The Champion (34 page)

BOOK FOUR

The Regular Season

34

Week One:
Isis Ice Storm at Ionath Krakens

A report from the Creterakian Ministry of Religion (CMR) to be delivered directly to the Emperor of the Creterakian Empire.

THE CHURCH OF QUENTIN BARNES

• URGENT UPDATE •

The Church of Quentin Barnes (CoQB) has continued to grow at an alarming rate. The CMR recommends that the CoQB be moved up to the level of Potential Major Threat. The Non-Creterakian Intelligence Agency (NCIA) has already listed Barnes as a Category One threat on the Chart of Potential Revolutionaries.

The CMR is struggling to keep accurate track of this religion’s explosive expansion. Three years ago, the CoQB was a small provincial religion on the planet Yall in the Sklorno Dynasty. Our comprehensive report of last year placed the CoQB membership at 22.5 million, with dioceses on all five Dynasty worlds.

Since that estimate, Barnes led the Ionath Krakens to victory in Galaxy Bowl XXVII, where he was named the game’s Most Valuable Player. The game was watched by an estimated 305 trillion sentient beings, a number that does not count potential viewers from the Prawatt Jihad, which could, conservatively, push the total viewership to over 500 trillion sentients.

In the months after the Galaxy Bowl, the CMR estimates that membership in the CoQB tripled to roughly 68.4 million sentients.

With donations coming in from such a large membership, the CoQB’s financial resources have grown exponentially. The organization is actively using these funds in an aggressive proselytizing campaign that includes missionary work, funding of nonprofit charities, corporate and political donations, and even broadcast advertising on sports-related entertainment programming.

Of even greater concern is something unprecedented in the history of Sklorno-based religions — the CMR has observed non-Sklorno species joining the CoQB. While the number of non-Sklorno members is currently statistically insignificant, if this trend persists there is no way to accurately predict just how large the church could become.

Fueled by the GFL’s exploding popularity and broad appeal to multiple species, our sociologists believe that Quentin Barnes is now the most recognized sentient in history. The CMR wants to emphasize that we are not saying Barnes is the most recognized sentient in football, or in sports, but in the history of all known existence.

NCIA continues to request pre-emptive approval for using any and all containment strategies on Barnes. Plans are being drafted to discredit him in the eyes of his Sklorno followers. In addition, the NCIA has prepared an undisclosed containment facility should the need arise to remove Barnes from public view for an as-yet-to-be-determined amount of time.

At this time, neither the CMR or NCIA recommend the assassination of Quentin Barnes. However, the NCIA maintains its previous stance that should the CoQB grow to a confirmed number of over 100 million followers, Barnes must be liquidated on the grounds that he is a threat to the Creterakian Empire.

The CMR awaits the Emperor’s response.

CONFLICTS.

Drama.

Pressure.

Expectations.

Those things drained away like rain-driven mud sliding off a rock to reveal the hard, unforgiving surface beneath. Because at their core, at the essence of who they were as sentient beings, the Krakens were athletes, born and bred for a few scant moments of game-time glory.

They were football players.

After four weeks of preseason and the week’s worth of practice leading up to this game, the time for football had finally arrived.

Quentin and his teammates prepared to take the field. Ionath Stadium buzzed with the visceral energy generated from 185,000 screaming sentients. He and his teammates had delivered the galaxy’s ultimate prize, the GFL trophy, and those fans were going insane waiting to welcome their champions home.

Wearing black armor and black jerseys with white-trimmed orange numbers and letters, the Krakens jostled back and forth, packed tight into a tunnel that was incapable of restraining their urgency, their desire for victory. Six species banded together as the best of the best, as
champions
.

The announcer’s booming voice finally echoed through the packed stadium.

“
We now raise the championship banner celebrating the 2685 Galaxy Bowl victory!
”

The crowd erupted anew. Quentin stared out of the tunnel at the final bit of ceremony; the last shred of the franchise patting itself on the back before the Krakens stepped onto the blue surface and went to work.

At the far end of the field, a dozen Harrah draped in streaming orange and black ribbons rose up from the end zone. Each of them held a glistening orange rope. Those ropes led into a wide black lacquer box decorated with the Krakens logo in the center.

