The MVP

14





Week Two: Ionath Krakens at Texas Earthlings



PLANET DIVISION

SOLAR DIVISION



1-0 Buddha City Elite

1-0 Bartel Water Bugs



1-0 Coranadillana Cloud Killers

1-0 Bord Brigands



1-0 Isis Ice Storm

1-0 Jupiter Jacks



1-0 OS1 Orbiting Death

1-0 Sheb Stalkers



1-0 To Pirates

1-0 Texas Earthlings



1-0 Yall Criminals

0-1 D’Kow War Dogs



0-1 Alimum Armada

0-1 Jang Atom Smashers



0-1 Hittoni Hullwalkers

0-1 Neptune Scarlet Fliers



0-1 Ionath Krakens

0-1 New Rodina Astronauts



0-1 Themala Dreadnaughts

0-1 Shorah Warlords



0-1 Wabash Wolfpack

0-1 Vik Vanguard





Excerpt from “Sorenson’s Guide to the Galaxy”

All Sentients Are Created Equal:

The Planetary union 

Origins on Earth

The Planetary union   is arguably one of the most powerful governments in the galaxy, second only to the Creterakian Empire. Other governments have more population than the union   (Sklorno Dynasty and Quyth Concordia), have greater economic power (the Ki Empire), have more advanced technology (the League of Planets) or outstrip the union   at exploration (the Quyth Concordia), but the point of interest is that the union   is number two or three in all of those categories. Add in the fact that the union   managed to retain most of its military and warships as part of its surrender agreement to the Creterakians in 2641, and you end up with a system that has resources, money, technology, education, population and the ability to protect itself against aggression and piracy.

One Planet Does Not a union   Make

Long before there were planets to “unify,” the Earth was a place of fractured political organizations. How fractured? There were more than 190 individual countries, 23 major languages and another 61 minor languages that each had at least 10 million native speakers. Armed conflicts were a regular occurrence. Some of these conflicts involved so many countries that they were called “world wars.” In addition to the normal causes for war, such as nationalism, religion, territory and natural resources, lack of cultural understanding and difficulty communicating were also significant factors.

Early in the 23rd century, advances in logistics, sciences and communication made it possible for many nations to operate as a single, efficient government. This led to the formation of the Unified Nations of Earth (UNE) in 2213, when — in order to counter the growing global dominance of China — the United States of America, Japan, Mexico, France, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, Australia and several smaller countries merged into a single democratic government.

Facing a planet of dwindling resources and fearing military expansion from both the UNE and China, other nations scrambled to form their own union  s. India-Pakistan, the United African States, the South American Nations and the Arab Caliphate quickly formed. Within a year of the UNE’s formation, 75 percent of the Earth’s population fell under the control of just six major governmental bodies. As each of the six nations possessed enough chemical and nuclear weaponry to exterminate the Human population several times over, most independent nations quickly chose to align with one of the six rather than face the possibility of annexation.


Over the next two years, several border disputes led to military engagements. The Earth found itself on the brink of world war.

As has happened so many times in the modern era, it was technology that helped overcome this dangerous stalemate. A pair of developments not only avoided a catastrophic conflict, but also led to the overall unification of Earth’s governments.

The first development was the Dozier Translator, a primitive AI module that could be carried in one hand and provided instantaneous translation all Earth languages. The “Doz-Tran,” as it was called, introduced new algorithms that converted speech from one language to another with 95-percent accuracy. It also accounted for cultural differences that often led to miscommunication. The second development was an invention of the Kriegs Corporations — a global, holographic projection system that allowed for realistic, face-to-face, real-time communication.

The combination of these two technologies allowed for the first global peace conference, held in 2215. As a world watched, representatives of all nations began a dialogue centered on how to avoid a war that would kill billions. While that first meeting produced little in the way of agreement, the high level of constructive communication set the stage for future peace conferences.

By 2281, two generations had grown up knowing nothing but open communication with people from every nation. In that year, the six major nations joined into a single, representative government dubbed the Earth union  . That government presided for over a century and a half of relative peace, exploration and scientific advancement until it merged with the planets Capizzi 7 and Satirli 6 to form the basis of the Planetary union   that still exists today.

Government

The Planetary union   is a representative government built on a system of checks and balances. The government has four levels, or strata, of increasing importance: local, continental, planetary and galactic. At all four levels, a congress is comprised of two chambers: the senate and the commons. A senate has an equal number of representatives from each predefined geographical area, while the commons has a number of representatives based on population levels within those geographical areas.

Most major decisions are made at the galactic level. Each of the Planetary union  ’s twelve planets or colonies are equally represented in the senate, while the number of commons representatives varies widely from Mars’s single representative to the 826 representatives of Earth.

Congress (also known as the Electoral Branch of government) is balanced against the Executive Branch (the Presidency), which is balanced against the Judicial Branch (the highest level of which is the Galactic Supreme Court). The union  ’s system has proven surprisingly resilient, as shown by almost six centuries of regular, peaceful transitions of power.

Room to Grow

The union   boasts eight planets as well as the four net colonies of Jupiter, Neptune, Saturn and Venus. Earth has the highest population with 12.4 billion citizens, while Mars is the smallest at just 12 million. The total population of the Planetary union   is 34.63 billion sentients, making it the third-most-populous system behind the Sklorno Dynasty (263 billion) and the Quyth Concordia (170 billion).

As for available natural resources, the Planetary union   is head and shoulders above all other systems. Jones, New Earth and Rodina are huge planets that are barely past the colonization stage. The union  ’s strategy of combining races — Humans for land, HeavyG for high-gravity worlds, Dolphins and water-breathing Humans for oceans, Harrah for gas giants — allows the system to pull the maximum amount of material from every world under its control.

A History of Pigskin

The Planetary union   is the birthplace of football. Because that sport has become the dominant force in intergalactic entertainment, Earth is a major tourist center for sports fans from across the galaxy. Cities that figure prominently in the history of “gridiron,” such as Canton, Elmira and Los Angeles, annually draw tens of millions of visitors. In a bit of odd irony, no team from Earth — where football was created — has ever won or even played in a Galaxy Bowl. Currently, the Texas Earthlings are the only Earth-based team in the GFL’s Tier One, the highest level of professional football.



Races

Humans are the union  ’s most-populous race with approximately 19.4 billion individuals. Humans are on all twelve of the union  ’s major population centers. Dolphins (Delphinus albietz) are the second-most populous with 4 billion spread across five planets and two net colonies. While Aqus Sapiens are the union  ’s third-most-populous race at 2.8 billion, the Harrah are the fastest-growing demographic. First emigrating to Jupiter, Saturn and Neptune in 2664, the union   Harrah population is 2.5 billion and counting as the race expands across the seemingly unlimited territory offered by those planets.

