Scott Sigler - The Rookie

“You’ve got that right, Masara. Let’s take a look at the Bombay Gin Halftime StatBoard. Nothing eases a Worker’s day like the tasty taste of Gin from Bombay. Hmmm, that’s tasty. ”

“Chick, you shouldn’t be drinking that in the booth.”

“Hey, now can I endorse it without sampling the product? Brady Entenabe is showing why he’s one of the top-rated passers in the Quyth Irradiated. He’s 12-of-17 for 203 and a pair of touchdowns, both to San Mateo. The Krakens’ secondary has done a good job of containing the Demolition pass attack, but gave up two big plays, a 68-yard TD strike from Entenabe to San Mateo, and another 27-yard TD that came on a crucial third-and-12 right at the end of the half. If they’d held them there, the Krakens would only be back by a touchdown.”

“Chick, what does the Krakens offense have to do to put some points on the board?”

“Well, Masara, they’ve got to do three things. First, rookie QB Quentin Barnes has to work on his footing. He’s not used to playing on this kind of surface — he’s already fallen twice on his drop-backs, slipping when he plants to step up and throw. Second, the Krakens have to start blocking. The Demo has sacked Barnes three times so far, knocked him down three more, and hurried him another four. Barnes has thrown two interceptions, both caused by heavy pass-rush pressure. If it wasn’t for his running ability, the Krakens would be worse off than they already are. Barnes has twenty-six yards on the ground on five rushing attempts, all of them scrambles. I tell ya, that Human has been chewed up like a Sklorno larvae during a famine.”

“Um, Chick, I hardly think our Sklorno viewers would appreciate that…”

“Yes you’re right there, Masara. Sorry, folks — sometimes this old game of football gets me so fired up I slip back into cute colloquialisms. No offense intended.”

“So let’s move on. We’ve got better footing, then blocking, what’s the third thing?”

“Masara, the third thing is play calling. Hokor the Hookchest is being very predictable. The Krakens are running first, throwing second, and the Demolition knows it. The only time the Krakens throw is when they have to throw, and then the Demolition brings Yalla the Biter on a blitz almost every time.”

“So why isn’t Barnes changing the plays at the line?”

“You’ve got me, Masara. The kid seems like he knows the offense very well, but either he’s afraid to change the play, or Hokor isn’t letting him audible.”

“Next up we’ll take a look at the first half highlights, brought to you by Ju-Ku-Killok Shipping. Remember, if you’ve got to ship it across the galaxy, don’t you want to ship it with a Ki? Any way you look at it, Chick, it seems something’s got to change if the Krakens are going to get back into this game.”

“You got that right, Masara. Otherwise the Krakens have about as much chance as a naked nun at a Purist Nation rapist convention.”

“Chick! Now come on—”

“Sorry Masara, sorry beings at home…”

QUENTIN HISSED ONCE as Doc wrapped the cool blue patch around the right side of his neck. He’d been tackled by the neck on the last sack, a Ki arm tearing away a good six square inches of skin. He thought he’d been in the clear, but still hadn’t accounted for how far the Ki could jump out of a gather. The right side of Quentin’s jersey was deeply stained with his own blood, and he couldn’t swallow without an explosion of throbbing pain. The patch’s sting set in immediately — it only added to his anger. Pine sat on his left, cane in hand, and Yitzhak sat on his right.

“We’ve got to execute better on first down,” Hokor told the assembled players. “We’re not getting off to a good start.”

That’s because all you want to do is hand the ball off to Fayed , Quentin thought.

“And we’ve got to start blocking on the offensive line,” Hokor said. “I don’t care what cultural crap you Ki are dealing with, but block.”

Block, that’s right, Hokor, now you’re really leading aren’t you, you pint-sized idiot.

“Defensively, we’ve got to get our coverages in sync.”

Block, crap crap crap crap this hurts.

“Entenabe is taking advantage of every blown rotation.”

Tired of getting sacked, you scumbags …

“So let’s get back to our game plan. We don’t — ”

“Game plan?” Quentin stood so suddenly his chair shot out from behind him. “The game plan is not for me to spend four quarters getting pummeled like a half-frozen round bug!”

“Barnes!” Hokor said. “Sit down and — ”

“I’m sick of it!” Quentin strode towards the Ki linemen. They sat on one side of the locker room, a huge mass of dangerous strength dressed in orange jerseys and multi-legged, orange leg armor stained white from the oily field.

“You call that blocking? You garbage-eating cowardly scumbags! Scumbags! ”

“Barnes!”

“Shut up , half-pint!” Quentin flashed a wide-eyed stare at Hokor before turning back to the Ki linemen.

Pine leaned over to Yitzhak. “He’s lost it.”

Yitzhak leaned back. “Yeah. Should we help him?”

Pine shrugged. “Naw, this is kind of fun. They’ll either block for him, or eat him, I’m not sure which.”

“You worthless losers! You’re not fit to clean the toilets in this place, you weak-willed pansys! After this game we’re gonna settle up, salamanders. Settle up with the lot of you!”

The Ki didn’t move a muscle.

Quentin turned and stormed out of the locker room, stopping along the way to kick over a water bucket and smash a chair into the wall. There was a brief silence, broken by an angry bark from Sho-Do-Thikit.

“Don’t talk threats,” Pine said. He spoke quietly, but his voice carried to every ear. When he talked, the entire team turned to look at him. “Yes he insulted you. And you deserved it. All five of you. And you all know it.”

THE THIRD QUARTER was pure torture. Quentin saw play after play where he could have audibled to a pass that would have burned the defense, but he stuck to the plays that Hokor called. Entenabe, however, didn’t seem to have such restrictions. He struck for a 24-yard TD pass at the end of the third, putting the Demolition up 21-3 going into the fourth.

The blocking, however, seemed somewhat improved. Quentin had time to set up and survey the field. He went 6-of-10 for 34 yards in the third quarter, but couldn’t string together enough passes to constitute a drive. With the extra time to set up, however, he started marking defensive nuances. Slowly but steadily, his mind began to place the Demolition defenders like a chess master marking out his opponent’s likely moves.

With 10:02 to play in the fourth, the Krakens’ “D” forced a punt, which Richfield returned to the Demolition 45. Quentin couldn’t stand it any longer. They had to score and they had to score now. He ran to Hokor.

“Coach,” Quentin said as he kneeled down. “Coach, how about letting me audible out there?”

“Just run the plays I call, Barnes.”

“But Coach, we’re losing!”

“I know that, Barnes. Now shut up, I’m going to turn you loose this time. Just do what I say, and run the plays that I call , got it?”

Quentin felt frustration welling up inside of him, but he nodded.

“We’ve run on seven of the last eight first downs,” Hokor said. “Go deep this time. Z-set, play-action, 42-fly.”

Quentin felt his pulse quicken. He ran onto the field. Z-set put two tight ends in the game, along with Fayed and Pareless, the fullback. The only receiver would be Hawick on the left flank. Bud-O-Shwek snapped it and Quentin turned to the left, stabbing the ball towards the onrushing Fayed. He pulled it away at the last second, putting the ball on his left hip and letting his right hand brush Fayed’s belly. Fayed put both arms together, just as he would if he’d been handed the ball, and smashed into the line. The Krakens hadn’t used play action all day — and the fake drew in the run-oriented defense. Quentin tucked down to hide the ball even as he dropped back. After five steps, he turned and stood…