The Harrah flew higher, the ropes pulled taut, and a black banner rose out of the box, rippling majestically. At the top of the banner, in white-trimmed orange letters, were the words
IONATH KRAKENS
. Below that, the logo of Galaxy Bowl XXVII, and at the bottom, the words
Galactic Champions 2685
.

The Harrah raised the banner high and hung it from a gleaming bar jutting out the scoreboard’s left side. All the while, the crowd roared. The Harrah then dove back down, grabbed a set of black ropes and raised an almost identical banner that read:

IONATH KRAKENS

Galaxy Bowl VII

Galactic Champions 2665
.

The crowd noise grew even louder: the Krakens were one of only six franchises with more than one title, a rare honor indeed.

The Harrah hung the ’65 banner on the scoreboard’s right. Quentin stared out at the spectacle, taking it all in. He was now on par with franchise legend Bobby “Orbital Assault” Adrojnik. Quentin knew he was well on his way to becoming a legend in his own right, might already be there, but he wasn’t satisfied, wasn’t finished.

One more title to beat Adrojnik.

Two
more to beat Don Pine.

And before any of that was even a consideration, Quentin had to beat the Isis Ice Storm.

The announcer’s voice rang through Ionath Stadium.

“
Beings of all races, please rise and give a warm welcome for your DEFENDING GFL champions ... the Ionaaaaath ... KRAAAAAAAKENS!
”

Quentin and his teammates sprinted onto the field. The stadium air rippled with pride, with happiness and joy. He angled for the sidelines, looking up into the stands at a sea of orange, black and white, of Krakens jerseys and jackets, shirts and hats, flags and banners and pom-poms — the tribal colors of the Ionath faithful.

Quentin looked left, across the field to the opposition’s sidelines. The Isis Ice Storm players stood stock still, Ki and Quyth Warrior and Human and HeavyG and Sklorno and — yes, it had come to pass —
Prawatt
, all watching him, all internally amping themselves up for a shot at the champs.

The Ice Storm’s helmets blazed white in the afternoon sun, chrome facemasks flashing and gleaming. The sword-snowflake logos on either side of their helmets sparkled a metallic blue. Blue-trimmed chrome numbers flashed on white-jerseyed shoulders. The jerseys’ white fabric blended to light blue where they tucked into chrome belts. Hip armor of that same light blue gradated to a darker blue at the thighs, to navy blue at the shins and shoes.

Soon, those jerseys would be blood-streaked and torn.

QUENTIN ROLLED RIGHT,
Becca out in front of him. Bodies raged, flew in all directions. Quentin waited for Denver to finish her out-and-up route: forward fifteen yards, a hard right, then up the sideline toward the end zone.

Ice Storm defensive end Ryan Nossek tossed Ionath right tackle Vu-Ko-Will aside, then came in hard, galloping on all fours as he let out a primitive roar. Nossek had killed five players in his career, was probably the most dangerous defensive end in the game, and yet Quentin barely gave him a second thought — he knew Becca would do her job.

The long-armed Nossek reached out for Quentin, but his grasp fell short as Becca’s shoulder pads hammered into his waist, knocking the HeavyG man’s massive legs out from under him.

Untouched, Quentin kept rolling right. He threw a light, high-arcing pass just before Denver cut up the sidelines, leaving the Ice Storm cornerback a step and a half behind her. Santa Cruz, the Isis safety, came over to help, but it was already too late. Thirty yards downfield, Denver hauled in the pass without breaking stride, then stepped out of bounds at the 5-yard line just before Santa Cruz could deliver a crushing blow.

The home fans bellowed their approval, as they had already done so many times that afternoon. Quentin felt like he couldn’t miss. Three touchdown passes and over three hundred yards passing, driving the Krakens to a 21-7 lead — and it was only the third quarter.

The team gathered in the huddle. Denver was the last to join.

“Love-love-love that pass! Love-love-love!
More please!
”

“No talking in my huddle,” Quentin said. His voice was firm, but his smile showed he wasn’t upset with his friend and favorite receiver.

