THE ALL-PRO (54 page)

Courtesy of Galaxy Sports Network

THERE ARE ONLY
four games left in the 2684 season and the playoff picture is still very much up in the air, thanks to Ionath’s 28-24 upset over the formerly undefeated Wabash Wolfpack (7-1). The Krakens (6-2) silenced the critics that said they hadn’t defeated a quality team since Week One and also moved into a tie for third place in the Planet Division. Ionath quarterback Quentin Barnes started the game on fire, going 10-for-14 with 182 yards passing. His biggest pass of the day was an 82-yard touchdown strike to second-year receiver Halawa. This is also the second year in a row in which the Krakens beat the defending Galaxy Bowl champions.

The Wolfpack’s loss allowed the To Pirates (7-1) to jump back into a first-place Planet Division tie. To’s 31-25 win over the Bord Brigands (3-5) sets up a critical Week Ten match up as the Pirates head to Ionath.

Themala (5-3), Yall (6-2) and Isis (6-2) all won this week to remain in the Planet Division playoff hunt.

In the Solar Division, wins by Neptune (7-1) and Jupiter (7-1) moved those teams to within one victory of locking up playoff berths. Based on the records of the other Solar Division teams, eight wins will guarantee either team a postseason appearance.

Vik’s surprising mid-season run continued as the Vanguard (5-3) notched a 13-6 win over the Sala Intrigue (1-7). With the score tied at 6-6 late in the fourth quarter, Vik linebacker Mur the Mighty picked off a Jason Harris pass and ran it in for the winning touchdown. At 5-3, Vik sits in third place in the Solar Division and controls its own destiny.

Deaths

No deaths reported this week.

Offensive Player of the Week

To quarterback
Frank Zimmer
, who completed 33 of 41 passes for 328 yards and three touchdowns in the Pirates’ come-from-behind win over the Bord Brigands.

Defensive Player of the Week

Ionath Krakens defensive end
Ibrahim Khomeni
, who had three sacks and three solo tackles in Ionath’s 28-24 win over the previously undefeated Wabash Wolfpack.

PLANET DIVISION

7-1 Wabash Wolfpack

7-1 To Pirates

6-2 Ionath Krakens

6-2 Isis Ice Storm

6-2 Yall Criminals

5-3 Themala Dreadnaughts

3-5 Coranadillana Cloud Killers

3-5 OS1 Orbiting Death

2-6 Alimum Armada

2-6 Hittoni Hullwalkers

0-8 Lu Juggernauts

SOLAR DIVISION

7-1 Neptune Scarlet Fliers

7-1 Jupiter Jacks

5-3 Vik Vanguard

4-4 Bartel Water Bugs

3-5 Bord Brigands

3-5 D’Kow War Dogs

3-5 New Rodina Astronauts

3-5 Shorah Warlords

3-5 Texas Earthlings

2-6 Jang Atom Smashers

1-7 Sala Intrigue

THE GRAV-CAB SLOWED
, then pulled to the side of Spoke Road 8. In the back, a one-eyed Quyth Worker’s face flared to life on a small, static-speckled holotank mounted behind the driver’s seat.

“That will be thirty credits,” he said.

Choto the Bright leaned forward. “We are not there yet. You need to drive through the next ring-road.”

“No,” the driver said. “You need to
walk
through the next ring-road. This is as far as I go.”

Quentin could understand why. Outside the cab’s windows, he saw the signs of abject poverty, of crime, of danger. The place was much safer than Micovi, to be sure, but there was no denying this was in the bad part of Ionath City.

Choto pressed a pedipalp finger to the screen to pay. “Driver, you will stay here. We have a dinner scheduled with Gredok the Splithead. Do you know who Gredok the Splithead is?”

The Worker started to visibly shake. “Yes, I know who he is.”

“Then you will wait for us,” Choto said. “If you leave us here, Gredok would not be happy with you.”

The Worker said something in the Quyth language. Quentin didn’t know the words, but didn’t have to to understand the meaning — the cabbie would wait in this very spot for a decade, if need be.

A tap on his shoulder. Choto the Bright, his eye swirling with a darker green — stress, anxiety.

“Quentin, are you sure you need to go here? Can’t you make George Starcher come to your place?”

“I tried,” Quentin said. “He won’t answer any calls. At practice, he just won’t talk. I have to see him here.”

“Why? If he won’t talk, he won’t talk.”

“I think he might be in trouble.”

“Really? From who? Gredok will smash anyone that threatens his players.”

“Not from someone else,” Quentin said. “George might be trouble from himself.”

Choto leaned back, his eye cleared. “I see. Well, if that is what George wants, then that is what George wants.”

“He doesn’t
want
it, Choto. I think he might not be able to help it.”

“Ludicrous,” Choto said. “In life, Quentin, you get what you want. If this is the life George Starcher leads, then that is how he wants it. Life is choice.”

“Maybe he’s not able to make the right choice.”

