Scott Sigler - The Rookie

A brief pause, then a barbaric roar so raw and loud it made the 250,000 being crowd sound weak by comparison. The Krakens shot out of the tunnel like the fiery breath of some legendary dragon. They raced onto the surface, which was made up of a thick, emerald-green plant marked with bright white stripes and numbers. It was finer and softer than Micovi’s Carsengi Grass.

Quentin’s mind raced, not with thoughts, but a lack of thoughts, a mental blankness created by a primitive violence that suffused his every last atom. He walked out onto the center of the field for the coin toss, Hawick on his left, John Tweedy on his right. A zebe waited at the 50-yard line, right in the middle of the multi-colored GFL logo painted on the lush green grass. On the other side of the zebe waited their enemy: Case “Hot Pepper” Johanson, the Earthlings quarterback, and Chok-Oh-Thilit, their All-Pro defensive tackle. The Earthlings wore bright-red jerseys with blue letters and silver trim, blue leg armor with silver piping, and silver helmets decorated with a blue-trimmed white star.

Johanson stared at Quentin. “What’s with the number change, boy?”

Quentin just stared back. Johanson had played three seasons of Tier One ball with the Earthlings, before their fall from grace last season down into Tier Two.

“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to wear a dead man’s number?” Johanson asked, his face twisted into a half-smile/half-sneer.

“Keep talking, douche bag,” Tweedy growled. “ You’re wearing a dead man’s number, you just don’t know it yet.”

JOHANSON THROWS LIKE A GIRL scrolled across Tweedy’s forehead.

Johanson’s sneer faded, briefly, but it faded nonetheless. The hotshot quarterback’s attentions turned from Quentin to John Tweedy, who just stared and grinned his I’m-not-quite-sane grin. Johanson didn’t say anything else.

“Krakens are the visiting team,” the zebe said, his voice amplified by the stadium loudspeakers so that it cracked like the sound of the High One himself. “Who will call the toss for the Krakens?”

“She will,” Quentin said, pointing at Hawick. She had been given that duty, and she shook with a intense fervor. Quentin didn’t understand how the coin toss factored into the Sklorno’s strange religion, but apparently it was an honor that surpassed even the cathartic thrill of catching a long touchdown pass.

“This is heads,” the zebe said, showing a metal coin with a picture of a Creterakian head. “This is tails.” He flipped the coin to show stylized planet — Creterak.

“Call it in the air,” the zebe said, and he tossed the coin.

“Heads!” Hawick screamed, more rapture than excitement. The coin bounced on the grass, flipped three times, then landed flat.

Heads.

Hawick collapsed and lay on the ground, quivering.

“Krakens win the toss,” said the zebe, echoed by the loudspeakers. “Do you wish to receive or defer?”

“We want the ball,” Quentin said.

“A stay of execution,” Tweedy said, staring straight at Johanson, who no longer looked as cocky.

Quentin and Tweedy picked up Hawick and carried her to the sidelines. Quentin let out a slow, controlled breath. He wouldn’t have long to wait — one quick kickoff, and he’d be on the field, squaring off against Chok-Oh-Thilit and the other Earthlings defenders.

“ Ohhhhhhhhhhh ,” the crowd started the low, tribal, pre-kickoff chant. Adrenaline poured through Quentin’s veins, so thick it might have spilled out of his pores and dripped onto the green grass at his feet. He tried to breath slow, but found it difficult — his breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. He blinked rapidly, gritting his teeth, waiting for the coming battle.

“OHHHHHHHHH…”

A hand on his shoulder. Donald Pine.

“Relax, kid,” Pine said, his smile easy and genuine. “We’re going to do this together. Once you get that first hit, you’ll be fine.”

Quentin nodded, then turned back to the field.

“AHHHHHHH- AH! ”

The ball sailed through the air. Richfield jogged back past the goal line, her eyes fixed on the tiny brown dot in the sky.

“Just take a knee,” Pine said, more to himself than anyone else.

The ball descended as the Krakens’ special teamers formed up into the wall.

Thunk , the ball dropped down in Richfield’s arms at the very back edge of the end zone. She looked up, hesitated for half a second, then ripped forward at a dead sprint.

“No!” Pine said.

Quentin just watched.

Earthlings “wall-breakers” smashed into the Krakens’ wedge at the 10-yard-line. Bodies flew in all directions. Richfield ran up into the wall and disappeared amongst the carnage.

“Well there goes field posi — ”

Pine’s sentence died on his lips as Richfield popped out the other side, untouched and moving at top speed. In the blink of an eye she passed the 30, then the 40 and moved across midfield.

“Well slap my face and call me Sally,” Pine said.

Sklorno Earthlings took deep angles of pursuit. Serj Tanakian, the Earthlings’ kicker, ran upfield, trying to cut down Richfield’s running angles. She ran right at him, cut once to the left, then to the right, then to the left again. Tanakian matched the first move, stumbled on the second, and fell face-first on the third.

Richfield shot by him. She sprang ten feet into the air as a Sklorno defender leapt for her feet and became the second player in a row to hit the grass empty-handed. One last red-and-blue clad Sklorno angled between Richfield and the end zone. She didn’t cut this time, she reached out a hard tentacle as the two players met at the ten, “stiff-arming” her foe. They ran side-by-side for another five yards, then the defender — knocked off balance by the stiffarm — fell to the ground.

Richfield went into the end zone standing up.

Quentin looked back downfield, but there were no flags.

[TOUCHDOWN, KRAKENS! RICHFIELD SCORES ON A IO2-YARD KICKOFF RETURN, A NEW PLAYOFF RECORD!]

The extra-point team ran onto the field. The Krakens had just taken a huge jump, but Quentin found it hard to be excited — he had to wait for the first hit, and he had to pee.

Morningstar knocked in the extra point. First play of the game, Krakens 7, Earthlings 0.

Quentin tried to draw a full breath while the kickoff team took the field. Morningstar nailed a low squib kick — Hokor didn’t want a long return that might give the Earthlings momentum.

Utgard, the Earthlings’ kick returner, handled the line-drive kick and brought the ball back to the 28 before being brought down.

John Tweedy & Company took the field. As he looked at the defense — Tweedy, Virak the Mean, Choto the Bright, Michnik and Khomeni, Mai-An-Ihkole and Per-Ah-Yet — Quentin felt a pang of sorrow for Johanson. Those seven players had thought of nothing for the last week other than the total destruction of the Earthlings’ quarterback. Quentin figured the Earthlings defense had probably done the same thing, preparing for him — how would they react when he lined up at tailback, and Donald Pine took the snaps?

The Earthlings started out running, a sweep to Pookie Chang. Virak the Mean drove through two blockers and brought Chang down for a one-yard loss. Johanson tried a simple out pass on the next snap, but Berea broke up the play.

On third and long, Tweedy crowded the line, showing blitz all the way. Johanson dropped back — Tweedy’s blitz drew the fullback’s block, and Khomeni broke through almost immediately. Johanson felt the pressure and calmly threw the ball away.

Three and out.

Quentin had to pee so bad he could barely stand up straight.

“Here we go, kid,” Pine said as he pulled on his helmet. “It’s show time.”