His helmet’s VR screen popped down, showing Hokor’s scowling, one-eyed face and his tiny little Krakens ball cap.

“Good throw, Barnes,” the Leader said. “Spread wide, single-back dive-left, but if you see an opportunity to pass, take it.”

Tara the Freak ran onto the field; Becca ran off.

Quentin tapped the side of his helmet, making the VR screen snap back into its hidden housing. He looked at his teammates and repeated the coach’s command.

“And
listen
for an audible,” Quentin said. “It’s loud down here.”

Ju sneered. “Just give me the damn ball, Q. Stop hogging the glory.”

“Pipe down, Tweedy. On two, on two, ready?”

“
Break
!” the team called in unison.

They jogged to their starting spots. Denver lined up wide left, the bigger Halawa a yard inside and a yard behind her. Crazy George — who had painted his face in tiger stripes for some unknown reason — lined up at right tight end. Tara the Freak lined up wide right. This close to the end zone, Tara’s strength was more valuable than the breakaway speed of the other Ionath receivers.

Five yards behind Quentin, Ju settled into a three-point stance. Even over the crowd, Quentin could hear him breathing.
Snorting
was more like it; the big running back wanted the ball.

Quentin slid his hands beneath Bud-O-Shwek. He looked out over his offensive line: left tackle Kill-O-Yowet, left guard Sho-Do-Thikit, Bud-O at center, Michael Kimberlin at right guard and Vu-Ko-Will at right tackle. Vu-Ko hadn’t been able to stop Nossek, but the rest of the line had dominated their Ice Storm opposites — which was why this play was called to go left of center, as opposed to right.

The Ice Storm linebackers, Chaka the Brutal and Max Taliaferro, crept up, then crept back. They faced a difficult choice: creep closer to stop the run and have Quentin throw over them for the touchdown, or stay back to cover crossing routes and let Ju build up a head of steam if Quentin handed off the ball. The defensive backs spread out to cover Denver, Halawa and Tara the Freak, leaving only Santa Cruz in place to stop a pass over the middle to the back of the end zone.

To audible, Quentin would call out the color “red,” signaling his teammates that they needed to listen closely to his following words for the changed play. He saw the linebackers drifting back ... he decided to stick with the run.

“Blue, nineteen!
Blue
, nineteeeeen. Hut
-hut
!”

The linemen smashed into each other. Quentin pushed hard off his right foot, stepping back with his left as he reached the ball toward Ju. The running back’s arms violently snapped down. Bud-O, Sho-Do and Kill-O pushed forward, their multi-jointed legs driving them into their white-jerseyed, chrome-facemasked opponents. Kill-O knocked his defender aside, then gathered and
expanded
faster than Quentin had ever seen. The Krakens guard slammed into Taliaferro, knocking him backward. Ju followed Vu-Ko’s block. Chaka the Brutal crashed into Ju and wrapped him up, but Ju twisted his hips and kept his big legs pumping — Chaka fell away. Santa Cruz came in hard for a touchdown-saving, head-on hit: Ju lowered his head and shoulders and bowled her over before strolling into the end zone for the score.

Ionath 27, Isis 7.

The crowd roared. The Ionath City dome far above turned Krakens orange.

Ju stood tall, held his arms straight out and tilted his head back like an actor taking a curtain call. Quentin and his teammates jogged to the running back, slapping his shoulder pads or helmet, congratulating him on the touchdown.

Ju grinned at Quentin.

“Q, this is so easy, it’s like stealing. I hope the rest of the season is just like this.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Quentin said. “There’s still a quarter to play in this one, so let’s just take care of business.”

Ju rolled his eyes. The Ice Storm had managed one long pass for a TD when Katzembaum Weasley, the Krakens free safety, got burned by Isis receiver Angoon for an 80-yard strike. Other than that, John Tweedy and the defense had shut the Ice Storm down. Isis QB Paul Infante had been sacked six times; he looked as battered and bloody as someone on the losing end of a street fight.

Quentin and Ju came off the field to the praise of their teammates. Everyone was happy, even Hokor — at least, as happy as the surly little Leader could be, which wasn’t very much.