“Then let him go,” Choto said. “His job is to block and catch passes, yet he fails at both. We have no need for him. Certainly no need that merits placing you in danger. This part of town is for the detritus of our society, those that no one wants. Those that will not fight to make a better life for themselves. Tara the Freak lives around here. Need I say more?”

Quentin felt his temper rising. Was it Choto’s personal belief that you didn’t help those that needed it? Or maybe that was prevalent throughout Quyth culture. Probably the latter, considering how the rest of the team had treated Tara.

“Choto, I’m going to George’s apartment. If you don’t want to come with, then leave.”

“And if you are hurt and I have to face Gredok’s wrath? I would be better off being shot in the eye and dying here. I will go with you. But if you insist on going, I want you to take this.”

Choto reached into his gray pants. He pulled out an object and offered it to Quentin.

Quentin stared at it in disbelief. “Is that a gun?”

“No, it’s a piece of delicious candy packaged in a pistol shape. Yes, it is a gun.”

“But those are illegal.”

“As is organized crime, which would never happen in Ionath City.”

Quentin looked up. “When did you become a sarcastic smartass?”

“This isn’t sarcasm, it’s annoyance,” Choto said. “Now take it.”

Quentin shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Look at what you are wearing. You look like a very rich sentient.”

Quentin wore a perfectly tailored suit, a pearlescent white shirt and glossy shoes. His hands lifted to his head, feeling his perfectly done hair. He’d dressed up. His father would be at this dinner, as would Ju and John. A celebration of the long-awaited win over Gredok’s archrival. All decked out, Quentin would look like a fat target for mugging despite his huge size.

“Quentin, this weapon is almost harmless,” Choto said. “It is a deterrent, a scare factor. Since there are so few weapons under the Dome, just showing it will make most sentients back off. It is undetectable by most of the city’s scanners. Even if you do get caught, you’re a football player. The worst thing that can happen is they take it away. If you do have to use it, it is a very low-power, low-caliber weapon. It will make a lot of noise and cause pain, but mostly superficial.”

“Mostly? You’re telling me this gun can’t kill?”

“Only if you press it right up against a sentient’s brain case and pull the trigger.”

Choto made it sound so easy, like there were no consequences to carrying the weapon. Quentin shook his head, then stepped out of the grav-cab.

The first thing he saw was a pack of three Quyth Warriors chasing a bleeding Human. The Warriors were carrying baseball bats. The Human ran down a narrow alley, out of sight. The Warriors followed.

Quentin leaned back into the cab and extended his hand. “Okay, give it to me.”

Choto did. “It is nice to see you listen to reason for once,” he said, then got out.

Quentin and Choto walked up Spoke Road 8 toward George Starcher’s apartment.

• • •

“HIGH ONE,” QUENTIN SAID
. “This doesn’t make any sense. He’s
got
money.”

Garbage littered the halls. Quentin had to step over two Quyth Workers who were passed out on the floor, an empty juniper sprig between them. They had eaten raw berries, so far gone in their addiction they couldn’t wait for, or maybe couldn’t afford, actual distilled gin.

The place smelled of urine, spoiled food and other indefinable-yet-awful smells. George Starcher, professional football player, lived in a flop-house.

Another Worker stumbled down the hall. He held a clear jar filled with hazy liquid. Choto instantly stepped between Quentin and the Worker, grabbed the smaller creature and shoved him to the floor. The Worker’s drink spilled all over him. His eye flooded pink. He didn’t get up.

Quentin felt bad for the Worker. He looked so pitiful.

“Choto, do you need to be so rough?”

“Yes,” he said. “And do these conditions surprise you? Do you not have places like this on Micovi?”

“We do. I lived in one most of my life. We just don’t have sentients like this.”

Micovi had hungry children, starving adults, blood feuds and revenge killings, but drug use was rare. If you were caught abusing the body that High One gave you, it was often a capital offense. Homelessness and drug abuse were not among Micovi’s many problems, mostly because people who suffered those conditions were taken away, never to be heard from again.

They turned a corner. There, standing in front of a door smeared with a caked, brown substance, stood Tara the Freak. The big, misshapen Warrior saw them — his eye instantly flooding black.

“Tara,” Quentin said. “What are you doing here?”

Tara stared at Choto. Quentin looked between the two, wondering if this would erupt into another fight.

Choto broke the silence. “I have no quarrel with you, Tara.”

Tara kept staring, but the black color gradually dissipated. Quentin relaxed a little. Maybe Tara and the other Warriors would never be buddies, but
I have no quarrel with you
was a huge improvement. Tara’s play had earned him at least tolerance, if not acceptance.

Tara pointed to the brown-smeared door. “I am worried about George. I did not think he had anyone to help him.”

Quentin nodded. So he wasn’t the only one to sense George’s odd behavior. Odd for George, anyway, and that was saying something. “Did you knock?”

Tara looked down at his middle right arm. He held it away from his body, as if it were diseased. The three-pincered hand showed smears of brown. “I did. He did not answer. I would like to find a place to wash.”

“He didn’t answer. Do you think he’s in there?”

“He is,” Tara said. “Now that you are here, I will leave.”