? ? ?



EARTH: THE BIRTHPLACE of Quentin’s species. And Humanity wasn’t the planet’s only sentient product; it had spawned Dolphins, Aqus, Prawatt, AI strains and — one could argue — the HeavyG. All from a planet and a people that had almost destroyed themselves a dozen times over before FTL travel made it possible for Humanity to spread to the stars.

Quentin had seen Earth back in his rookie season, when the Krakens won the Tier Two tournament. He’d played at Hudson Bay Stadium, one of the most amazing facilities he’d ever seen. So much history, so much tradition in visiting the world that created football. This time, however, would be his first visit to one of football’s most ancient and influential cities — Dallas.

Quentin stood by himself on the observation deck, golden bucket in hand. The Tweedy brothers had decorated the bucket with a white star lined in red and blue — the logo of this week’s opponent, the Texas Earthlings. Becca was one window over, waiting to see the planet upon which she’d played Tier Three ball.

The Tweedys had seen Earth so many times the view didn’t seem to interest them. A few veteran Sklorno stood on the deck, as did Michael Kimberlin and backup linebacker Samuel Darkeye. Quentin noticed that all of the rookies were here to watch the arrival: Sklorno defensive backs Niami and Sandpoint, third-string fullback Pete Marval, backup linebacker Pishor the Fang and HeavyG defensive tackle Jason Procknow. The rookies stood together, save for Procknow — he seemed to have found a place farthest away from everyone else.

Quentin felt the shimmer begin. He closed his eyes and waited. The feeling of slamming back into real-space washed over him, pulled at him and separated him, then it was gone. Nausea hit almost instantly. He threw up, tied the plastic bag, then looked out the viewport windows.

The cloud-speckled, blue world waited for him.

A corona of orbitals, ships and satellites surrounded the planet like some kind of sparse shell. The Touchback had punched out near Hudson Bay’s orbital station, the place where spaceships docked to load and unload passengers and cargo. Beneath that station, a silver tendril faded away down toward the planet’s surface — the space elevator that connected the orbital station to the floating city in the middle of Hudson Bay.

“That’s where it all started, huh?”

Quentin turned to see Jason Procknow standing next to him. Seven feet, eight inches tall and weighing over six hundred pounds, his long arms were thick with layers of muscle. The infinity tat on his forehead looked so new it hadn’t even faded — the lines were still sharp, crisp and dark.


Quentin nodded. “Yeah. That’s where it all started.”

Procknow smiled a nervous smile. “Good thing the Church left, though, right? Stewart had to find the chosen land. It was ordained.”

Quentin was only a couple of years older than this big HeavyG, and yet Procknow seemed like a wide-eyed kid. In a way, he was — a rookie’s first season brought an overload of new information for any player, more so for someone from the Purist Nation. Quentin again noticed the other rookies standing together, all seeing Earth maybe for the first time but doing it as a group. Jason wasn’t part of that group.

And then Quentin figured out what was happening — Procknow was trying to make friends.

“Never been to Earth before, rook?”

The big kid shook his head. “No, Elder Barnes.”

Quentin held up both hands. “Okay, first thing’s first, do not call me Elder, okay? I’m not part of the Church.”

Procknow’s brown eyes widened. “But … you’re from Micovi. You played for the Raiders.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t into the religious politics. I just played football.”

The HeavyG looked down. “Oh. Well, okay.”

That word, okay, actually meant: I thought you were like me. Quentin wondered what it had been like for a HeavyG kid to grow up in the galaxy’s most racist place. Without football, Procknow would likely have lived a life of constant abuse. A confirmed church member could have murdered him for the crime of not being Human, yet probably faced no criminal charges.

And now Jason found himself in Tier One, immersed among species he had been taught to hate.

The HeavyG looked up. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Quentin said. He slapped the kid on the shoulder. It was like slapping concrete. “I’ve seen you in practice. You’re working hard. Just keep doing that, keep listening to Coach and John, and you’ll be fine.”

Procknow smiled. “Okay, Eld— … I mean, Mister Barnes.”

“And don’t call me mister, either.”

Quentin turned to look out the viewport. Jason did the same.

The Touchback closed in on one of the miles-long piers that jutted out from the massive orbital station. Ships clustered along those piers looked like multicolored, metal caterpillars sitting lengthwise on a log. No shuttle trip to the surface this week; orbital shuttle traffic was not allowed on Earth due to repeated terrorist attacks. Without a government exemption, the only way down was a ride on one of the planet’s two space elevators.

The Touchback shuddered as mechanical arms connected and held it fast to the pier.

[TEAM DISEMBARK] the computer voice said. [ALL PLAYERS DISEMBARK.]

Quentin walked out of the viewing deck, barely aware that Jason walked near him or that the rest of the rookies were following along. Quentin’s mind was already lost in thoughts of the coming game. Second-straight road game. The Texas Earthlings were 1-0. Their defense, led by linebacker Alonzo Castro and All-Pro defensive tackle Chok-Oh-Thilit, had shut out the Jang Atom Smashers 17-0.

Well, there would be no shutout this week; Quentin had to find a way to win. They had hoped to fight for a title — if they started the season 0-2, that hope would be all but crushed.

? ? ?



THE VOICE BOOMED THROUGH Earthlings Stadium, joined by the polite applause of 112,000 fans.

“Here are your visitors, the Ionath Krakens!” Quentin led the Krakens out of the tunnel and into a pouring rain. They crossed an end zone painted red with blue-trimmed letters that spelled out TEXAS.

Past the end zone and onto the field itself, a luscious, thick green carpet, the same kind of plants that made up the Hudson Bay Station field. At the 50-yard line, a giant white star marked the center of the field. Lines and yard numbers done in blazing white finished off the field design, making it a classic throwback to the ancient days of the first football leagues.

As he jogged to the sidelines, he took in the stadium’s decks. A wide lower bowl led up to two rings of glassed-in booths, the upper ring for the luxury boxes of the rich and business elite, the lower ring filled with water for thousands of Dolphin, Aqus, Whitok and Leekee spectators. He saw plenty of Harrah in there as well, the species taking advantage of their ability to move freely in either water or air. Above the luxury box ring rose the upper deck, stretching up to the bottom edges of the white dome roof. It wasn’t a full dome — an open area the same length and width as the field protected the fans from the elements. Rain poured through the opening to the green turf below.

