Scott Sigler - The Rookie

Lowachee chewed up fifteen yards before Perth brought him down at the Krakens’ 48.

The Earthlings lined up in the Wing-T again, and this time Pookie Chang took the handoff. He popped through a tiny hole next to the center, moving forward at top speed. Tweedy had been watching Lowachee, and hadn’t come forward — Chang hit like a big-shouldered boulder, knocking Tweedy flat on his back. Chang stumbled on the fallen linebacker, giving Virak the Mean time to drag him down after an eight-yard gain.

The next play saw the same thing. The linemen and linebackers stepped up to stop Chang, but he didn’t have it. Defensive backs converged on Lowachee as Johanson rode him through the line. Lowachee went down under Perth and Berea — but he didn’t have the ball either. Suddenly Johanson was cutting up the sidelines, all alone. Stockbridge came from the far side of the field, her speed easily surpassing Johanson’s. Instead of taking the hit, Johanson casually stepped out of bounds after a 37 yard gain.

“Uh-oh,” Yitzhak said. “I bet it’s been two centuries since anyone ran this offense. This could be trouble.”

The Earthlings lined up at the Krakens’ 3-yard line, once again in the two tight-end Wing-T. The Krakens’ goal line defense packed around the line, shifting here and there, still not sure how to set up to stop the new offensive attack. The ball snapped and Johanson went through the cycle: put ball in Chang’s arms, put ball in Lowachee’s arms and ride him in, then run to the sidelines. Quentin tried to find the ball. Chang went down. Lowachee’s fake was bad — Johanson still had the ball, running for the corner of the end zone. Perth closed on him like a black-and-orange-and-white blur — but Johanson pulled up and threw a light pass to Lowachee, who had released into the flat, behind the streaking Perth.

Wide open.

Touchdown, Earthlings.

Extra point good, Krakens 14, Earthlings 9.

ON THIRD AND 11 at the Krakens’ 22, Aka-Na-Tak went down again, Chok-Oh-Thilit came through again, and Pine was sacked again. He came up bleeding from the right cheek, madder than Quentin had ever seen him. Pine reared back and threw the ball with all his strength — at Chok-Oh-Thilit, who was only five yards away. The ball smashed into Chok-Oh-Thilit’s helmet, then bounced high into the air.

Chok-Oh-Thilit turned and roared and ran at Pine, who snarled and drove forward, fists swinging. Whistles blew. The crowd raged. Quentin jumped on Chok-Oh-Thilit’s back. Zebes swarmed in as players attacked each other. The game was suddenly a sea of legs and tentacles and raspers and red-blue-silver-orange-black-white.

Whistles shrieked, players swore in four different languages. Something hit Quentin in the back, right at the kidneys. He rolled off Chok-Oh-Thilit and lay on the ground. Pine had his helmet off and was swinging it like a war hammer, blood coursing down his face, his white eyes wide against his red-stained blue skin.

More black and white. Zebes poured out of the woodwork, at least fifteen of them, flying in with stunsticks. Quentin heard the zap of the sticks, smelled burnt ozone, and saw players dropping. Chok-Oh-Thilit fell from a dozen blasts, Pine only needed two.

When it was over, the Krakens’ punt team came onto the field. Fifteen yards back, of course, for Pine’s personal foul.

THE DAMN WING-T was like watching a living puzzle box. It was a magician’s offense, sleight-of-hand and loathsome chicanery. Who had the ball? Pookie Chang? Peter Lowachee? Case Johanson? Was it a run? Was it a pass?

The Earthlings marched downfield again, chewing up five and six yards a pop. The Krakens started to adjust, but the vanishing-ball-trick had them tackling the wrong player more often than not. Chang for six. Lowachee for ten. Pass for fifteen. Chang for another four.

Twelve plays and seven minutes after the Krakens’ post-fight punt, Pookie Chang carried it in from four yards out to give the Earthlings the lead. Without missing a beat, they again lined up in the Wing-T for the two-point conversion. The Krakens’ defense still didn’t know how to stop that offense — Pookie Chang slipped through a trap-block and walked into the end zone standing up.

Earthlings 17, Krakens 14.

QUENTIN FOLLOWED Tom Pareless into the hole. Pareless nailed a stumbling Alonzo, putting the linebacker into the ground. Quentin hurdled them both and tried to cut outside. Kipir the Assassin, the outside linebacker, dove for him and grabbed his jersey, standing Quentin almost straight up as he tried to move forward. Jurong, the free safety, came in untouched like an armor-piercing bullet. She smashed into Quentin’s ribs. He heard a crack from his pads and another snap from inside his body.

He’d never been stabbed in the ribs, but he knew it had to feel just like this.

Quentin lay on the ground, big hands clutched tightly around the football. They could kill him, but they couldn’t make him fumble. His eyes scrunched tight with the agony in his side, and he waited for the medsled to cart him off the field.

Someone kicked his leg.

Quentin opened his eyes, squinting through the pain, to look up at Donald Pine.

“Get up, loser.”

Pine still had a blue bandage on his cheek. The cut had been deep, and despite constant application of nanocytes it had opened up two more times. The front of his orange jersey was a sheet of red.

“I said get up, you pansy.”

Quentin tried to blink away the pain. He had broken ribs. Broken ribs.

“I’ve got broken ribs,” Quentin said.

“And I care,” Pine said. “Now get up, rookie, and back in the huddle or I will kick you in those same ribs until you do.”

Quentin stared at Pine. He hated Pine. He had thought Pine was his friend, but he’d been crazy to think that. He’d always hated Don Pine. Don Pine was a loser.

Quentin slowly hauled himself back to a standing position, and followed Pine to the Krakens huddle.

THE FOURTH QUARTER started just as the Earthlings took over. They kept moving the ball, seemingly at will. Chang for five. Lowachee for seven. Chang for another four.

Then it happened.

Johanson put the ball in Chang’s belly as the thick running back slammed into the line. He then put it Lowachee’s arms, and rode the fleet-footed running back through the hole. Quentin had adjusted to the offense, and now saw the pulling guard running past the off-tackle hole, towards the outside — that mean Johanson had the ball.

And Quentin wasn’t the only one to see it.

Virak the Mean saw it, too.

The Earthlings’ pulling guard moved forward to block Virak, but the Quyth Warrior dropped to all-fours and stutter-stepped left, then right, then left again, using his low center of gravity to create the impossible lateral motion of a truly talented Quyth Warrior. The guard matched the first two moves, but stumbled off-balance and Virak shot past. He came free with a good five yards to pick up speed. Johanson tried to cut inside to avoid the reaching arms of Mum-O-Killowe — he didn’t see Virak until it was too late.

Virak threw himself forward like a flying switchblade, his helmet smashing into Johanson’s stomach. The quarterback went down hard. The ball popped free, but Pookie Chang hopped on it.

Whistles blew. Johanson got up… slowly. He limped back to the huddle, barely able to walk on his right leg.

THE EARTHLINGS TRIED running the Wing-T a few more times, but everyone knew the limping Johanson wasn’t going to carry the ball. With him removed as a threat, the Krakens defense concentrated on Chang and Lowachee. As the clock ticked past 8:00, the Earthlings punted the ball away. They wouldn’t run the Wing-T again for the rest of the game.