Scott Sigler - The Rookie

“The silent treatment? That’s what the Death fans do for every home game. Kind of cool, isn’t it?”

Quentin nodded absently. “Yeah, kind of cool.”

“Well it doesn’t last long, so get ready — ”

Yitzhak’s words were cut off by an instant and all-encompassing roar from over 133,000 fans, a roar so abrupt and total it felt like a physical blow. The Orbiting Death players took the field, resplendent in their flat-black uniforms with metalflake-red numbers and blue trim. Stadium lights gleamed off their metalflake red helmets, each decorated with a flat black circle.

“Wow,” Quentin said. “That’s pretty impressive.”

Yitzhak nodded. “They really put on a show. It’s all a head game, and they’ve got over a hundred-thousand fans playing along perfectly with the script.”

“Yeah,” Quentin said. “Just a head game.” He hoped Yitzhak didn’t see that the “head game” had registered an impact. The roar-to-silence-to-roar definitely unnerved him. For a second, he was happy that Pine would be taking the first snap and not him.

But it was a brief second.

THE ORBITING DEATH wasted no time showing why they were tied for first place — that reason being running back Ju Tweedy. At 6-foot-9, 385 pounds and with a 40-yard dash time of 3.6, John Tweedy’s younger brother was a Human wrecking ball. Add to those stats a few more: he had a vertical leap of 64 inches, could squat 1,500 pounds and could knock out 47 reps on the standard 300-pound bench press test.

Virak the Mean, Choto the Bright and, of course, John Tweedy, had been waiting weeks for this moment, waiting to show the league their mettle, but Quentin wondered if they now wished they’d just stayed home. The three linebackers brought the house on every tackle, but through the first quarter he had yet to see Ju knocked backward. “The Mad Ju,” as he was called in the papers, rumbled into the hole, lowered his thick head like a medieval battering ram, and plowed forward with great pain and suffering to all those that stood in his way.

Death quarterback Ganesha Fritz wasn’t the greatest signal-caller in the galaxy, but he provided exactly what the Death needed — short, accurate passes to keep the linebackers from constantly keying on Ju. The Death utilized a simple strategy: hold onto the ball, pass when the linebackers cheated up, and keep giving the rock to Ju.

By the end of the first quarter, The Mad Ju had racked up 52 yards on 7 carries, with one phenomenal 12-yard TD run in which he broke tackle attempts by Mai-An-Ihkole at the line of scrimmage, John Tweedy at the 9, Choto at the 6 and Berea at the 1. Well, Quentin couldn’t exactly call that last one a “broken tackle,” because all Berea really did was get in front of Ju and then get run over. That last hit drew roars of approval from the crowd. It also broke Berea’s left leg. Tiburon filled the cornerback spot while Doc tended to the wounded Sklorno defender.

“They’ll keep pounding on him,” Yitzhak said, referring to the linebackers’ never-ending suicide assaults on Ju. “He’s got one weakness — he can’t hold onto the pellet.”

Quentin nodded at this wisdom, but wondered that if a fumble ever did occur, would there be anything left of Choto, Virak or John Tweedy to jump on it?

Ju’s performance seemed to inspire Mitchell Fayed, who ran like a man possessed. Fans of the running game were not disappointed by the Krakens vs. the Orbiting Death. And it was a good thing that Fayed ran so well, because Donald Pine was simply not his usual self. By the end of the first quarter, the two-time champ, the King of the Short Game, was 5-for-12 for 27 yards.

Quentin watched him. Watched him carefully.

Is he tanking, or just playing bad ? Quentin found himself trying to give Pine the benefit of the doubt, but his eyes told him a different story. The Death’s defensive secondary just didn’t seem that impressive. Hawick and Scarborough looked open several times, but Pine’s passes either fell short, or were never thrown at all.

With each possession, Quentin’s anger grew.

Possession #1: A run, one incomplete pass, a sack — three-and-out.

Possession #2: Sacked on third-and-long.

Possession #3: Two completions, three incompletions, punt.

Possession #4: Three straight completions, then an interception.

Possession #5: Two strong runs, then a sack and a fumble — Death’s ball.

“Jesus,” Yitzhak said quietly. “Three sacks already. Pine never gets sacked. And he never fumbles. We’re in some deep doo-doo, my friend.”

Quentin kept watching. If it was a tank, as soon as the Death got up by two or three scores, Pine would strike to make it close.

As the second quarter dragged on, The Mad Ju ripped off a 28-yard TD run, putting the Death up 17-0. Richfield returned the following kick to the Krakens’ 12, but Quentin had eyes only for Pine.

If he’s tanking, he’ll come back strong to make it look good.

Pine dropped back on the first snap. He planted — no busy feet this time, he stood tall in the pocket like some heroic statue.

“She’s open!” Yitzhak’s excited voice called to Quentin’s right, but Quentin just watched Pine. A defensive lineman, the same one who already had two sacks, closed in, gathering up for a perfect blind-side blast on Pine’s back.

“Take them deep!” Yitzhak screamed.

Pine cocked back and let the ball fly — he didn’t have Quentin’s strength, but there was nothing weak about the throw. The ball shot downfield…

But Quentin watched Pine. The lineman closed in, only a half-second behind the throw, expanding violently for a blindside shot.

Pine took one small step forward. The lineman shot past to fall in a clumsy, sliding heap on the ground.

Pine, you tanking jerk.

That same lineman, making that same blindside approach, had earlier racked up two sacks. Yet this time, Pine had slipped by as if he had eyes in the back of his head.

Not eyes in the back of his head , Quentin thought. He just knows where every player is at all times. After watching Pine up close and personal for six weeks, Quentin knew the veteran was letting those sacks happen. Pine was so good, so unbelievably in control of this game that he could choreograph a tanking without anyone suspecting. After all, what quarterback can dodge a blindside sack, right?

Donald Pine. That’s who.

The crowd booed deeply as Hawick crossed the goal line for an 88-yard touchdown. Yitzhak ran onto the field for the extra point as Pine ran off. Quentin’s anger rose another ten degrees, then popped , almost audibly.

Quentin met Pine on the sidelines.

“Nice pass you piece of garbage,” Quentin said.

Pine just nodded and kept walking towards the bench.

“Hey, loser , I’m talking to you!” Quentin grabbed Pine’s shoulder pad and whipped him around. Pine’s eyes went wide with surprise, then narrowed with anger.

“Leave me alone,” Pine said.

“You throw two more TDs and I’ll leave you alone, you coward. ” Quentin pointed his finger straight at Pine’s nose. Other players turned to watch the confrontation.

“Shut up, kid,” Pine said. “I’ve got a game to play.”

“A game? Is that what you call it?”

Pine stepped forward, going chest-to-chest and nose-to-nose with Quentin.

“You wanna make a move, rookie? Then make it now!”

Quentin cocked his left fist and started to swing, but was jerked away by strong Human hands. Quentin’s anger soared to a new level. He twisted and threw a hard left cross at this new foe. His fist smashed into Mitchell Fayed’s jaw. Fayed’s head snapped back and to his left. He slowly turned his head back to look into Quentin’s eyes, working his jaw from side to side.