Blue- and white-clad fans packed the lower and upper decks, but — just like at Isis — several thousand wore the Orange and the Black. Quentin wanted to put on a good show for those die-hard Ionath fans. He reached the sidelines and raised his fist high. His teammates gathered around him. The time had come — they had to find a way to win, and they had to find it now.

? ? ?



“HELLO, FOOTBALL FANS, and welcome back to UBS Sports’ coverage of the Ionath Krakens at the Texas Earthlings. I’m Masara the Observant, and with me as always is Chick McGee.”

“Hello, Masara, hello, folks at home.”

“Chick, what a first half. The Earthlings can’t stop the Krakens, and the Krakens can’t stop the Earthlings.”

“You hit the Sklorno on the head, Masara. You can’t ask for much more from the Krakens’ offense. Barnes is on fire. He’s twelve of thirteen for two hundred yards even, with one touchdown pass and another on the ground. But Earthlings quarterback Case Johanson is putting up Barnes-like numbers himself — Johanson is fifteen of nineteen for a hundred and sixty yards with two TD passes of his own.”

“Chick, Coach Hokor the Hookchest even moved to a nickel defense, pulling a linebacker and bringing in Breedsville as a fifth defensive back to help out Vacaville on the corner. But when Hokor does that, the Earthlings are running the ball well, aren’t they?”

“The science of rockets is well within your universe-spanning brain power, Masara. The Texas rushing attack seems unaffected by these rainy conditions. Running back Peter Lowachee is effective on the ground but even more effective on screen passes. He had three catches for seventy yards. It’s not just Vacaville who is having a bad game for the Krakens. Hokor has rotated in rookie cornerback Niami in place of Vacaville, but Niami has been just as ineffective. What’s more, Ionath free safety Sandpoint — also a rookie — is getting cooked like a Whitok at a Leekee fondue party.”

“Chick! You know you can’t make jokes about one sentient species eating another, that’s —”

“Sorry, Masara, sorry, folks at home. Let’s just say the Krakens’ secondary is the reason the game is tied at fourteen-all. The two-minute warning is over, so let’s go down to the field for the conclusion of the first half.”

? ? ?



SECOND-AND-SIX from the Krakens’ 46-yard line.

Linemen in orange jerseys and black leg armor shot forward, slamming against defenders wearing blue leg armor with silver piping and bright red jerseys with silver-trimmed blue numbers and letters. Pouring rain splashed off of the Earthlings’ silver helmets and the blue-trimmed white star that decorated either side.

Quentin handed off to Ju Tweedy, who followed Becca around the right end. Their pounding steps kicked up arcing trails of water. Defensive tackle Chok-Oh-Thilit reached for Ju, but Michael Kimberlin blocked the big Ki just long enough for Becca and Ju to slip past. Linebacker Alonzo Castro came up fast and slammed into Becca, knocking her hard to the turf. While Castro got the better of the hit, the exchange allowed Ju to cut inside, big legs driving hard. The other Earthlings linebacker reached for Ju, but Ju slapped the reaching hands aside and was suddenly in the open field, angling for the touchdown. Quentin watched, breathless, hoping Ju could outrun the defense, but Minneapolis, the Earthlings’ cornerback, brought Ju down from behind just two yards shy of a red-painted end zone.


Ju ran off the field, and Yassoud ran on. The starting running back needed a breather after that 52-yard run. The Krakens huddled at the 10. His linemen waited for the play call, as did Becca, Yassoud, George Starcher and Hawick.

“All right, let’s put this in for six,” Quentin said. “Pro-set, shotgun, X-slant, Y-curl, A-wheel. Becca, stay home for the blitz, I know Alonzo is coming. On one, on one, ready?”

“BREAK!”

The Krakens quickly moved to their positions. Quentin stood five yards behind his center, Bud-O-Shwek. Yassoud lined up on his left, Becca on his right.

Quentin surveyed the defense. Angry eyes and dirty faces looked out from beneath the rain-streaked silver helmets. The Texas crowd was going crazy, as they had for the whole game. Ionath had been projected to compete for the league title, yet here were the 1—0 Earthlings going toe to toe with the Krakens. The stands beyond the end zone vibrated with jumping fans clad in red, white and blue, fans waving blue pom-poms and flags decorated with a single white star.

To Quentin’s right, defensive tackle Chok-Oh-Thilit dug in, four of his six feet actually planted in the red end zone. Quentin saw linebacker Alonzo Castro, someone he’d competed against back when they both played in the PNFL. Castro was small for the position but incredibly fast and smart, and if he came free he could knock you into next Tuesday.

Quentin looked to Alonzo’s feet, saw that the linebacker’s weight was on his toes. Was he coming on the blitz? If he was, Quentin could let Becca pick him up, then slip to the left, away from Chok-Oh, and possibly run it in for the score.

“Blue, fifteen,” Quentin called. “Blue, fifteen! Hut!”

Bud-O-Shwek flipped the ball back. Quentin snagged it out of the air and watched Starcher, Hawick and Yassoud begin their routes, but he didn’t watch long — sure enough, Castro blitzed. Becca stepped forward and tried to use the linebacker’s momentum against him, pushing him to the left. Quentin stepped right, letting Becca guide Castro past. Quentin started to move forward but saw the huge Michael Kimberlin falling backward, bowled over by the red-jerseyed Chok-Oh-Thilit. Chok-Oh compressed, the accordion-like gather that let the Ki expand violently and deliver crushing hits.

Quentin didn’t have time to cut left or right, so he went up, leaping just as Chok-Oh expanded. The sole of Quentin’s cleated black boot met the top of Chok-Oh’s silver helmet. The momentum spun Quentin violently, making him do two full, vertical 360-degree flips.

Quentin hit hard on his head, the blow rocking his brain and scrambling his thoughts. Hands grabbed him and pulled him up. He still had the ball in his hands, and he was standing on red-painted grass.

Touchdown, Krakens.

? ? ?



IN THE LOCKER ROOM AT HALFTIME, Hokor focused on his defense. He diagrammed plays on the holoboard, trying to make adjustments that would stop the Texas offense and protect Ionath’s 21-14 lead. Quentin watched, taking it all in.

Don Pine came up to stand next to him. “Kid, you’re on fire today.”

Quentin nodded. “Thanks.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Don said. “Your passes are dead-on. But remember, you don’t have to do it all on your own. Just because Johanson is keeping pace doesn’t mean you have to start taking risks. Protect the lead — don’t be afraid to just hit the deck and take a sack if it means we keep the ball.

Quentin nodded. Just one nod, actually, then he stopped because of the sudden flash of pain.

Don’s eyes narrowed in concern. “How’s the head?”

“Fine,” Quentin said instantly. “No problems.”

