The Champion (70 page)

Quentin expected a groan of disappointment from John, Yassoud, Cliff Frost and the other typical bar-going crew, but the men said nothing. Everyone understood: they were on the brink of a second championship, and giving up a couple of nights on the town was a small price to pay.

“Normal practice today,” the coach said. “Tomorrow is the mandatory pre-Galaxy Bowl Media Day, an unfortunate tradition that we must suffer through. However, due to those same security concerns, Commissioner Froese has agreed to allow us to host Media Day on the
Touchback
instead of in the stadium. You will all spend two hours on the practice field, taking questions from reporters. Due to the high demand for Barnes, he will be taking scheduled interviews in the Kriegs-Ballok virtual practice room.”

There were overly dramatic
boos
and jibes like
fancy pants!
and
too important to be with the team
?, but it was all in good fun. Everyone understood that if Quentin was on the practice field, he’d be completely surrounded the entire time — although that wasn’t the real reason for the isolation. Still, Quentin’s face flushed: even in jest, he hated anyone thinking he was above the team.

“Enough grab-assing,” Hokor said, silencing the jibes. “On Saturday, we will shuttle down to Red Storm City under heavy Creterakian escort for a walk-through practice at the stadium. Then, on Sunday, the utter destruction and humiliation of the Jupiter Jacks. Dismissed.”

Quentin set the coach down. The players, Gredok and Hokor filtered out of the packed observation deck. Quentin waited for them to leave, until he stood alone with Messal.

“Elder Barnes, I have accommodated your request,” Messal said. “Tomorrow, Jonathan Sandoval will be here with the media, but he will be limited to the practice field. Armed guards will be at the VR room’s entryway to ensure that only properly scheduled media personnel can meet with you.”

“Thank you,” Quentin said. “And you didn’t tell Gredok about my request?”

“I did not,” Messal said. “I suggested that — this close to the game — perhaps he wanted to take all available precautions to protect you while still allowing you to perform your leaguerequired media duties. He concurred.”

Messal the Efficient, subtly manipulating once again.

Quentin would have rather banned Sandoval from coming to the
Touchback
at all, but doing so would have raised questions. The man still had to make a living. Sandoval kept Quentin’s secret, and Quentin would keep Sandoval’s.

“Messal, you are the best,” Quentin said.

“Of course, Elder Barnes. Oh, one more thing. Coach Hokor has scheduled a position meeting in the VR room after the media has left. Quarterbacks and fullbacks.”

Quentin nodded. “Understood. Thank you.”

Messal bowed, then walked out.

Quentin turned to take one last look out the viewport windows. The sprawling mass of the gas giant in the background, Red Storm City in the foreground, and in all directions, thousands of ships and constructs that made up the Jupiter Net Colony.

Destiny
.

Gredok had said it well.

Tomorrow’s position meeting would be a big deal to Becca. Hokor would name her the starting fullback
and
the backup quarterback. It would be hard on Trevor Haney, but Becca was just that good, and when it came to winning the Galaxy Bowl, “fair” and “nice” weren’t words to be considered.

Quentin looked at the championship ring on his finger. He decided the ring looked lonely — it needed another one to keep it company.

“Three days,” Quentin said. “Three days, and I raise that trophy again.”

• • •

WHILE HE FELT BAD
about not being on the practice field with his teammates, Quentin had to admit that a guy could get used to this.

He stood in the middle of the
Touchback’s
VR room. Up above, through the room’s clear dome, the void’s blackness sparkled with twinkling stars and the occasional fire-flutter from one of Jupiter Net Colony’s endless ships. Instead of fielding questions from a dozen reporters packed around him like a violent mob, he had just one interview at a time: relaxed, calm, easy. Occasionally, being a star had its privileges.

“This is our biggest test of the season, Kinizzle, but we’re up to the challenge,” Quentin said. “We’re here to win.”

The Creterakian’s leathery wings shuddered, a sound that was hard to miss considering Kinizzle was perched on Quentin’s shoulder. Quentin had come to learn that twitchy wings meant annoyance in that species.

“Barnes, I did not travel all the way to Jupiter so you could say the same thing to me you say to every other reporter.”

