The Champion (6 page)

He could only imagine how crazy the city of Hittoni must have been right after the game. The teammates in the truck had missed all of that, because they’d been there for him, watching the holo from Fred and Jeanine, then consoling him, then plotting with him, then sneaking out of the city before Gredok found out what was going on. His friends were joining him on a long journey that could put all their lives at risk.

Quentin had to say something.

“I, uh ... I really appreciate this. What you’re doing for me, for my sister ... I can’t thank you enough.”

Simple nods or grunts of acknowledgement were all the answer he got. Except for the two Sklorno onboard, of course.

“Adventure!” Milford said.

Denver hopped up and down, her amazing balance making her impervious to the truck’s random turns.

“
Love-love-love
,” she said. “Godling-sibling and Quentin and love and
love-
love!”

Maybe the two receivers didn’t really understand the danger involved, but everyone else did. Quentin saw Becca looking at him. He met her gaze. She smiled.

“Don’t worry, Quentin,” she said. “We’ll find Jeanine.”

The others looked down at the floor. They didn’t share Becca’s high hopes. They all thought Fred and Jeanine were dead, and yet they were coming along anyway.

He would have done the same for any of them, done it without a thought, but they were doing it for
him
. He couldn’t process it. It made him blush, made him feel embarrassed.

Quentin caught himself as the truck suddenly angled up sharply, then leveled out, then stopped. He heard new noises from outside the truck’s thin walls — the heavy hydraulic whine of blast doors shutting. The truck’s rear door rolled up. There stood Manny Sayed and a thick Human wearing grunge-spotted coveralls. Beyond them was the dinged and dented loading bay of what looked to be a cargo ship. Just behind Manny lay a pile of stuffed black canvas duffle bags.

“Welcome aboard the
Burly Brown
” Manny said. He tilted his head toward the crewmember. “This is ... wait, what happened to your tooth?”

Quentin had tuned out the stinging sensation.

“Lost it in the game.”

“I saw you
after
the game,” Manny said. “You still had it then.”

Quentin shrugged. “I slipped in the locker room. You were saying?”

Manny patted the crewmember on the back. “This is Captain Nilson. He’s agreed to take you where you’re going.”

Nilson nodded. “Mister Barnes, happy to have you aboard. We’re not a passenger ship, so I need to know you’ll make sure you and yours understand who is in charge here.”

“And that would be you?”

Nilson nodded again. “The one and only. I’m responsible for our regular cargo and the safety of my crew. I call the shots, understood?”

“Sure,” Quentin said. “We’ll behave.”

Nilson leaned close to Manny and whispered something.

Manny nodded. “That’s fine.”

Without another word, Nilson walked off.

Quentin started to climb out of the truck, but Manny held up a hand.

“Not all of you can come,” he said. “This ship is under Purist Nation registry. Since it will be going through the Purist Nation to get to your rendezvous point, it could be stopped and boarded by system police at any time. I tried to arrange an interspecies ship but could not on such short notice.”

Quentin realized there were only six duffel bags in that pile. He felt saddened and partially relieved at the same time; at least some of his friends would live to see the next season.

“Bummer,” John said. He hopped out of the truck.

“Mega-bummer,” Ju said, and did the same.

Choto started to get out, but Quentin stopped him.

“It’s a Purist ship, Choto,” Quentin said. “That means only Human crew.”

Manny pointed to Kimberlin. “The HeavyG, he can come. I’ve already arranged transportation to the
Touchback
for the rest them.”

Choto’s clear cornea instantly swirled with black. “There is room on this ship for me.” He glared at Manny. “There is room for me to come along and protect Quentin.”

The Warrior wasn’t asking a question, he was issuing an order. Issuing a
threat
, more accurately. Choto was already so much bigger and taller than Manny; from the back of the truck, the linebacker looked like a god of war that might step down and kill Manny with one chitinous foot.

Quentin put a hand on the Warrior’s middle arm.

“Choto, take it easy. It’s not up to Manny.”

“It is,” Choto said. “I promise you, Quentin, this ship can smuggle sentients as well as cargo. If we are stopped and searched by Purist Nation system police, there is a place to put me so I won’t be found. Correct me if I am wrong, Elder Sayed.”