Don laughed quietly. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Doc Patah.”

Quentin and every Human on the team were supposed to report any problems after a blow to the head. But doing so might cause Patah to pull that player from the game; the league took hits to the head very seriously, and if Patah ignored a brain-related injury, he could lose his job.

Quentin’s head throbbed. He knew he should probably come out of the game, but he’d rather die first. Don’s smile said he knew exactly how Quentin felt and — were he in Quentin’s shoes — would do exactly the same thing.

Hokor’s scream of rage drew their attention. “You worthless defensive backs, run the schemes I call!” Hokor reached up with his pedipalps and grabbed his little hat. He pulled and twisted, tearing the material to pieces that he threw down on the floor. The Sklorno defensive backs shook with terror. The coach started stomping up and down on the pieces to drive the point home.

“He’s pretty angry,” Don said.

“He should be,” Quentin said. “If the defense doesn’t do something, all the points in the world aren’t going to be enough for the win.”

? ? ?



LATE IN THE FOURTH QUARTER Quentin stood tall in the pocket as pressure bore down from the left, the right and in front. He’d scrambled for big yards so many times that the Earthlings were attacking less all-out and more under control, trying to contain him, not give him anywhere to run. That kept Quentin from scrambling, but it also gave him more time to throw.

And if you gave Quentin time …

He gunned the ball toward Hawick, who was running step for step with Earthlings cornerback Minneapolis. Hawick somehow knew the ball would be coming, an unspoken connection between quarterback and receiver. She stopped at the 1-yard line and turned — the ball hit her almost immediately, before Minneapolis could react. As Minneapolis’s momentum carried her into the end zone, Hawick calmly stepped over the goal line for a 35-yard touchdown pass.

The Earthlings had continued putting up points, enough that they took a 28-24 lead into the fourth quarter. As Arioch knocked home the extra point, the lead changed hands again — this time 31-28 in favor of Ionath.

The Krakens were up by a field goal with three minutes to play. Now it was up to the defense.

? ? ?



THE KICKOFF RETURN put the Earthlings on their own 35-yard line. They had plenty of time for a game-winning drive, and they knew it. Johanson mixed it up with passes and runs. Peter Lowachee took advantage of the wet conditions, making cuts that forced John, Virak the Mean and Choto the Bright to change direction on the mud and slick grass. Whenever the running back touched the rock, he gained five or six yards. The Earthlings steadily drove the ball, picking up a pair of first downs and using two of their timeouts to reach the Ionath 41-yard line.

With only a minute to play, Johanson dropped back, planted, then ducked as John Tweedy came in hard. John got an arm on Johanson but slid away without bringing the man down. The quarterback scrambled right. Mum-O-Killowe extended, reaching out for the sack, but Johanson was just out of reach — the quarterback stumbled but stayed on his feet. Johanson ran right, cutting toward the line of scrimmage.

Quentin looked downfield and his heart sank. Vacaville had left her receiver and was coming up to stop the run. Just an inch from the line of scrimmage, Johanson stopped and threw a bullet to Leavenworth, the receiver Vacaville was supposed to be covering. The wide-open Leavenworth hauled in the pass and sprinted — untouched — down the right sideline for a touchdown.

With 47 seconds to play, the Earthlings converted the extra point to go up 35-31.

? ? ?



“CHICK, DO YOU THINK IONATH had enough time to pull off a last-minute comeback? Is this loss the fault of Quentin Barnes?”


“I don’t think you can blame him, Masara. The Krakens got the ball on their own twenty-two with just thirty-eight seconds to play. Barnes went five-for-five on that drive and used all of Ionath’s timeouts to get the ball to the Texas eleven with five seconds left. Barnes put the ball up into the back corner for a fade route to Hawick, but Minneapolis just managed to knock the pass down. Four times out of five, Hawick makes that catch, so I think Barnes did everything he could for the win — sometimes the cookie crumbles a cruel way.”

“Chick, this win moves the Earthlings to two-and-oh. What a shocking start for Texas.”

“Yes, Masara, but not as big a shocker as the Krakens losing their first two games. Once again they start the season in last place in the Planet Division. Despite Barnes throwing for a mind-boggling three hundred eighty-two yards and grabbing four touchdowns — two on the ground, two in the air — and despite Ju Tweedy rushing for an even one hundred yards and scoring a TD of his own, the Krakens come up on the losing end. Ionath has a bye in Week Three, so they better do something to improve that defensive backfield or they’re going to lose a lot more games before the 2685 campaign is over.”

“Chick, thanks for another great game of commentary. To all the sentients watching at home, this is Masara the Observant, signing off. Now back to the UBS studios.”

? ? ?



IN THE VISITOR’S HUMAN LOCKER ROOM, Quentin dressed slowly. Not only was his team winless, but he still had to do the post-game press conference. Oh, wouldn’t that be fun? Fifty-plus reporters asking him what was wrong with the Krakens, if the season was basically over already, how did it feel to be 0-2 and a dozen other idiotic questions. What was he going to say? That his defensive secondary was horrible? That if they didn’t make a trade for new players, the season was basically over? Quentin didn’t want to do the press conference at all, but it was part of the job; he would get it done.

Yassoud was waiting for him. After the game, ’Soud pointed out that Quentin had never seen a real Earth city before. Quentin had walked around Hudson Bay Station, but according to ’Soud that place “didn’t count” because “it wasn’t that old.” Dallas, on the other hand, was supposedly founded something like eight centuries ago.

Quentin slowly buttoned his shirt. Maybe if he took long enough, the media would just go home.

Yassoud sighed. “Quit lollygagging, Hayseed. I want to get out on the town while the night is young.”

“Do you have to be so excited about it? We’re winless, ’Soud.”

The bearded man nodded. “Yes, and if I allow myself to descend into the depths of misery and despair, guess what? We’re still winless. So, why let it ruin a good time? We’ll get to work tomorrow, Q — trust me, I’m just as upset as you are.”

Quentin doubted that.

Messal the Efficient scurried into the locker room. His single eye swirled with green, the color of stress.

“Elder Barnes, you are scheduled at the press conference in fifteen minutes! It is always best to be there early, and if we do not leave now, we might actually be late.”

Yassoud pointed at the Quyth Worker. “See, Q? Even Messal says you lollygag.”

Quentin slid his feet into his shoes. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said as he reached for his tailored shirt. “Messal, I’m almost ready. Wait for me out in the central locker room.”

Messal shifted to his left foot, then his right, another sure sign of his growing anxiety. He turned and walked out.

Quentin stopped stalling. He buttoned the shirt, then pulled on his tailored coat. He wasn’t crazy about dressing up, but as the face of the franchise he had a responsibility to look professional.

