Well, forget that. Quentin was going to beat them through the air, drive that ball so far down their throats they’d crap leather for a month. Everything had finally come together — he knew the moves, the speed, the tendencies of Hawick, Scarborough, Mezquitic, Denver, Milford and even Richfield. It wasn’t just the wide receivers. He had Warburg and Kobayasho down cold, and fullback Tom Pareless was a hidden receiving weapon coming out of the backfield.
“Huuut-hut, hut!”
The ball slapped his hands and he dropped back, watching the Krakens defensive backs try in vain to cover the Krakens receivers. Quentin checked through, his mind racing at bio-computer speed: Hawick, covered; Scarborough, open in another ten yards; Warburg, open on a short hook — back to Scarborough, open, as he knew she would be. He fired the pass in a straight line, drilling Scarborough right on the money twenty-five yards downfield. Scarborough cut upfield, adding another six yards before Perth gave her a little tap — full contact was out, they didn’t want any last-second injuries gumming up the works.
Next play: he dropped back and fired a long TD strike to Hawick, who was playing so well she now had to be considered one of the top five receivers in all of Tier Two.
Next play: short hook to Kobayasho, who cut upfield and went down easy on a light hit from John Tweedy.
Next play: Quentin dropped back, checked off his three receivers — all covered. He turned and threw the safety-valve pass to Yassoud, who hauled in the tight pass and cut upfield.
The snap was so loud it stopped everyone in their tracks.
Yassoud planted his right foot, and when he cut upfield the snap rang out like a gunshot. He let out a yell, then fell, both hands holding his right knee before his body hit the ground.
The ball rolled free, wobbling to a slow stop.
Forty-three spirits collectively sank.
Doc floated onto the field. Yassoud writhed, his face a twisted mask of agony, his hands still clutched on his knee in white-knuckle desperation. A freak injury, from nothing more than making a sharp upfield cut.
“Pareless!” Hokor barked from his floating cart. “Move to tailback. Kopor, you’re in at fullback.”
Four days from the biggest game of the year, the last obstacle to Tier One ball, and the Ionath Krakens had just run out of tailbacks.
QUENTIN WALKED into Hokor’s office and sat down. Hokor stared at the wall, his eye a translucent mauve. Quentin waited for the coach to acknowledge his presence, but the little Quyth Leader just sat there.
“Coach?” Quentin said lightly.
Hokor turned suddenly, his eye instantly going clear.
“Barnes,” Hokor said. “I didn’t see you there.”
“It’s okay, Coach. You strategizing?”
Hokor’s fur ruffled once, then lay flat. “Strategizing, yes. Trying to find an answer for our lack of tailbacks.”
“And?”
“There is no answer. You’ll have to carry the game, Quentin — Pareless can run, but the Earthlings won’t consider him a threat, nor should they. He’s a great blocking back and good for short-yardage, but basically worthless as an open-field runner. They’re going to blitz on every play.”
Quentin sat for a second, considering his words. Hokor started staring at the wall again.
“There is one answer,” Quentin said.
Hokor turned to look at him once again.
“Which is?”
“I’ll play tailback.”
Hokor kept staring.
“I’ve got the size and the speed,” Quentin said. “I know the offense inside and out.”
Hokor nodded. “Except for the small detail of who will play quarterback. You think Yitzhak can handle the Earthlings’ defensive backs?”
“I’m not talking about Yitzhak,” Quentin said.
Hokor looked blank for another second, then his eye flooded a deep black.
“Absolutely not! I will not have that betrayer run my team ever again.”
Quentin leaned forward. “It’s our only chance, Coach! You’ve got to let him back in.”
“No! I’d rather lose than see him on the field again.”
“Would you?” Quentin said. “Would you really rather lose than have him at quarterback. Because I’d rather do anything than lose! It doesn’t matter what he did, Coach, all that matters is that we give ourselves the best possible chance to win tomorrow.”
Hokor sat silent for a moment. “We won’t even get a chance to practice.”
“Who cares? It’s Donald Pine! You remember him? The guy who won two Galaxy Bowls? It’s not like he dropped off into retard-land in the one week he’s been gone. Get him in here.”
Hokor stared, his eye slowly fading from deep black to clear. “You would do this? You would give up the quarterback spot in the biggest game of the year? That’s not like you, Barnes.”
Quentin shrugged. “It’s like me now, Coach. I want to win. I want to play Tier One ball.”
“Do you know what you’re doing? Do you understand the level of punishment a tailback takes in a game?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to reach Tier One.”
Hokor said nothing. They stared at each other for a long minute, the seconds ticking away on some unseen, slow-motion clock. Finally, Hokor pressed a button on his desk. Messal the Efficient appeared as if he’d been standing just outside the door the entire time.
“How may I help you, Shamakath?”
“Find Donald Pine. Get him in here, immediately.”
DAN: Thanks, caller, great point about the reliability of Arioch Morningstar. You know, Akbar, in all the commotion over Fayed’s death, we’ve kind of overlooked the quality performances from some of the Krakens players. That and with the quarterback controversy.
AKBAR: Well, luckily the quarterback controversy is over.
DAN: It is?
AKBAR: Of course it is.
DAN: Okay, then who won it?
AKBAR: Barnes, for crying out loud.
TARAT: Barnes is starting against the Earthlings.
DAN: And that means the controversy is over?
TARAT: You saw him last week, Barnes was sensational.
DAN: Sure, against the Quyth Survivors. My mother-in-law could pass on the Quyth Survivors.
AKBAR: Come on, Dan, just admit it — Barnes is the man.
DAN: Are you insane? Are you completely brain-damaged? The kid couldn’t cut it against the Warpigs, Pine had to come in and bail him out.
AKBAR: So he had one bad game…
DAN: He throws interceptions! He’s the friggin’ King of Interception-Land! And now you think he’s the man?
AKBAR: But Pine’s not even practicing with the team.
DAN: That’s just a rumor.
TARAT: My sources say it’s true, he’s not practicing at all.
DAN: Then it’s a head-game, don’t you morons see that? Hokor is up to his old tricks again.
AKBAR: So what are you saying, Pine should start?
DAN: Damn right!
AKBAR: So he can choke again, like he has the last two years?