The fat man was starting to sweat.

“Well, we might have room for
one
sub ... I mean, one non-Human.” He looked at Quentin, his eyes pleading. “But
only
one, I give you my word.”

“I thought so,” Choto said.

Quentin looked down at Manny, looked
hard
, judged him, decided the businessman was telling the truth — there was room for one non-Human only.

“Choto, you have to stay,” Quentin said. He pointed to Doc Patah. “Doc, get out. You’re coming with us.”

The Harrah fluttered from the truck. Choto’s swirled with purple. That color could mean confusion or anguish — in this instance, it probably meant both.

“Quentin, I
must
come,” Choto said. “This mission is dangerous. You need me there with you.”

Not that long ago, it seemed, Gredok had ordered a reluctant Choto to act as Quentin’s bodyguard. The Warrior’s loyalties had gradually shifted until he declared Quentin as his
shamakath
, his leader — not Gredok. John, Ju and the others were coming on this trip because of love and loyalty, sure, but for Choto, protecting his
shamakath
was in his DNA, was the focal point of a Warrior’s reason for being.

The hard call
. Deciding who to cut from the squad, sending Yitzhak off the field in favor of Becca ... sometimes the needs of the situation won out over loyalty, over raw emotion. Quentin would never get used to making calls like this — but it had to be done.

“Choto, we’re going after my sister and Fred,” he said. “If they’re injured, having Doc along could be the difference between life and death. Not just for them, but for the rest of us as well.”

The swirls on Choto’s cornea expanded, quickened, flooding his eye a deep purple. He was devastated.

Doc Patah fluttered back, a brave gesture considering Choto’s agitated state.

“There is also the issue of Quentin’s finger,” the Harrah said. “That ridiculous missing tooth I can fix easily, but I need to monitor his finger and prep it for replacement — although not while on
this
filthy ship, I assure you — or it could mean long-term complications for his nervous system. If Quentin is to play quarterback next season, Choto, I need to get at his hand as soon as possible. Waiting for him to return could be too late.”

The fight seemed to drain out of Choto. His body sagged.

“I understand,” he said.

The Warrior shuffled to the back of the truck, pushed past Milford and Denver, sat heavily next to Tara the Freak. The misshapen Tara hadn’t even stood up, but he seemed agitated. Mum-O still lay on the floor; as far as Quentin could tell, the Ki hadn’t moved a muscle.

Quentin stepped down out of the truck and onto the ship’s deck. There were dozens of ground trucks already aboard, dinged and dirty, parked in neat rows. The cargo hold itself looked filthy, speckled with rust, chipped paint and even globs of grease that seemed to serve no purpose.

Manny grinned. “A far cry from the Touchback’s spotless shuttle bay, eh, Quentin? The
Burly Brown
is a cargo container ship — not quite as fancy as you’re used to.”

Quentin looked around the dingy hold. Dirty, but orderly and efficient.

“I don’t care how it looks,” he said. “All I care about is that it’s punch-capable and can get us where we need to go.”

“Actually, the
Brown
isn’t punch-capable,” Manny said. “It will reach orbit around Wilson 6, where it will dock in an open slot of the
Fast Prince Somdet
, a cargo supercarrier, which has slots for forty-five cargo container ships.
Somdet
runs a regular route between planets. When a container ship reaches its destination, it disembarks, delivers its payload, picks up a new shipment, then returns to dock in another supercarrier for the next leg. It’s cheaper for the individual ships to pay a part of a punch recharge than to have punch-drives of their own.”

Manny gestured to the lines of tightly packed trucks. “The
Burly Brown
is delivering a fleet of used ground trucks, among other cargo, to Mason in the Purist Nation. That’s where Messal told me to send you.”

Quentin had been to Mason many times in his PNFL career. One of his home system’s four major planets, it was the farthest one away from the galactic core. If Bumberpuff wanted a rendezvous point on the edge of civilization, Mason fit the bill nicely. There were no known routes from Mason into the Cloud, at least none that didn’t take days and pass through the territory of multiple governments, but Quentin knew Bumberpuff must have a plan to account for that. Another route, perhaps — maybe one only known to the Prawatt.

