“Now Q, I know you’re thinking that I’m your brother and Jeanine is your sister so therefore ergo proctology hoc I am Jeanine’s brother and therefore it’s incest, but I checked with a scientist and it turns out things don’t work that way. Who would have known, right? And also I don’t like the smell of incest — I don’t know why people burn those little sticks, they kind of stink.”
“You can’t date her,” Quentin said in a monotone. “You can’t.”
Becca stood. “Of course he can, Quentin. Anyone can tell they’re in love.”
Quentin remembered his conversation with Becca in the Hypatia’s galley; how she had laughed when Quentin said he dreaded giving John the news.
“You knew,” he said to Becca. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”
“I guessed,” she said. “Just because I knock the crap out of people on the football field doesn’t mean I’m not a girl, Quentin. I could see the way Jeanine looked at John and the way John looked at her.”
John tapped his temple. “See that, Q? I told you Becca was smart.”
Quentin looked at them, at Jeanine wrapped around John’s arm, but he only saw John punching a fist through a Quyth Warrior’s eye in a nightclub, or John in a bar fight, or John on the football field hitting other players so hard be broke armor and bone, so hard he killed.
“You can’t,” Quentin said. He looked at Jeanine. “John’s so ... violent. And you wouldn’t come see me because you thought I was violent.”
Jeanine’s smile faded. Once again, Quentin saw the same eyes that looked back at him from the mirror, saw the same intensity.
“John saved my life,” she said. “Not just mine, Quentin — by fighting the Gouger, I think he also saved yours.”
“He broke my jaw! He gave me another concussion.”
“I said I was sorry about that,” John said. “Look, Q, maybe this will take some getting used to. I get that.” He put his arm around Jeanine, hugged her close. “I really want you to be okay with this ... but if you’re not, well, it won’t change anything.”
Quentin looked at Jeanine. She stared back, didn’t say a word to the contrary.
He looked at Ma, hoping someone could help him make sense of this.
“The heart wants what the heart wants, Quentin,” Ma said. “Now stop being a dumbass and tell them you’re happy for them.”
Jeanine, his only family ... and John had saved her. John Tweedy, the nightmare of a linebacker — who apparently couldn’t tell the difference between incest and incense — had defeated the Gouger not because of size or strength or speed, but because of a brilliant strategy. Quentin wanted to think he would have won that duel, but in his heart he knew that wasn’t the truth. He would have fought, he would have died, and Jeanine would have lived out her years as a slave.
Quentin’s anger and confusion faded away. He loved John. He loved Jeanine. John was violent, sure, but so was Quentin. So was Becca, for that matter. Being violent helped make them the athletes they were. John was genuine, caring and loyal. Who better to date his sister?
“I’m sorry,” Quentin said. “I just... yeah, it takes some getting used to is all. You don’t need my blessing, but you have it anyway.”
John raised his fists in victory. “Sweet! Boy, am I glad that’s taken care of, but man, I really want some cookies. Ma, can I have some cookies before Quentin eats them all?”
Ma shook her head in exasperation. “You’d think you never had a cookie in your entire life.”
“I’ve never had these cookies, Ma. And they smell way better than incest.”
Jeanine started laughing. She walked to Quentin, put her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to kiss his cheek.
“I love you, little brother,” she said. “This will turn out great, you’ll see.”
He hugged her, lifted her off her feet as if she weighed nothing at all.
“I hope so,” he said. “But it’s a little weird that my brother is dating my sister.”
He set her down.
Jeanine nodded. “That is weird. Good thing John talked to a scientist, right. Although, I am a little worried — preseason is almost here, and if word gets out I’m dating John, someone might get the bright idea that they can use me to control both the Ionath offense and the defense.”
She was right. She was exactly right. This would get out, eventually, and when it did, Jeanine would be more of a target than ever.
“Turns out I have a solution to that,” Quentin said. “Let’s talk about your living arrangements.”