Quentin shrugged, perhaps a little more than necessary; Kinizzle had to flap a bit to keep balanced.

“If you think I’m going to give you something that will motivate the Jacks two days before the game, you’re mistaken,” Quentin said. “This is my tenth interview in a row, so forgive me if I sound a little repetitive.”

Coach Hokor entered the VR practice room, followed by Nancy Wolf, Kopor the Climber and Trevor Haney. Like Quentin, the three players wore their black game jerseys, the same ones they would be wearing come Sunday. Kopor was all business: he’d been through the Galaxy Bowl media circus before. Nancy and Trevor, on the other hand, were bleary-eyed and looked exhausted.

“Interviews are over,” Hokor said. “Reporters, leave.”

Quentin smiled apologetically to Kinizzle, then pointed to the VR room entryway.

“Sorry, time’s up.”

“Very well,” the Creterakian said. “I am not supposed to take sides, but I hope you win.”

“Oh? You’re secretly a Krakens fan?”

“No, I do not like Don Pine — he strikes me as disingenuous.”

In the past, Quentin would have loved to know more about that, but if he kicked Pine’s ass a second time, the lies and the cowardice wouldn’t really matter anymore. Regardless of what the future brought, Quentin would go forward knowing that he’d
won
.

Kinizzle fluttered to the entryway and out of the VR room. The guards posted there — Bobby Brobst and the three-eyed HeavyKi Fon-Ga-Kal — watched him carefully as he left.

Hokor called everyone to the center of the 50-yard-diameter room.

“Gather up,” he said. “Gredok is on his way. We have to go over some things.”

Quentin joined them. “Coach, where’s Becca?”

“Still on the practice field, busy in an interview,” Hokor said. “She is not needed for this meeting.”

Gredok strolled in, followed by Virak the Mean wearing his black 58 jersey. They joined Hokor. The players gathered around. Usually, Gredok did the talking, but this time he stood to the side, waiting for his coach to speak. He was there to show that there was to be no disagreement — what Hokor was about to say was official team policy.

“I have made a decision,” the coach said. “Some of you will not like it. Everyone, take a knee.”

Even kneeling, the players surrounding him were still taller than he was, yet Hokor commanded absolute authority.

“Barnes is the starting quarterback, obviously,” he said. “Montagne is the starting fullback. Should Barnes be unable to play, Montagne will take his place. That makes her the numberone fullback
and
the number-two quarterback.” He turned to face Trevor. “This may be difficult for you, Haney. Montagne is the best choice, even if she’s already played part of the game at fullback.”

Haney’s black and white face couldn’t hide the disappointment, but he nodded. “I understand, Coach. Whatever is best for the team.”

Quentin wondered how Becca might have felt if she’d heard Haney say that.

“Kopor is number two at fullback,” Hokor said. “Any questions?”

The players shook their heads.

The speakerfilm crackled briefly.

“
This is Captain Kate. Gredok, are you in the VR room?
”

She didn’t sound panicked, exactly, but something had her on edge.

“Of course I am,” Gredok said. “You can see that I am.”

“
Cameras are out
,” Kate said. “
All over the ship. Bad news, boss, I think someone hacked into the Touchback again
.”

“Impossible,” Gredok said. “Do you have any idea how much I paid to have that temporary protection hardware installed?”

“
Well, someone spent more than you did, because I’m blind up here. And
 ...
wait a minute, your new hardware located the source of the hack ... Jason Procknow’s cabin
.”

Virak stepped closer to Gredok, loomed over the Leader like a shield.

“Captain Kate, this is Virak the Mean speaking. I am assuming command of the ship. Where are the reporters?”

“
Reporter shuttle just departed
,” Kate said. “
There’s a few stragglers still on the practice field. We ... dammit, we have forced takeover of multiple systems ... blast doors sealed on practice field ... I think the entire team is trapped in there, and
—”

Quentin felt a vibration under his feet, one that hearkened back to the pirate attack of two seasons ago.

“
Detonation detected on Deck Two, repeat, detonation detected on Deck Two
.”

Virak scooped up Gredok in one middle arm.

“Virak, get us out of here,” Gredok said. “Barnes, Hokor, you come with me.”

What, they were just going to leave Nancy and Trevor? No way.

