Scott Sigler - The Rookie

“Okay,” Quentin said. “Let’s go.”

They walked inside. Quentin couldn’t help but think of the parallels to the last time he’d been here. Messal led the way this time instead of Tikad the Groveling. Virak was with Quentin once again, but this time they were side-by-side.

The bar was empty. Somehow Quentin knew it would be. They walked past the dance floor and into the back room.

Gredok sat comfortably in Mopuk’s chair. Two Quyth Warriors Quentin didn’t recognize stood on either side of him, each holding a gun.

“Hello, Quentin,” Gredok said. “I think you remember Mopuk.” Gredok gestured to the table. The strange, insect-like creatures filled one half of the table, separated from the other end by a glowing force field. The bugs kept running at the force field, and were constantly thrown backwards by some small shock. After every blast, they ran forward again, only to be shocked again. Inside the other end lay Mopuk, bound tight. His eye glowed the bright, neon pink of pure terror.

“Of course I remember him,” Quentin said.

“I’m not happy with you, Quentin,” Gredok said. “You or your teammates.”

Quentin just looked at Gredok. He wasn’t about to volunteer any information.

“You used my team to smuggle a large shipment of goods,” Gredok said. “I don’t want that to happen again.”

Quentin nodded.

“I’ve learned that Donald Pine was throwing games. My games.”

“I doubt it,” Quentin said. “He’s a great quarterback.”

“Don’t lie to me. Your body heat and pulse tell me when you’re lying.”

Gredok’s fur raised slightly. Quentin had seen Hokor angry, all puffed up like a fur ball, but Gredok’s fur had always lain flat and smooth.

“The problem has been solved,” Quentin said calmly. “We took care of it as a team.”

“You solved nothing. ” Gredok pointed to Mopuk. “This, this yakochat caused my team to lose.”

“I’m sorry, Shamakath !” Mopuk screamed. “Please, give me a chance to make it up to you!”

“Be quiet.”

“But Shamakath , I swear, it was a mistake — ”

Gredok’s pedipalp reached for a small button built into the tabletop, Mopuk instantly fell silent.

“This weak one has already told me everything,” Gredok said. “So do not lie to me again, Quentin. Was Pine throwing games?”

Quentin thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Was this one responsible for that?” Gredok asked, his other pedipalp tapping on the glass, right next to the button.

Quentin nodded again.

Gredok pressed the button.

The force field dissipated. The ever-attacking bug-like creatures swarmed over Mopuk, covering his legs and stomach in the blink of an eye. He started to scream as the living carpet swept up his chest and onto his face — but the scream choked as dozens crawled into his mouth. His jaws clamped shut, sending quirts of yellow bug blood against the inner glass. His mouth stayed shut only a second — he opened it to scream again, and more poured into the opening. He jerked and thrashed against his bindings, his body lurching against the strong glass, smashing more of the creatures against the smooth surface, streaking it with blobs of dripping yellow and bits of crushed body parts. The table shook with his jerking pain, but did not break.

He’s shrinking , Quentin thought for a second, then realized the bugs were draining Mopuk of fluid, like a swarm of demonic mosquitoes.

His kicks and lurches slowed.

He had one more panicked burst of twitches, then he slowed again.

And finally stopped.

The bugs kept swarming over him, a shimmering bodysuit of living death.

“That is what happens to those who betray me,” Gredok said. He looked quite satisfied with himself. “If you keep information from me again, I will be angry. But for now, I am pleased with your resourcefulness. I think you handled the situation much as I would have. You will be the starter this week against the Survivors. I am not happy with my bodyguard, who abandoned his main duties in favor of his place on the team. Virak will perform ghiris as an example to others in my organization.”

“Ghiris?”

The pinkness deepened in Virak’s eye.

“It is a ritualistic suicide,” he said. “I will kill myself while the others watch to prove my loyalty to my Shamakath. ”

“Kill yourself? Are you nuts? Come on Gredok, he didn’t know you’d be this mad, he was just trying to help the team!”

Gredok said nothing.

“I knew exactly what would happen if we were discovered,” Virak said quietly. “I knew the consequences, and I am prepared to pay the price.”

Quentin stared, first at Virak, then at Gredok, then back. Virak had known helping Pine might bring about his own death, yet he helped anyway.

The temper starting to burn at the back of his brain, Quentin turned to Gredok. “And what about Pine?”

“Pine will suffer a fate similar to Mopuk.”

“No,” Quentin said.

Gredok looked at him. “Are you refusing my orders?”

“Yes,” Quentin said. “I am a football player. Donald Pine is a football player. Virak is a football player.”

“Those two betrayed me.”

“I don’t give a crap what they did. They are my teammates.”

“Did you not hear me?” Gredok said. “I said you’re the starter. These two don’t concern you.”

“Virak stays on the team,” Quentin said. “Pine stays on the team. No one dies.”

Gredok leaned forward. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your Shamakath , you insolent Human.”

“You are the team owner,” Quentin said. “You are not my Shamakath. ”

Gredok’s fur ruffled out to full length. He looked like a little black puffball.

“Don’t bother getting all pissy,” Quentin said. “You do anything to Pine, or Virak dies, and I walk. Do you understand what that means?”

“You walk? You quit ? Do you think I can’t get another quarterback?”

“Not like me you can’t, baby,” Quentin said, slowly shaking his head from side-to-side. “There isn’t anyone like me and you know it. Never was. Never will be. And I walk now , Greedy, right this second. That means your starter against the Quyth Survivors is Yitzhak. You think Yitzhak can win that game?”

“Yes he can,” Gredok said. “The Survivors are 3–5, we can beat them without you. ”

Quentin nodded. “Maybe. But can he win in the playoffs? Can he beat the Texas Earthlings? Can he beat the undefeated Chillich Spider-Bears?”

Gredok’s eye turned a deep, iridescent black.

“You remember the playoffs,” Quentin said. “That thing we need to win to reach Tier One? Don’t you want to win Tier One?”

Gredok’s pedipalps trembled. “You smelly Human. You don’t even really understand who you’re talking to.”

“Sure I do,” Quentin said. “I’m talking to the team owner. I’m not in your mob, Gredok. I’m a football player. I’m not disrespecting you in any way, I promise you that. I’m telling you the way it’s going to be with my team, or I catch the first liner back to Purist Nation space.”

“And what if I put you inside this table right now?”

Quentin shrugged. “I would die a miserable death, but you know what? You still lose. You don’t reach Tier One. It’s that simple. So here’s the deal. Pine plays. Virak plays. In fact, Virak is so good, why don’t you get some of the other monkey-boys to do your muscle work? He needs to concentrate on the Survivors, and on the tournament. It’s your call, Greedy. What’s it going to be?”

Gredok’s eye swirled black-hole black, then slowly faded to clear. He stared for another full minute, then finally spoke.