They walked out of the Human locker room into the communal area. Messal was waiting for them, but they also saw John Tweedy standing by the holoboard. Instead of his usual sweatpants and T-shirt, the linebacker wore a suit that was just as sharp as Quentin’s.

Yassoud laughed and clapped. “Looking good, Uncle Johnny! You dressed up for me? How sweet.”

Despite the dragging feeling of starting the season with two losses, Quentin couldn’t help but laugh — John just looked so uncomfortable in the outfit.

“Yeah, John,” Quentin said. “You’re looking real classy to head out with us for a beer. You find a bar with a dress code or something?”

John pulled at his collar, which was a little too tight and made his neck skin puff out. “Um, sorry, guys, I’m not going out tonight.”

Quentin and Yassoud exchanged a look.

“You,” Yassoud said. “John Tweedy. Not going out.” Yassoud stepped up and put a hand on John’s forehead. “You sick or something?”

John rolled his eyes and pushed Yassoud away. “Sickly awesome, maybe. Naw, I’m fine. Becca and I have to hit Wisconsin.”

Quentin’s brief ember of good humor faded away. Something tickled at his insides, like there was a hand in there wiggling its fingers.

Yassoud leaned back, looking as if he’d smelled something bad. “A wisconsin? What is that?”

“It’s a where,” Quentin said, “not a what. That’s where Green Bay is, home of the Packers.”

Yassoud’s face lit up. “Oh, the Tier Three Packers? NFL stuff?”

John nodded. “Yeah. Becca’s parents moved to Green Bay when she played for the Packers. They still live there.”

The wiggling hand inside of Quentin clenched into a hard fist. “You’re going to meet Becca’s parents?”

EVERY MOTHER’S DREAM flashed across John’s face. “That’s right. Hey, Q, you know Becca pretty good … think she’ll like this?”

John pulled a velvet box out of his pocket. Inside was a piece of jewelry: a football made of brown diamonds with white diamonds for the laces. The thing was the size of a golf ball.

“It’s a pin!” John said. “She can wear it on her shirt, or whatever, when she sees her parents. She’s gotta like it ’cause it cost a fortune! Girls like expensive stuff, right?”

Yassoud started laughing. John glared at him.

The pin had to be one of the ugliest things Quentin had ever seen. Becca wasn’t about money or diamonds or a big show of wealth. She would hate it — and if she let that dislike show, John would be crushed.

“Uh, Uncle Johnny, it’s great,” Quentin said. “But I think it might be a bit … a bit much.”

John’s shoulders drooped. “Oh, really? Dammit, Q, I totally wanted to get her something mega-nice. What should I get instead?”

The guy looked devastated, but John was right about one thing — Quentin did know Becca, and he had an idea. He waved Messal over. The Worker came quickly, although he made a show of checking the time on his palm-up display as he did.

“How can I be of service, Elder Barnes?”

“Messal, how are you with the acquisition of antiques and artifacts?”

“I have extensive contacts throughout the galaxy,” he said. His eye swirled with a reddish-orange, a color that showed pride. “You have seen Gredok’s art collection? I am his procurer. Does that answer your question?”

“That depends,” Quentin said.

“On what, Elder Barnes?”

“On what a procurer is.”

Messal’s pedipalps twitched. “To procure is to obtain an object, Elder Barnes.”


Quentin nodded. “Do you think you could procure a rare artifact from ancient football days?”

“Well, Elder Barnes, as I’m sure you know, I am exceedingly well-connected in the football community. It is my business to maintain relationships with multiple individuals from every team and track what favors are owed to and from whom. If the object you seek can be procured, I will procure it.”

Quentin glanced at John. John looked wide-eyed and hopeful — he wanted to impress Becca in the worst way. There was something off about doing this for John, but he was Quentin’s friend.

“We need you to procure an antique championship ring,” Quentin said. “The Green Bay Packers won something like thirteen or fourteen titles in the twentieth century, so find John a ring from one of those.”

John’s jaw dropped. “The twentieth century? That’s not just ancient, that’s super-mega-ancient. Jeeze, Q — is something like that even for sale?”

Messal rubbed his pedipalp hands together. “Everything is for sale, Mister Tweedy, it is only a matter of availability and price. Finding an ancient artifact like that will be difficult, and it will be very expensive. I might have to expand the search to include their titles from the twenty-first century, would that be acceptable?”

John looked at Q. WOULD SHE STILL LIKE THAT? scrolled across his face.

Quentin nodded. “Sure, that would work. If you can’t find the real thing, get an accurate replica.”

“I understand your request,” Messal said. “And when would you need this item?”

“Right away,” Quentin said. “You’ll probably have to ship it to Wisconsin, that’s where John is heading.”

Messal’s pedipalps twitched again. “You want a six-century-old artifact, and you want it right away? Are you joking?”

John grabbed the much smaller Worker by his middle shoulders. “No joke, you efficient bastard! Can you do it? I know it will cost a ton, but I’ve got money. Here—” John handed him the diamond-encrusted pin “—sell this for starters!”

Messal took the pin as if it was dangerous to touch. “Ah, this is apparently some form of … jewelry. And was this to be a gift for Miss Montagne?”

John nodded furiously.

Messal flipped the pin over, looked at it from all sides. “Mister Tweedy, if I may be so bold, you would be well served to consult me before buying gifts. For anyone. Ever again in your entire life. Or talk to Elder Barnes, as his championship ring idea is excellent.”

The door to the HeavyG locker room opened. Rebecca Montagne walked out, but she didn’t look like The Wrecka. She didn’t even look like a football player.

Yassoud let out a low whistle. “Wow, Becca. You clean up nice for a face-smashing fullback.”

She blushed and looked down. “Thanks, ’Soud.”

Becca wore a blue dress tailored to fit her muscular, athletic form. Her silky black hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders. She had high heels on that took her from 6-foot-6 to maybe 6-foot-10, just a couple inches shorter than Quentin. The heels also made her four inches taller than John, but the smile on John’s face showed he didn’t care.

“Wow, butter-nose,” he said. “You look hot! I sure am glad I wore this suit. I’ve never seen you dress up like this.”

She shrugged. “It’s kind of for my mom. She’s never really accepted the life I chose. She still wants a daughter that’s more … feminine.”

Quentin couldn’t stop staring. Becca was … beautiful.

John walked over and took her hand. “Come on, sweetie-shoes. We’re going to be late for our jump-flight to Wisconsin.”

They walked to the locker room door. Becca’s eyes met Quentin’s for a moment, then she looked away. Had she seemed … embarrassed?

