Scott Sigler - The Rookie

Quentin quickly looked at Yassoud, who nodded nervously. Quentin got on one knee, and still had to lean down to look straight into Hokor’s one big eye. He’d never seen a Quyth Leader — or any other alien, for that matter — this close up. Hokor’s eye wasn’t really clear, but a translucent light blue, filled with hundreds of green discs in a tight geometrical pattern. His fur was thick, each strand much thicker than a Human hair. The most disturbing physical aspect was the pedipalps, quivering things on either side of the mouth, as coordinated and well-developed as a Human arm. Quentin kept his cool, but it surprised him to feel the grip of a lifetime of Purist Nation teachings. Most of his people would be screaming right now, either with pure terror or righteous, murderous rage. He mostly viewed those people with contempt, so it shocked Quentin that he felt both emotions stirring up from somewhere so deep in his subconscious he hadn’t even known they existed.

But Quentin was on a mission. And his pure, unstoppable desire to play football at the highest levels ran far stronger than programmed ideology.

“As soon as practice starts, nobody is going to be there to stop him,” Hokor said. “You had better be ready to complete the offensive play when three of those things are coming at you, hoping to maim you, or if they get in a good shot just kill you outright.”

Quentin smiled. “Just give me the ball, Coach.”

Hokor’s antennae quivered once, then fell flat. “We’ll see, rookie.” He walked to the airlock door. “Krakens rookies, come aboard.”

DAN:Welcome back, sports fans, Dan Gianni here with Akbar Smith and our own football-legend-in-residence, Tarat the Smasher.

TARAT:Thanks, Dan.

DAN:So what are we going to talk about today?

AKBAR:As if there’s any question.

DAN:Baseball season is almost over, and to tell you the truth, with four player strikes in the past ten seasons, I really don’t think anyone gives a damn. It’s so boring!

AKBAR:I still like baseball.

DAN:Like I said, no one gives a damn. Intergalactic Soccer Association season is coming up, but that’s a little boring as well.

TARAT:Good sport, but the Sklorno have completely taken it over.

AKBAR:There are 1,012 players in that league, and all of them are Sklorno.

DAN:You can’t fight speed, not in soccer. But we all know one sport that caters to all species, and that’s only one week away.

TARAT:Nothing like finishing up Tier One football and rolling right into Tier Two.

DAN:That’s right, sports fans, we’re talking Tier Two football. The Jupiter Jacks captured the Tier One crown last week, with a thrilling 21–20 Galaxy Bowl win over the To Pirates. Don’t the rookies arrive in camp today?

AKBAR:That’s right, Dan. You know how I hate this system — the rookies only have one week in camp before the first game.

TARAT:But there is no way around that.

DAN:I know there’s no way around it, but it still sucks. I mean, some of these guys were playing in championship games only a few days ago!

TARAT:Trust me, not one of them is complaining.

DAN:Sure, no argument there, but take Quentin Barnes, for example, the quarterback of the Micovi Raiders of the PNFL. I mean he played the PNFL championship only a week ago, and in seven days he’ll line up for his first Tier Two game with the Ionath Krakens. That’s crazy!

AKBAR:What makes you think he’ll play a down? He’ll ride the bench for the first half of the season like most of the rookies.

DAN:You think? The Krakens have to get someone at quarterback who can win games.

AKBAR:Were you dropped on your head repeatedly as a child? Have you ever heard of the Krakens’ quarterback, some guy named Donald Pine?

DAN:He’s all washed up. He can’t win the big games.

AKBAR:He won two Galaxy Bowls!

DAN:Ancient history. He has choked in every big game in the past two seasons for the Krakens.

AKBAR:And you think some rookie is the answer?

DAN:Probably not, we all know quarterbacks from the Purist Nation don’t last. But Barnes probably doesn’t have to do much to be better than Donald Pine is right now.

AKBAR:You’ve got to be kidding me.

DAN:Look at the games, will ya? Last year the Krakens went 6–3 and missed the playoffs with a week-nine loss to Orbiting Death. Pine throws four interceptions. He gets pulled, and the number-two quarterback, Tre Peterson, dies four plays later. Pine goes back in and throws another interception.

AKBAR:Okay so that’s one game.

DAN:What about two seasons ago? Krakens kill eventual league champ Sala Intrigue 48–24. But they drop four games to teams with a combined record of 13–23. All of those games were upsets — Pine couldn’t win the games he’s supposed to win.

AKBAR:He’s not the only guy on the field, Dan.

DAN:Of course not. But look at Pine’s record since he won that last Galaxy Bowl back in 2676. You know how this game works — the blame falls on the quarterback. If it wasn’t for Mitchell Fayed, the Krakens would be nothing.

TARAT:I played against Fayed before I retired. That is the toughest Human I’ve ever seen. You hit him and hit him, and he just gets up and smiles.

DAN:That’s why they call him The Machine. Number forty-seven just keeps on running.

AKBAR:Can we get back on the subject of Donald Pine?

DAN:Look, Pine’s still a great quarterback, but in some games he just flat-out chokes.

AKBAR:So again, you’re going on record saying Quentin Barnes is the answer?

DAN:I didn’t say that. He’s a rookie. And a Purist Nation rookie at that. He’s never been hit by a Ki lineman, and never faced a blitz from a Quyth Warrior. If he lasts one season I’ll be surprised. Pine will start, as usual, Pine will lose the big games, as usual, and the Krakens will flail about in the middle of the pack, as usual.

THE SHUTTLE DISENGAGED from the airlock and shot away from the Combine. It felt cramped inside the small vehicle, which probably would have seated twelve Humans comfortably. The prone form of Mum-O-Killowe took up half the floor. The rest of the rookies took whatever seats they could find.

Within minutes, they approached the Touchback. It was only half the size of the starliner that had brought him from Micovi, yet much larger than Quentin had thought it would be. Perhaps an eighth of a mile long, over half the ship consisted of a clear dome covering a full-sized practice field, 100 yards long with 10-yard end zones, one painted orange, one painted black. Eighteen decks rose up all around the field, as if engineers had scooped out a large section of ship, put down the field, then sealed everything off with the clear dome. It seemed that from every deck, one would be only a short walk from a view of the practice field.

A large engine assembly sat behind the black end zone. The passenger decks, bridge and other ship constructs were on the opposite side, behind the orange end zone. Instead of the sleek, eye-pleasing lines of a passenger liner, the Touchback bore the blocky profile of a distinctly military vehicle. As the shuttle drew closer, Quentin recognized the tell-tale mounted spheres of weapon assemblies.