Scott Sigler - The Rookie

Quentin watched with mixed emotions. He knew he could have used his speed and mobility to avoid the defense. Each time Pine went down, Quentin felt a smug satisfaction that Hokor was sleeping in the bed he had made for himself. Yet at the same time, Quentin wanted to win — when Pine threw a completion, he found himself hissing “yes!” between clenched teeth. Pine kept getting knocked down, knocked down hard , and he kept getting back up. Slower each time, it seemed, but he refused to stay down.

The game was a real nail-biter, but Hokor seemed to have things under control. Up 23–17 with 1:41 to play, ball on the Krakens’ 32, Hokor relied on running plays to Mitchell “The Machine” Fayed. sFrom the sidelines, Quentin saw where he got his nickname. The punishing Hydra defense brought it all against Fayed, delivering big-time hit after big-time hit. Yet after each bone-crushing impact, some so devastating they made other players wince just from watching, Fayed simply popped up and ran back to the huddle. He smashed into the line again and again, dishing out as many hits as he took.

Paul Pierson, Fayed’s backup, had also seen several carries. Quentin hadn’t been that impressed, and wondered if Yassoud could do better.

On second-and-six, Pine dropped back and stood tall in the pocket. Wichita, the defensive back, lined up over Hawick, took two steps back as if in pass coverage, then came full speed on a blindside blitz.

As Pine checked through his receivers, Wichita closed the fifteen-yard distance in only two seconds, a white-red-yellow blur of speed. Pine saw the blitz at the last second and fired a pass to Fayed in the flat, just before Wichita dove at Pine’s legs. Even from the sidelines, despite the roar of another 185,000-plus capacity crowd, Quentin heard the snap.

Wichita hit Pine at the thigh, seemingly bending him in half and driving him to the side. His orange-colored leg armor split into two pieces and spun away like large chunks of shrapnel. The two players hit the ground, Wichita on top, Pine already howling in pain. As Wichita rolled off, Pine’s hands flew to his thigh. His leg suddenly seemed to have an extra joint — the thigh flopped sickeningly halfway between the hip and the knee, more like a Ki’s leg than a Human’s. At this new, unnatural joint, his cool-suit stuck out at a weird angle. A growing circle of bright blood stained the microtubule fabric.

Whistles blew as Harrah refs swarmed to the downed quarterback. Doc flew out onto the field, the medsled stretcher automatically following slowly behind. A hush fell over the crowd as Pine rolled to one side, then the next, clutching his leg, his face a scrunched-up vision of agony.

As Doc reached Pine, Quentin noticed the Sklorno players trembling on the field. Not the excited trembling he’d seen before, but something else, something disturbing. They huddled together, Kraken and Hydra both, raspers linked like a pile of entangled snakes. All but Wichita, who stood a few yards away from Pine. Her tentacle-arms were spread out to her sides, and her eyes looked up to the sky. Quentin didn’t know what to make of the strange behavior.

Doc put a small device to Pine’s neck. One second later Pine stopped moving. Thin wires snaked out from the gravsled, sliding under Pine and lifting him up off the ground. With Pine dangling motionless underneath, the medsled glided noiselessly off the field towards the end-zone tunnel, Doc flying gracefully by its side.

“Barnes,” Hokor called loudly.

Quentin blinked a few times, not sure if he’d heard right. He was benched. Yitzhak would be going in, not him.

“ Barnes !”

Quentin pulled on his helmet as he ran to the coach. Without being told, he knelt on one knee so he could look Hokor in the eye. Hokor put a pedipalp on Quentin’s shoulder and drew him close.

“Barnes, we’re in a bad spot. We need to play for field position and let our defense win this thing, you understand?”

Quentin nodded vigorously.

“You run the plays that I call, and we’ll win this game.”

Quentin nodded again.

“If we have to pass, they’re going to come hard. That’s why I need you now, Yitzhak can’t scramble the way you can. R-set, dive right, tell Fayed to get that first down.”

Quentin stood and ran onto the field. The crowd roared approval, but he didn’t hear them. A glance at the scoreboard told him Fayed had picked up five yards on the last play, making it third-and-one. He felt like he was floating instead of running. He reached the huddle. It was different this time — all first-string players — dirty, bloody, intense and mean. This wasn’t garbage time. Every one of the ten sentients in the huddle wanted to win. They looked at him, some with suspicion, some with hope. Warburg smiled at him and gave him a quick thumbs-up.

“R-set,” Quentin said, surprised to hear his voice crack like a pubescent teenager. He cleared his throat. “R-set, dive right. We need a first down here! On two, on two, ready?”

“Break,” the huddle called in unison.

Quentin walked to the line, adrenaline racing through his body, making him feel like a vibrating holosign. The Human and Quyth linebackers looked at him like he was a mortal enemy, the Ki defensive linemen looked at him like he was a meal.

The Krakens lined up with two tight ends, Tom Pareless at fullback and Fayed at tailback. Hawick lined up wide left, Wichita only two yards off in bump-and-run coverage.

“Blue, fifteen!” Quentin’s eyes swept the defense. “Blue, fifteen!” The Hydras lined up in a 5–2 with the defensive backs up close — a run-stopping formation. The right cornerback played in tight, and the free safety was cheating up to the line. Like everyone in the stadium, they knew it was a run, that Fayed would get the ball. That was the safe thing to do, the smart thing to do. Quentin’s mind flashed a light-year a minute, calculating the positions and intended directions of each defensive player.

“Hut-hut!”

BLINK

The world around him slowed to half-speed. The ball slapped into his hands and the line exploded into a melee. Quentin pivoted for the handoff, and as he did he saw the free safety drive forward and the right cornerback come in for a run-blitz. The Hydras hoped to jam the off-tackle hole, and the cornerback would keep Fayed from bouncing to the outside. Fayed would have nowhere to run.

Quentin reached the ball back for Fayed — then at the last second, he pulled it just out of Fayed’s reach.

Fayed tried to turn, looking to the ground as if there was a fumble, but his forward momentum carried him into the line. The free safety slipped through the hole and hit Fayed at the waist. The blitzing cornerback came in fast, and saw too late that Quentin still had the ball.

Quentin tucked the ball and drove to his right. The cornerback planted her feet, but he was by her before she could change direction. As soon as he moved past her he cut up-field at an angle. The corner chased him — he’d never seen a player change direction that fast. The strong safety came at him from the defensive backfield, eliminating any cutback. The Quyth Warrior outside linebacker, number 52, Bilis the Destroyer, went into a side-roll, quickly moving back at an angle that put him in front of Quentin. Bilis popped out of his roll, suddenly on all fours, strong pedipalps sticking out and ready.

Quentin threw a head-and-shoulders juke to his left, to the inside. Bilis bought it, and Quentin instantly drove to his right, to the outside, in a cut that would leave the linebacker grasping air.

Bilis the Destroyer instantly matched the move.

No way , Quentin had time to think before Bilis leveled him, catching him under the chin and knocking his head back. Quentin’s feet flew out from under him as his body spun backwards until the back of his head smashed into the ground. He bounced once and rolled to an ungraceful stop.