John stopped at the door. He looked back at Messal, raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

Messal walked forward quickly. “I will take care of that equipment request for you, Mister Tweedy,” he said. “Enjoy your trip and don’t give it another thought.”

John smiled wide. “Thanks, Messal. You are just the procuriest of all procuriosities.”

John waved goodbye to Quentin and Yassoud, then walked out hand in hand with Becca.

Yassoud shook his head. “Meeting the parents? I didn’t know people still did that.”

“They do,” Quentin said. “Old-fashioned people. Or at least, old-fashioned people that actually have parents.”

“Hey, Q, if John’s not coming out, mind if I bring Tim Crawford?”

Quentin shrugged. “Sure, why not?” The HeavyG backup defensive tackle had played well against the Earthlings, at least during the few plays where Mum-O-Killowe actually came out of the game. “You been hanging out with him?”

“Oh, yep,” Yassoud said. “You’re always in your room and John’s been chasing after Becca lately — a guy needs drinking buddies, right? Tim’s always down for a trip to the bar.”

John was chasing after Becca. Maybe if Quentin hadn’t spent so much time buried in study, he’d have seen that.

“Well, Tim’s okay in my book,” Quentin said. “Just make sure he doesn’t get us in any fights.”

Yassoud raised his eyebrows. “I’ll do my best. The lad’s a free spirit, if you know what I mean.”

Quentin heard a buzz. Messal lifted his pedipalp, again activating his palm-up. Quyth language symbols floated there, rapidly flashing by. The Worker’s single eye instantly went from clear to crimson — the color of fear.

“Messal, what’s wrong?”

The Worker closed his hand and looked at Quentin. “That was a message from Gredok. He is in a meeting room in this stadium, discussing the game with Coach Hokor. You are to attend your press conference, then see Gredok immediately. He said that two losses are unacceptable. He wants answers, Elder Barnes — and he wants them from you.”

? ? ?



QUENTIN FOLLOWED Messal the Efficient through the corridors of Zhang Punch Drives Stadium, home of the Earthlings.

The press conference had been brutal. He’d thrown for 382 yards and put up four TDs, yet all the media cared about was the winless start of the season and that failed last-minute drive. That jerk Jonathan Sandoval from Net Colony News Syndicate had been the worst: Aren’t championship quarterbacks measured by wins, Quentin? Don’t you think that Frank Zimmer would have pulled off that comeback drive and won the game?

The problem was the Krakens’ defense, yet all the questions were about his game, his leadership, his inability to complete that last pass. That was the life of a GFL quarterback — every loss was your fault. That’s what reporters thought. That’s what fans thought.

And, apparently, that’s what owners thought.

“So, Messal,” Quentin said. “You looked kind of scared when Gredok messaged you. What did he say?”

“Oh, Elder Barnes, I do not think the details are important.”

“He hasn’t seen me since we got back from Prawatt space,” Quentin said. “Now, he wants to talk to me, and you looked like you were going to molt on the spot. Come on, what did he say?”

Messal stopped and turned. He spoke quietly. “My shamakath told me that if I did not deliver you to him immediately after the press conference, he would see that I was visited by a Harrah with a flaying hook.”


“A flaying hook? Is that bad?”

That crimson color swirled across his eye again. “Bad does not begin to describe it, Elder Barnes. I am just happy that you have come along quietly.”

Messal turned and continued down the hall. Quentin followed.

A flaying hook. That was the measure of Gredok’s anger? Well, he wasn’t the only one who was furious — Quentin had been waiting for months to have a word with the little Leader.

Messal stopped at a door. It hissed open. He gestured inside with his pedipalp. “Gredok the Splithead waits for you in there, Elder Barnes.”

Maybe Messal was terrified, but Quentin was not. Maybe he’d grab the Leader and shake him like a toy, bounce him off the walls a couple of times. That would feel good. He strode into the room.

Gredok sat at the head of a long table. Behind him on his left stood Bobby Brobst, his tight-end-sized Human bodyguard. Behind Gredok’s right shoulders stood the huge HeavyKi that Quentin had fought in Torba the Hungry’s, the night Frederico had brought Jeanine to expose the fake Cillian Carbonaro. The HeavyKi wore black eye patches over two of his five eyes.

Sitting at the table to Gredok’s right: Virak the Mean. The linebacker wore gray pants and nothing else, his combat enamels and chitin engravings exposed for all to see. His right pedipalp was wrapped in blue gauze, the result of an injury suffered against the Earthlings just hours earlier.

The message was clear: even if Quentin could take out Virak — and Quentin doubted that was possible — he still had to face Brobst and the HeavyKi.

Virak used his good pedipalp to gesture at an open chair to his right.

“Sit,” the Warrior said. “My shamakath wants a word.”

Quentin stared at the well-dressed, bejeweled, black-furred Leader. To hit that evil creature, to hear him beg for his life …

What would Gredok do?

Gredok would pretend to let the past go. He would pretend nothing was wrong and bide his time, waiting for the right moment to strike. If Quentin wanted revenge, he couldn’t force it — he had to beat the team owner at his own game.

Quentin sat. “What can I do for you, Gredok?”

“We need to talk business,” the Leader said. “Can we do that, or are you still too emotional over my little ruse?”

Quentin closed his eyes. He felt his temper brewing, accepted it and pushed it away. He calmed himself, made his pulse, breathing and body language all normal.

“You got the better of me,” he said. “But I signed the contract, which means the incident is over. You won. I’m a Kraken. So if you want to talk business, then talk.”

“We are winless,” Gredok said. “How is it that we are the worst team in the league?”

Quentin shrugged. “We’re not the worst. We almost won both games.”

The Leader leaned forward. “Almost? I deal in absolutes, Barnes. For example, we are in last place. We are absolutely heading back to Tier Two unless you do something.”

Quentin spread his hands. “What do you want me to do, Gredok? Should I go out and play defensive back?”

Virak’s pedipalps twitched. “As if you could play defense.”

Gredok slapped the table. “Silence! Virak, no one spoke to you. So, Barnes — what are you going to do?”

Quentin could pretend to be over the pain of a fake father, but that didn’t mean he had to roll over and die. If Quentin was too accommodating, Gredok would see right through that.

“No, Gredok, what are you going to do? We need defensive backs. You’re supposed to be the master of talent acquisition, so do your job and get us some players.”

“The trade offer for Don Pine still stands. I can have an All-Pro corner here in three days, but you don’t want that, do you.”

Quentin waved a hand dismissively. “We need Pine and I don’t want to go over this again. What’s the matter, one trade is the best you can do?”