“You and your friends must stay in this vessel for the entire trip,” Manny said. “I know you need to remain anonymous, so don’t let your people — especially the Tweedy brothers — exit onto the
Somdet
. I’ve paid the
Burly’s
crew to stay quiet about who is on board, but the
Somdet
crew is another story. They’ll recognize GFL players, and word will get out.”

Quentin nodded. If word got out, that word would undoubtedly reach Gredok.

Becca and George hopped down, stood next to Quentin. Denver and Milford also exited, graceful and light-footed as ever. They leaned forward, just about to start a sprint around the loading bay, when Quentin scooted in front of them.

“Hold on, ladies — you have to go to the
Touchback
with Choto, Tara and Mum-O.”

“Adventure?” Denver said. “Fun-fun-fun?”

“Kill-kill, fight-fight?” Milford said. “Go team?”

Quentin shook his head. “Not this time. Go to your home planets, enjoy the time off. I’ll see you in training camp when the preseason hits.”

Denver’s eyestalks twitched, two of them looking at Quentin, two at Milford.

“
Ohhhhhhhhh
,” Denver said. “I understand. The godling wishes us to return to Dynasty space to spread the godling’s gospel.”

Milford started prancing in place. “Yes!
Love-love-love
to spread the gospel of Quentin Barnes Quentin Barnes Quentin Barnes
QuentinBarnes
!”

Quentin didn’t need this, not now. Explaining what he really meant might take hours, and he didn’t have hours.

“Whatever,” he said. “I’ll see you when this is over.”

When the Sklorno got back into the truck, Tara the Freak got out. The Warrior ignored Quentin, walked to Crazy George Starcher.

“George, you should come back with me,” Tara said.

Crazy George smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t football,” Tara said. “This isn’t one of your ... your
visions
. Your life will be in danger.”

George nodded. “I know what it means, my friend. I’d be dead already if it wasn’t for Quentin and for you. Debts like that can only be repaid in kind.”

Tara shot a glance at Quentin. A distrusting, suspicious, one-eyed glance. Did Tara think Quentin was
using
the others? Maybe the only reason the Freak had come along was to protect
George
, not help Quentin find his sister.

Tara turned back to his friend. “Do what you have to do, George. And remember to take your meds.”

“I will,” George said.

Tara returned to the truck. He stopped next to Quentin, spoke quietly so only Quentin could hear.

“Make sure he comes back in one piece,” the Warrior said quietly. “If you don’t, you’ll answer to me. And he
never
remembers to take his meds — you make sure that he does.”

Tara kept his cornea clear of all color, but Quentin sensed the anger pouring off him. The Warrior couldn’t hide all of his tells — Quentin had become too skilled at detecting emotions for that.

“I’ll make sure,” Quentin said. “Everyone is coming back safe. I promise.”

Tara’s long pedipalps twitched. He didn’t believe Quentin. The Warrior climbed into the truck.

Quentin turned to Manny. “I guess we’re all set. Thank you.”

“Then I’ll leave you to your folly,” Manny said. He pointed at the Tweedy brothers, who were busy scooping grease globs off the floor and flinging them at each other, laughing like little kids. Becca watched them, shaking her head in amazement.

Manny sighed. “Cargo container A-113 is full of beer. I hope it’s enough to keep those idiots occupied.”

“They’re my brothers,” Quentin said. “Don’t call them
idiots
.”

A voice over the cargo ship’s speakerfilm drew Quentin’s attention.

“
This is Captain Nilson. If our fancy new guests could kindly make their way to the crew lounge, we’ll be underway. The loading deck is a working area, and we are working. Stay out of our way and we’ll have no problems
.”

“The crew lounge is small, but it’s yours for the trip,” Manny said. He bowed. “I will take my leave. Whatever your quest, Quentin, I wish you luck.”

He closed the truck’s rear door, moving with a precision that showed he hadn’t always been a fat, rich man. Once upon a time, Manny Sayed had worked for a living. He walked to the truck’s passenger door, artificial foot
clonking
in time. He climbed in. The
Burly’s
loading ramp lowered only long enough for the truck to drive out, then rose again, sealing the ship tight.