The MVP

24





Week Twelve: Wabash Wolfpack at Ionath Krakens



PLANET DIVISION

SOLAR DIVISION



10-0 y. Yall Criminals

9-1 x. Bartel Water Bugs



8-2 x. To Pirates

8-2 Vik Vanguard



7-3 Wabash Wolfpack

7-3 Texas Earthlings



6-4 OS1 Orbiting Death

6-4 Jupiter Jacks



5-5 Alimum Armada

5-5 Bord Brigands



5-5 Ionath Krakens

5-5 Neptune Scarlet Fliers



4-6 Isis Ice Storm

5-5 Sheb Stalkers



3-7 Buddha City Elite

4-6 Jang Atom Smashers



3-7 Coranadillana Cloud Killers

3-7 D’Kow War Dogs



3-7 Themala Dreadnaughts

1-9 New Rodina Astronauts



2-8 Hittoni Hullwalkers

1-9 Shorah Warlords



x = playoffs, y = division title, * = team has been relegated





QUENTIN’S RECEIVERS seemed to glow. Invisible lines of moving energy connected him to his teammates, lines upon which each pass rode for a completion no matter where defenders were or how little space they allowed. His throws seemed effortless, perfect.

It wasn’t as if the Wolfpack defense played poorly. They came at Quentin with overload blitzes, delayed blitzes and corner blitzes, but he saw everything — if they blitzed, that meant a Kraken was open, and Quentin did not miss. When the Wolfpack did not blitz, he had time to check through his teammates and thread the ball laser-tight into moving windows of opportunity.

Wabash’s defensive backs weren’t the league’s best, but they were far from the worst. Veteran cornerback Mars and safety Mississauga had already faced Quentin three times — that afternoon, their experience didn’t matter. The way he played they might as well have been Tier Two rookies.

What Quentin saw, Quentin took, and that day he saw everything.

He felt extra satisfaction from each pass he completed to a receiver covered by cornerback Gladwin or free safety Cooperstown. The Krakens had tried to pick up both players the year before, but Wabash owner Gloria Ogawa had signed them away, intentionally spending just enough money to keep those Sklorno players from wearing orange and black.

In the first half, Quentin completed passes to Denver, Milford, Halawa, Tara the Freak, Crazy George Starcher, Becca and Yassoud. In the second half, he hit his top three Sklorno receivers time and time again while also connecting with Mezquitic, Yotaro Kobayasho and even Ju Tweedy. On the day, Quentin hit 10 different Krakens for a total of 38 completions.

The offensive onslaught didn’t stop even when Ju went out of the game with a broken leg late in the second quarter. Yassoud came in and posted the best game of his career, rushing for a hundred yards and a pair of touchdowns. Quentin couldn’t have been happier for the man. Ju’s break was clean, which meant he’d be back in the lineup in just a few days, but it was great for ’Soud to finally prove his worth as a solid backup.

As a team, the Krakens racked up 42 points. The Ionath defense took another step forward and held Wabash to just 21 — a sound whoopin’ on both sides of the ball.

After the game, Quentin heard the cacophonous cheers of the Big Eye crowd as he walked out to mid-field to shake hands with the Wolfpack players. There he met his quarterbacking counterpart, Rich Bennett, who just smiled and shook his head, an expression that said how in the hell were we supposed to beat you when you play like that?

Quentin shook hands with everyone he could find, stopping every now and then to look up to the owner’s box high above the stadium’s first deck. There he saw Gredok the Splithead standing next to Wolfpack owner Gloria Ogawa. Quentin could almost feel Gredok’s smug satisfaction at having beaten his biggest rival, could almost taste Ogawa’s rage at having lost to hers. Ionath had won two of the last three contests against Wabash, but as far as Quentin was concerned, the Wolfpack had won the game that really mattered — last year’s opening round of the playoffs.