Gredok leaned back in his chair, folded his pedipalp hands together. “I have hired two dozen scouts to look everywhere, even college football.”

“Then hire more scouts, look in more places,” Quentin said. “I’m kind of busy running your football team. Or should I use my bye week to go scouting and do your job for you?”

Black swirled across Gredok’s eye. Quentin knew Gredok had killed for less, but he wouldn’t harm his franchise quarterback.

“Barnes, I assure you, I have looked everywhere. There is not one player in known space that my scouts have not examined. There is no talent left to be had!”

Quentin laughed. Gredok’s eye swirled thicker with inky black.

“Look, Gredok, you are the one responsible for bringing in new talent. If our defensive backfield can’t get the job done, then you have … ”

Quentin’s voice trailed off. Known space. Gredok had looked everywhere in known space. But there was one place he hadn’t looked.

Was that even possible?

The black faded from Gredok’s eye. “Barnes, you look like you might regurgitate on this table. Are you feeling unwell? Perhaps that hit to your head was worse than Doc Patah thought?”

Quentin blinked. The room seemed to come back into focus.

Why not? Just why the shuck not?

“I know where we can get defensive backs,” he said. “There’s a whole system of available players. I played them head to head, and I know I can teach them to be great defensive backs.”

“Teach them? Who are they?” Gredok stared. Then the black faded from his eye, replaced by swirls of blue-green. He understood.

“Barnes, if you think this is a good time to exhibit your ridiculous sense of humor, you are mistaken.”

“I’m not joking.”

Gredok’s black fur ruffled. “Are you saying you want the Prawatt to be our defensive backs?”

Quentin nodded. “They’re just as fast as the Sklorno, and they can jump just as high. They hit like a battering ram.” He leaned forward, letting himself get excited, letting Gredok see that excitement. “It’s an entire nation of athletes that have never stepped onto a football field. How is it no one saw this before? We can save the season!”

Gredok stood on his chair, then on the table. He walked down the table to stand in front of Quentin. Virak tensed up, ready for Quentin to make a move, but Quentin stayed perfectly still.

“Barnes,” Gredok said, “you were hit on the head harder than we feared. You want the scourge of the galaxy to wear my uniform? You want these killers to suit up on Sunday?”

Quentin shook his head. “They’re athletes. I played against them, Gredok — they’re not killers.”

Gredok’s fur fluffed, then lay flat. “Not killers? Barnes, how many beings died in that single game you played?”

“Two,” Quentin said instantly. “And why is that any different than the GFL? Every other week the stats column lists one casualty, sometimes more. Football is a blood sport, Gredok. I’ll bring in sentients that are willing to die if that’s what it takes to win.”

Gredok’s eye flooded black, and on top of that black bits of red swirled madly. “You are an ignorant hatchling, Barnes. Do you think the Creterakians will let that happen? And if the bats somehow actually agree, do you think that tiny dictator Froese would ever allow it?”

Quentin leaned back. He hadn’t thought of that. The idea had just sprung into his head so fast he hadn’t had a moment to consider the complications.


He thought back to a private conversation he’d had with Commissioner Froese. Froese dreamed of cleaning up the GFL, and he wanted Quentin’s help. Gangsters owned every franchise — any effort to wrest control away from them would bring retribution, violence and death.

I need sentients that are strong, that can face the danger, Froese had said. What kind of sentient are you?

The Prawatt were truly alien: they didn’t have families that could be kidnapped, and Quentin wasn’t even sure if they cared about money. Gangsters like Gredok wouldn’t be able to control the Prawatt the way they controlled other players, players like Don Pine.

Quentin knew that Froese would allow the Prawatt. He started to say as much, then stopped himself — Gredok hated Froese. Quentin could use that hate; could he make Gredok think that bringing Prawatt into the league would actually anger Froese?

“Gredok, just think for a minute,” Quentin said. “As far as the bats are concerned, the whole point of the GFL is to help the different species get along. If you can bring in even a couple of Prawatt and have them play with us, in the true spirit of the GFL, not only would the Creterakians go for it, they’d probably give you a medal.”

“I do not care about medals.”

Quentin threw up his hands. Virak twitched, but stayed seated.

“Do you care about our season?” Quentin said. “Because if the Prawatt can hang and bang with the Sklorno, they can save it.”

“These Prawatt players,” the Leader said quietly. “Are they really that good?”

Quentin nodded. “They are. I don’t know how long it will take to teach them basic football skill and our defensive schemes, but the ones I played against are galaxy-class athletes. They’re ten times better than Vacaville.”

Gredok stared, stared hard, then he blinked and looked away. “I do not know about this idea.”

Play your trump card, play it now.

Quentin tapped into the rage he felt from just looking at Gredok, let that anger make his heart pump a little faster.

“You’re right about Froese, though,” Quentin said. “There’s no way he’d let it slide. He fined me for rescuing an innocent man, you know? I mean, if you bring in the Prawatt it would be a step towards shucking galactic peace, but Froese would squash it because nobody can tell him what to with his league.”

Quentin stopped talking. He looked away, in case his eyes might betray his effort at manipulating a master manipulator. Gredok had to think this was his idea.

Gredok was quiet for a moment, then he slowly rubbed his pedipalp hands together.

“Yes, that would put Froese in a difficult position,” the Leader said. “I would be doing something that facilitated interspecies cooperation. He would stop it, but in doing so, he’d look like a racist. It would almost be like —”

Gredok’s voice trailed off. Quentin finished the thought for him.

“It would be like you are the good guy,” Quentin said. “And Froese would be the bad guy.”

Gredok’s eye now swirled with traces of yellow-orange. “We still don’t know if the Prawatt would play, or if they would even be any good if they did. We have to find a way for you to send a message into the Jihad space to see if this is even possible, but the Creterakians are blocking all communication in and out of Prawatt space for fear of accidentally angering them and starting a war. I would have to use my contacts in the Creterakian Navy, but using those contacts carries a steep price and a great deal of risk.”

Quentin fought to control his excitement — he almost had it.

“We don’t need to use your contacts,” he said. “If we leave now, the Touchback can be across the border in three days. We have to hope that Captain Bumberpuff’s ship is still in the same position, and then—”

Gredok held up a pedipalp hand, cutting Quentin off.

“Barnes, did you just say we should take the Touchback across the border?”

“Yeah,” Quentin said, nodding rapidly. “Bumberpuff already knows our ship, so—”

“Have you been drinking?”

Quentin paused. “Huh?”

Gredok leaned closer. “I said, have you been drinking? Did you take a hit of pyuli? Or perhaps you ate raw juniper berries?”