BOOK THREE
The Preseason
30
Preseason Week One
THE KRAKENS HAD SEEN EACH OTHER here and there, sometimes out on the streets of Ionath City, sometimes at dinner or at birthday parties, but this was different. The first day of preseason, the first trip to the locker room.
Their first official day as defending GFL champions.
Quentin arrived a full two hours before practice began. He no longer had to worry if Becca would beat him there, because this time they’d come together. She had gone off to the HeavyG locker room, he to the Human, where he prepped his gear and waited for his teammates, waited for the annual ritual of welcoming in the season.
Yassoud Murphy entered, braided beard bound with thin silver rope. He greeted Quentin with a laugh and a hug. Quentin held him at arm’s length, looked the man up and down. Yassoud had always been a specimen of Human biology, as were most GFL players, but now he looked bigger. Bigger and stronger.
“High One, ’Soud ... how much weight did you put on during the off-season?”
“Almost ten kilos,” he said. “I’m at one fifty-two.”
One hundred and fifty-two kilos: 335 pounds. Yassoud packed all of that onto a six-foot, six-inch frame.
“You look great,” Quentin said.
Yassoud pounded his left fist against his chest three times, bam-bam-bam.
“I trained all off-season. Mark my words, Q — you and I are going to be spending a lot more time on the field together this year, oh yep.”
Yassoud backed up Ju Tweedy, the league’s most dominant running back. Despite a few injuries, Ju had been named All-Pro last year; Yassoud was and always would be in Ju’s shadow.
But still ... a motivated second-stringer could put pressure on a starter, force that starter to work a little bit harder to keep his job, making both players better in the process. And Ju didn’t play every down; with the punishment he took running up the middle, he had to spend some time on the sidelines. Having Yassoud as a top-notch “third-down back” would make Quentin’s job easier.
“This is our year, ’Soud.”
Yassoud nodded. “This is our year.” He walked to his locker.
Last year had belonged to the Krakens, obviously, but that was in the past. As soon as the last piece of confetti hit the ground, the 2685 season was over and the title meant nothing. The twenty-two Tier One franchises were back to zero wins, zero losses, and it all began again.
Quentin would make sure the Krakens worked even harder than the season before. Only two teams in GFL history had won back-to-back titles. One was the Hittoni Hullwalkers. The other was the Jupiter Jacks, when Don Pine had been at the helm. Quentin would not rest until he had eclipsed each and every one of Don’s accomplishments.
The rest of the Human players filtered in, everyone excited, happy to see each other. Crazy George Starcher with his face painted a flat blue. Yotaro Kobayasho, the team’s number-two tight end with the bleach-white skin of a Tower Republic native. Kobayasho’s visual opposite, the pitch-black-skinned backup linebacker Samuel Darkeye. Last year’s rookie fullback Pete Marval, still third string but in good shape.
The squat form of Jay Martinez entered next. Third on the running back depth chart behind Ju and Yassoud, Jay was just six-foot-two and 305 pounds: tiny for the position, but when he ran, he ran with everything he had. Quentin hoped to target him more this year with screen passes in third-down situations
.
Then came Arioch Morningstar, the kicker. As always, he looked calm and somewhat oblivious to his surroundings. He greeted everyone with a simple nod, as if they had finished the ‘85 season only yesterday.
John and Ju came in next, arguing as always. Some kind of disagreement about how to properly chew gum, it seemed. They were so into their argument that they barely gave Quentin a second glance.
Yassoud’s improved physical stature made Quentin take a new look at Ju. Did Ju look a little ... smaller? Muscles not quite so defined, maybe? Quentin wondered if Ju was even aware that Yassoud was going all-out to get more carries. There were four weeks of preseason, though — plenty of time for Ju to regain his All-Pro physique.
Last in was Yitzhak Goldman. Quentin moved to greet him.
“Zak, good to see you.”
The backup quarterback stopped walking. He stared at Quentin, stared with a look that could only be described as hatred.
“I wish I could say the same,” the Tower Republic native said. His normally all-white skin looked a touch gray. Grayish bags hung under his eyes.