Before Quentin could say anything, the world exploded around him.

QUENTIN ROLLED
to his back. His right ear rang with a constant piercing tone; he wasn’t sure if his left heard anything at all. He coughed, and when he did he felt a stabbing pain in his left forearm. What had happened? VR room ... interviews ... then Hokor ... then Captain Kate, saying someone had hacked ... then ...

A bomb.

The dome
 ...

He coughed again, peered up through the thin smoke at the stars above. If the VR room’s crysteel dome had cracked, he was dead, as was everyone else around him. He saw glimmering chips of light, the ships of the Jupiter Net Colony moving back and forth in the distance ... but no cracks.

It would hold, at least for now.

Becca
 ...

Quentin rolled to his hands and knees. Smoke and scattered debris, sentients laying everywhere, some moving, some not. He tried to push off his left hand and stand up, but that jagged ache in his left forearm made him switch to his right. He stood, wobbling, looked at the wound — a thin shard of metal jutted out of it.

What did first aid dictate? Was he supposed to pull the shard out or leave it in?

A voice distracted him.

“Hold on, Nancy, I got you.”

Quentin turned to the sound of that voice — Trevor Haney, blood sheeting the black and white skin of his face. He pressed blood-covered hands down hard on Nancy Wolf’s thigh.

Virak stood up, Gredok once again cradled in his middle arm. Blood matted the Leader’s black fur, but Quentin couldn’t spot the wound. Even in the dim light, the Leader’s jewelry still glimmered. Virak’s jersey was torn and wet in places, but he didn’t look hurt.

Bobby Brobst stumbled in, his fancy suit ripped and smoldering, spotted with blood. Flames had scorched the right side of his face. He held a pistol with both hands, tight to his chest, the barrel pointed down and away.

“Brobst, I am not seriously injured,” Gredok said. “Where is Fon-Ga-Kal?”

“Dead,” Brobst said. The Human reached behind his back and drew a second pistol, this one larger and bulkier than his own. He offered it to Virak.

“Here’s his piece,” Brobst said. “The poor bastard, he got all tore up.”

The HeavyKi was
dead
? What the hell was happening?

Virak stuffed the pistol into the waistband of his black pants.

Hokor stood, little furry pedipalps vibrating in time with his coughs.

“What happened? Did we get attacked by another ship?”

The question cleared away the last of Quentin’s confusion. No, they hadn’t been shot by another ship; they’d been
bombed
— bombed by someone with access to the VR room, someone with the money to acquire equipment even better than what Gredok could afford.

Someone in the Zoroastrian Guild.

“Procknow was in the Zoroastrian Guild,” Quentin said. He didn’t know why he only said
Procknow
— and not
Kimberlin
as well — but those were the words that came out.

Virak and Gredok looked at Quentin, their expression identical and obvious:
how do you know that, and why didn’t you tell us before?

Quentin saw Virak and Gredok’s gaze shift slightly to their right, Quentin’s left. Gredok’s eye remained clear, but Virak’s instantly swirled with blacks and purples; colors that, together, revealed fear and sadness.

Quentin turned — there on the floor lay Kopor the Climber in a growing pool of his own blood, his middle right arm gone along with most of his midsection. The Warrior’s half-lidded eye stared lifelessly, the energy that used to be there faded and gone forever.

Gredok looked to the ceiling. “Captain Cheevers, come in.”

Everyone waited: there was no response.

“Comms are out,” Gredok said. He pointed at Kopor’s body. “That death is on your hands, Barnes. I will address your lack of communication later. We have to move before the attackers come to finish you off.”

“
Me?
Why do you think they’re after me?”

“Perhaps for assisting Yolanda Davenport with her story on Goldman. Perhaps someone in our organization took a payoff from the Jacks or someone who bet heavily on the game.”

“No way,” Quentin said. “Our teammates and the staff wouldn’t betray us.”

“Money always wins out over loyalty, Barnes, but the reason does not matter right now. If the attackers wanted to destroy the
Touchback
, they would have targeted the punch drive. Everyone in the organization knew you would be in the VR room this afternoon. Hence, the bomb was for
you
. This was obviously the work of an amateur, or we would all be dead.”