What was wrong? Gredok had bought into the plan, Quentin had felt it. “Juniper berries don’t work on Humans. What’s your point?”

“The point, Barnes, is that you must be on some type of controlled substance if you think you’re taking my multimillion-credit team bus back to Prawatt space.”

“But … but they know the Touchback! It’s totally safe.”

Gredok’s pedipalps twitched up and down; his equivalent of hysterical laughter. “Taking my team bus — without which we will have a difficult time competing in road games — to a border where ships explode for no apparent reason and where pirates have already attacked us, then into a region where most sentients are never heard from again is what you consider safe? The answer is no — you will not take my ship.”

Quentin felt the heat of frustration in his face, realized he was breathing faster. He quickly calmed himself. Gredok obviously would not be convinced, but there had to be another way … the Hypatia had a punch drive, maybe he could get Frederico to pilot it again, and then —

“I said no,” Gredok said. “Not my ship, and not your ship, either.”

Quentin stared in disbelief. He must have let his focus slip for just a moment, let his tells show again. Gredok had all but read his mind.

“Gredok, you have to trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“I know what you’re not doing,” Gredok said. “What you’re not doing is ever setting foot inside Prawatt space again, not while you’re under contract with me. Virak?”

The Warrior leaned forward. “Yes, Shamakath?”

“Call your contacts in the Ionath orbital defense forces. Tell them to make sure the Hypatia doesn’t leave orbit without my permission.”

“Of course, Shamakath.”

“You can’t do that,” Quentin said. “That ship is my property.”

Gredok waved a pedipalp hand in annoyance. “My season is already enough of a disaster without losing my franchise quarterback. I will not rule your idea out entirely, Barnes. Compose a message for the Prawatt and give it to Messal. When we return home, I will make inquiries with the Creterakian garrison and see if we can send that message. However—” Gredok pointed at him “—under no circumstances will you leave Ionath, unless it is for a road game. Now, Virak, escort Barnes to the shuttle and accompany him to the Touchback. See that he stays there until we depart for Ionath.”

Virak stood and waited. Quentin had been dismissed. The Leader walked back down the table and, once again, sat in his chair.

The last of Quentin’s control slipped away. His hands curled into fists. He squeezed his eyes tight. He wanted to hit, he wanted to hurt.

A heavy hand on his shoulder. Quentin opened his eyes to see Virak leaning in close.

“You should calm yourself,” the Warrior said. “If you choose to do something rash, John Tweedy and Choto the Bright are not here to help you this time.”

Quentin looked once more at the black-furred Leader, then turned and walked out of the room. Virak followed.

Once again, Gredok seemed to be one step ahead. Quentin had thought he’d won this round, yet here he was being escorted to the Touchback like a prisoner, like the slave that he was.


Gredok had a chance to put the Krakens back on top, yet he wanted to play it safe. He wanted to wait for next year to make a run at the title.

Quentin knew that tomorrow was never promised, and that next year might never come.

As he walked, an idea suddenly hit him. There was a way, something audacious yet obvious.

And, more importantly, something that would infuriate Gredok the Splithead.

Quentin smiled, then forced the smile away. This time, he would think through all the possibilities before he said a word to anyone.

? ? ?



QUENTIN SAT ON THE COUCH in his ship quarters, waiting for the right moment. In his hands, he held the message cube Frederico had given him back at the Blessed Lamb.

[ALL PASSENGERS, PREPARE FOR PUNCH-OUT IN TWO MINUTES.]

Quentin squeezed the cube’s sides. A menu flared to life above it, showing icons of movie posters. He used the tip of his finger to flip through the menu, looking for the ones that started with the letter M.

There it was: Muybridge.

He hit play. The strangest movie began; it was just a side view of a horse with a jockey, running from left to right. The images were flat, black and white … they were ancient. Frederico had said this was the first movie ever?

It lasted all of ten seconds. The trip home from Earth would take three days. If playing the movie actually sent a message to Frederico, hopefully he’d be waiting when the Touchback punched out at Ionath.

It was one thing for Fred to get the message — it was something altogether different to think he’d agree to be a part of Quentin’s crazy plan.



GFL WEEK TWO ROUNDUP

Courtesy of Galaxy Sports Network



Week Two of the Tier One season resonated with home-field advantage, as nine of the eleven hosting teams found victory.

OS1 and Yall moved to 2-0 to stay atop the Planet Division standings. The Orbiting Death won an overtime thriller 30-27 over the Isis Ice Storm (1-1), while Yall trounced the To Pirates (1-1) by a score of 42-28. The quarterbacks of those two first-place teams had similar performances: OS1’s Condor Adrienne threw for 280 yards and three touchdowns, while the Criminals’ Rick Renaud hit rookie receiver Concord for four TD strikes.

In the Solar Division, three teams are tied for first place: Bartel, Jupiter and Texas all moved to 2-0 on the season.

Jupiter quarterback Steve Compton threw for two touchdowns and no interceptions. The Jacks’ 2-0 start is unexpected following the death of quarterback Shriaz Zia in last year’s Galaxy Bowl.

“We’re a team, not just one player,” said Jacks owner JT Manis. “We lose a guy, another guy steps in. If you’re surprised we’re in the title hunt again, well, then you’re very stupid.”

The Earthlings’ second win of the season came at the expense of the Ionath Krakens (0-2). Despite a 382-yard, four-TD performance by fourth-year quarterback Quentin Barnes, and despite over 532 yards of total offense, Ionath fell 35-31. Earthlings quarterback Case Johanson had a career-best day, going 26-of 32 for 315 yards and two touchdowns. Texas running back Peter Lowachee rushed for 82 yards, while fullback Pookie Chang rushed for 22 yards and a pair of touchdowns.

Deaths

Becky Procknow, fullback for the Isis Ice Storm, on a clean hit by Yalla the Biter. Isis owner Steve Libby has appealed the on-field ruling, claiming that Yalla intentionally severed Procknow’s jugular vein after the play was complete. GFL Commissioner Rob Froese has promised an immediate review of all game footage. A second-year player, Procknow was the cousin of Ionath Krakens’ rookie defensive tackle Jason Procknow.

Offensive Player of the Week

Concord, rookie wide receiver for the Yall Criminals. Concord caught touchdown passes of 82, 45, 36 and 7 yards en route to an 11-catch, 225-yard day.

Defensive Player of the Week

Yalla the Biter, linebacker for the OS1 Orbiting Death. Yalla recorded five solo tackles and three sacks in the Death’s overtime win over Isis. Yalla’s fatal hit of Becky Procknow was the eleventh of his career, making him the GFL’s all-time most-lethal player.