“Listen, Zak,” Quentin said quietly, “if this is about what happened in the playoffs, then—”
“What else would it be about?” The two men stood face-to-face, the seven-foot-tall Quentin towering over the six-four Yitzhak, both of them talking so quietly no one else in the locker room could hear.
“You got something to say, Zak?”
The backup nodded. “Your fictitious High One didn’t just make you the best quarterback in the league. He also apparently made you the coach. He made you the owner, the commissioner ... High One made you High One, did he?”
“Of course not.”
“Oh, well, I must have been dreaming,” Yitzhak said. “Because I could have sworn that I had a chance to help my team win the Galaxy Bowl. I busted my ass my whole life, worked as hard as I could even though I didn’t see much playing time, all to be ready when the team needed me, and when that time came, you decided to put your girlfriend in the game instead of me.”
“Come on, Zak. Becca wasn’t my girlfriend then.”
An unhealthy smile slowly broke across Yitzhak’s face.
“But she’s your girlfriend now, isn’t she?”
Quentin felt uncomfortable. He wondered if other players were watching the exchange, but he wasn’t going to break the stare-down.
“It wasn’t about you,” Quentin said. “It was about winning that game. You’re a good quarterback, but she gave us the best chance at the time. I’m not going to apologize for it. We can talk about this, Zak. You and I can work this out.”
“You had the off-season to talk to me. Seven months of it and you didn’t bother.”
Seven months. Zak was right — Quentin hadn’t reached out during all that time. Neither had Zak, but that wasn’t the way things worked: Quentin was the team leader, and he had made the call to go with Becca instead of Zak. If Zak had reached out first, that would have been a whiny why didn’t you put me in I feel bad so make me feel better kind of groveling. No, Quentin should have started that conversation, yet he’d failed to do that.
Could he tell Zak about Jeanine’s kidnapping and all they had gone through? But even if he did, that whole thing had been resolved in the first couple of weeks following the Galaxy Bowl. That left six months plus where Quentin could have done the right thing — but he’d been too busy hanging out with Becca.
“Zak, you’re right. I’m sorry, man.”
Yitzhak sneered. “I look like a fool in front of the entire galaxy and you’re sorry. Save your sympathy, High One, because I don’t want to hear it. I’ll do my job this season. You do yours. Other than that, just stay the hell out of my way.”
The backup walked to his locker.
Quentin felt awful. He would just have to find a way to make things right. But that would have to wait, because the season was about to begin.
“Let’s get out there, guys,” he said. “Time to start our title defense.”
The Human players gave a few quick hoots and hollers. Quentin left the locker room and headed to the field.
THE GRAND VISAGE OF IONATH STADIUM. Twenty-two pillars rose up from the top edge of the empty upper decks, each pillar draped with a long hanging banner representing one of the GFL’s Tier One teams.
Quentin stood at the mouth of the tunnel, staring out at this football cathedral. The pillars carried the familiar logos of the GFL’s dominant, enduring franchises: the To Pirates, the Jupiter Jacks, the Yall Criminals.
And there were banners that hadn’t been there when Quentin had first led the Krakens to Tier One: the black and metalflake-red of the OS1 Orbiting Death; the red, white and blue of the Texas Earthlings; the black and emerald green of the Buddha City Elite; the green and gray of the Sheb Stalkers.
He could add two more teams to that list. A shimmering iridescent banner represented the D’Oni Coelacanths, champs of the Whitok Conference. D’Oni was a city on New Whitok, also the home planet of the D’Kow War Dogs. The other team to join the T1 ranks, the McMurdo Murderers, had the strangest logo of any team in the GFL: a pink banner showing a white cartoon bunny with a pink belly, smiling an evil smile and holding a butcher’s knife behind its back. McMurdo was on Earth, football’s mother planet.
The Coelacanths and the Murderers: two more teams for the meat grinder, two more squads packed with players that would scrap and claw, that would fight all season long. Some of those players might die. The survivors would hit and be hit, hurt and be hurt, would bear the burden of lifelong pain as they chased the ultimate goal of a GFL title.
