process for the rookies. The team would also sleep on the
Touchback
that night, the rooks settling into their new on-ship quarters. Tomorrow morning, everyone would head back to Ionath City for practice at the stadium. After that, Quentin could take his concerns directly to one Gredok the Splithead.

And oh, what fun that conversation would be.

QUENTIN STORMED INTO THE LOBBY
of the Krakens Building. A thick-chested Quyth Warrior guard held up a pedipalp hand as if doing that alone would make any sentient stop and listen. Quentin ignored him, just walked on by. The Warrior seemed confused, even looked at his hand for a moment like it was some magical talisman that had suddenly and inexplicably lost its power.

The almost-completed championship display didn’t catch Quentin’s eye, nor did the glowing stars in the black ceiling above. Those things didn’t concern him.

Quentin reached the elevator. The ever-present security guard — Harold — was there, the last barrier between Gredok’s high-rise office and the world beneath.

Harold stepped in front of the elevator doors, blocking Quentin’s path.

“I’m sorry, Mister Barnes, but you can’t go up. Gredok doesn’t want any visitors.”

Harold was a big man. Huge, even, at least by normal standards. But at six-foot-four and three hundred pounds, he looked like a child compared to Quentin, who was eight inches taller and eighty-five pounds heavier.

“I’ve got nothing against you,” Quentin said. “That’s why I’ll give you four seconds to get out of my way. You’ll have to hurt me to stop me, and if you succeed, you’ll have to explain to Gredok why you injured his starting quarterback. But what will
probably
happen is that you won’t succeed. Instead, you’ll be searching through puddles of your own blood trying to find your missing teeth.”

Harold put on his best
I will hurt you
scowl and glared up. “Mister Barnes, there’s no need to—”

“One,” Quentin said.

Harold didn’t even wait for “two.” He stepped aside, held up his wrist and spoke into it. The elevator door opened.

“Go on up, Mister Barnes,” Harold said.

Quentin stepped inside.

“GREDOK, JUST WHAT THE HELL
do you think you’re doing?”

The black-furred Quyth Leader stared down from his high throne.

“I am building a team that will defend my title,” the Leader said, as calm as ever.

His
title? The words infuriated Quentin. Had Gredok bled across the galaxy’s football fields?

The Leader’s clear eye stared down without a trace of color. Seeing such composure made Quentin realize he’d lost control. He shoved down his feelings of anger and frustration: emotions were what Gredok wanted, so he could use them to manipulate.

Quentin took a slow breath.

“We talked about this,” he said. “I told you we needed a quarterback.”

Gredok’s left pedipalp hand casually fondled a pendant made of platinum and a deep green stone.

“We can
talk
all you like, Barnes, but personnel decisions are mine to make. You have proven to be quite durable — I have every faith that you will make it through the season in one piece. If you do not, we have Goldman ... and we have Montagne.”

“Becca is a
fullback
,” Quentin said. “Or are you completely unaware of your players’ positions? If you need to be tutored on the basics of football, Gredok, I’d be happy to give you a lesson.”

Gredok ignored the jibe. “Goldman can’t lead us to victories. But you already know that, Barnes, because in the Galaxy Bowl,
you
are the one that put Montagne in over him. And tell me honestly — do you think Rodriguez is better than she is?”

Quentin started to say
yes
, but stopped. Becca’s size, strength, toughness, knowledge of the Krakens offense and players, her accuracy in the short passing game ... Rodriguez was good, but she was better. Gredok knew that. Quentin would have known it, too, if he’d ever stopped to really think about it.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I need her in the backfield with me, not on the sidelines holding a clipboard,” Quentin said. “She’s the best blocker at her position in all of football.”

“I would never waste her talents,” Gredok said. “She is our starting fullback
and
a backup quarterback, which gives me excellent value for my money. So you see, I do not need Rodriguez after all — I need a fullback capable of filling in for her in case you get hurt and Montagne takes over your starting spot.”

This whole charade was about one thing: showing Quentin that despite the Galaxy Bowl MVP, despite the GFL championship, this was
Gredok’s
team — Quentin was just an employee.

He pointed a finger up at the Leader.

“None of this will matter, Gredok. As long as I’m healthy, I’ll take every snap at quarterback, and I
will
stay healthy.”

“I should hope so,” Gredok said as he leaned back in his throne. “Because if you can’t play football, you’ll be of no use to me.”

It wasn’t enough for Gredok to be the boss and make the decisions; he also wanted to remind Quentin that when football was over, there were still markers to be paid.

About that point, at least, Quentin couldn’t agree more.

“That’s true,” he said. “And if I can’t play football, then by the same token
you
would no longer be of use to
me
.”

Gredok sat forward again, sharply this time, his fur instantly puffing out.

“Did you just threaten me?
Me?
You worthless Human, do you have any idea who you are talking to?”

Quentin concentrated on not smiling — his last comment had taken Gredok out of his game. Quentin ran his left hand over his hair, from forehead back, mimicking the Quyth gesture of subservience.

“I would never threaten you.”

A promise isn’t a threat, you little pip-squeak
.

“Gredok, I understand you wanting to get maximum value for your money, but you’re missing something. Becca is better than Rodriguez and Yitzhak, but she’s
not
better than me. If she’s getting reps at quarterback, she’s not focusing on her job of protecting me — that means she could miss something, and I could get hurt. Can Becca win you a couple of games? Maybe. If I go down, can she bring you another Galaxy Bowl? No way.”

The Leader’s fur fluffed one more time, then lay smooth.

“You have a point,” he said. “Fine, Barnes — if you want a quarterback, I do have a trade offer on the table. Trevor Haney, backup for the New Rodina Astronauts. It seems Haney doesn’t want to drop to Tier Two and is willing to restructure his contract to league minimum in order to avoid that.”

GK Parish was the Astronauts starting QB. Quentin hadn’t seen Haney play. Parish was a serviceable quarterback, at best — the Astronauts had won just one game all season, which was why they had been relegated.

“If Haney is behind Parish on the depth chart, that doesn’t say much for his skill.”

“You want a backup,” Gredok said. “Haney has four years of Tier One experience in that role. And he’s only twenty-three. Hokor thinks he’s a good fit. I’ll have our breakdown footage sent to your room.”

“Who do the Astronauts want for him?”

“If they don’t trade Haney, he has a Tier Two opt-out clause, so they either move him or he sits out the season and they get nothing for him,” Gredok said. “So for a solid backup quarterback, all they are asking is a kick returner — they want Mezquitic.”