New teams, old teams ... Quentin didn’t care about them. Only one banner mattered; it was black, orange and white. On it, the six-tentacled logo of the Ionath Krakens. Champs now, and champs they would remain when the upcoming season ended.
But if Petra’s wasps come, will any of this be left?
Quentin shook away the thought. That wasn’t his business. He was a football player, not a soldier, not an admiral and not a politician. He had one job: lead his team to a second straight title.
“Hey, Q. Ready to begin?”
He turned, saw a smiling Becca standing at his side. They had agreed there would be no public displays of affection, especially not on the field or in front of their teammates. But Becca didn’t have to touch him to show how she felt — her eyes told the story.
His woman, here, ready to fight, ready to work. Becca was no delicate flower, and Quentin wouldn’t want her if she were. Becca was a warrior on a team full of warriors.
He was. He was at the top of his game, at the pinnacle of his sport. His dream had come true — now it was time for a new dream.
Two-time Galaxy Bowl champion.
That had a nice ring to it.
The rest of the Krakens started coming out of the tunnel. Quentin jogged to midfield, Becca Montagne at his side.
“HELLO, MISS MONTAGNE,” the HeavyG man said. “How are you this afternoon?”
“Uh ...” Becca said. “I ... uh ...”
Quentin remembered his own first visit to Danny Lundy’s office. The woman sitting behind that same desk had quite possibly been the best-looking Human he’d ever laid eyes on, so drop-dead hot she had made Somalia look like a street bum. Now, for Becca’s visit, Danny had a stylishly dressed HeavyG man that could have been a movie star, or a model, or probably both. Quentin had to wonder if that woman had been placed there just for his benefit and if this HeavyG man had been placed here for Becca. If so, where did Danny find such good-looking people?
The HeavyG man smiled his perfect smile.
Becca stared, mouth open.
Quentin nudged her.
“Oh,” Becca said. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“And Mister Barnes,” the man said, “we’re so glad to see you here again.”
Quentin nodded.
The receptionist gestured to the waiting room’s chairs. “Mister Lundy is on a call,” he said. “Would you b
oth mind waiting? He won’t be but a moment.”
He nodded. “I’m ready.”
Quentin started toward the chairs, realized that Becca was still looking at the receptionist, then gently pulled her arm. She blinked rapidly, shook her head and came along.
“Wow, Becca, stare much?”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Of course not,” Quentin said. “Not even a little.”
She laughed and covered her mouth with her hand. “Okay, I don’t normally stare,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone that good-looking in person before. It’s weird.”
They walked to the chairs, passing by the holos of Danny’s clients that lined the walls. Stars like John Tweedy, the sled-racer Fas Arenald, Dinolition star Poughkeepsie Pete, Yitzhak Goldman, Vu-Ko-Will and — of course — Quentin Barnes.
“Nice,” Becca said as they sat. She nudged Quentin. “Look at you, all fancy with your fancy-pants holo. You look all heroic, don’t ya know.”
He hated being highlighted, being shown in a non-team light, and she knew it. She was teasing him, but she should have looked all around the office before she did. He nudged her with his shoulder and pointed to his left.
“I think you missed one,” he said.
Becca looked, then said nothing. She stared at a holo of herself, all geared up in the Orange and the Black, knocking a Jupiter Jacks Quyth Warrior on his ass.
Quentin nudged her again. “Now that looks heroic. I might even say legendary.”
She laughed, embarrassed, and punched his arm playfully. It still hurt, though — the girl bench-pressed around 380.
“Shut up,” she said. “It’s only funny when you’re embarrassed, don’t ya know.”
“My bad, I’ll try to remember that.”
Sitting there with Becca, Quentin was reminded of when he had sat in these very seats with Yitzhak. Pine had shown Quentin what needed to be done on the field, but off of it, it was Yitzhak who showed Quentin the ropes. The man had helped Quentin see the bigger picture, that getting angry over every little thing stopped you from being happy at the big things.