Quentin finished his hand-shaking, then ran to the retaining wall to high-five the Krakens faithful. His teammates fell in line behind him. The fans ate it up, cheering their players and the fact that Ionath had moved to 6-5. He realized the Prawatt still weren’t part of that celebration — perhaps they wanted to get back to the locker room and didn’t feel comfortable getting that close to the fans. Quentin couldn’t blame them for that.


Scores from some of the afternoon games had already come in — unfortunately, OS1 had won. The Orbiting Death and the Wolfpack were both 7-4, but Ionath had defeated both squads. If either of those teams lost their last game to finish 7-5, and Ionath won their final outing to end with the same record, the Krakens had the head-to-head tiebreaker and would grab the Planet Division’s final playoff spot.

It all came down to Week Thirteen. Ionath had to travel to the planet To, had to beat the Pirates on the road. One more win, a loss by either Wabash or OS1, and the Krakens would ride a four-game winning streak into the playoffs.

It wasn’t all good news, though — defensive tackle Mai-An-Ihkole went out in the fourth quarter with a back injury. There was no word yet as to the severity. Without him lining up against the Pirates one week from now, the Krakens’ defense would suffer greatly.

At least John hadn’t caused any problems. He’d been quiet and intense all week, but he’d kept his personal issues off the field.

Just one more game — if John could stay focused for just one more game, then the only thing on his mind, the only thing on any of their minds, would be the playoffs.

The playoffs, and a GFL title.

? ? ?



SWEATSHIRT HOODS PULLED UP over their heads, Quentin Barnes and Choto the Bright walked into the Ionath City Police station at Fifth Ring and Third Radius roads.

“John and the others chose a poor time to lose discipline,” Choto said. “Gredok will not be happy.”

It was halfway between midnight and dawn, a time when all Krakens should have been asleep. Instead, Quentin was here to bail out his middle linebacker.

Quentin looked around the police station. There were twenty or thirty sentients in the station’s waiting room, some nursing various cuts and bruises, some cuffed to sturdy chairs and two that were passed out on the floor. One of those was lying in a puddle of its own vomit. Or maybe it was blood, Quentin wasn’t sure. A glass tank held six Sklorno males — odds were they’d huffed too much concentrated nitrogen, then gone after the first female they saw. Quentin could only hope their targets had been properly dressed and covered head to toe.

“Maybe we can get this done quick,” Quentin said. “Maybe Gredok doesn’t have to know.”

“A player was arrested,” Choto said. “The only way Gredok would not know is if he was in punch-space. We may have to call Gredok, Quentin — considering the loss of Mai-An-Ihkole, if we do not get John back, there is no way we can stop the To Pirates. Shayat the Thick can substitute for John on a few plays a game, but he is not a starter.”

Quentin nodded. John was not only the captain of the defense, he was its anchor, its best player. If Shayat the Thick started at middle linebacker, Pirates’ QB Frank Zimmer would tear the Warrior apart.

Mai-An-Ihkole’s injury turned out to be far worse than anyone had expected. Mai-An was out for the season, meaning the Krakens had lost a starting defensive tackle. To lose a starting middle linebacker as well? The Krakens might as well not even make the trip to To.

They were so close … just one more game …

“We’ll get John back,” Quentin said. “Come on.”

Quentin walked to the main desk. A Quyth Warrior sat in a chair surrounded by holoscreens.

“Excuse me, Officer?”

The cop didn’t bother looking away from his screens. “What do you want, Human?”

“Uh …” Quentin leaned in and spoke quietly, hoping the other people in the lobby didn’t hear. “I’m here to get John Tweedy, Cliff Frost, Yassoud Murphy and Tim Crawford.”

The cop’s baseball-sized eye snapped up. “My mother-father,” he said, his cornea swirling with yellow. “You are Quentin Barnes.”

Quentin smiled. He wasn’t comfortable with his fame, but sometimes star power had its advantages.

“That’s me, Officer. I understand the boys got caught up in a little scuffle.”

“A little scuffle,” the cop echoed. “I do not think that is an accurate assessment of the situation, Elder Barnes.”

Quentin held his smile despite his annoyance — why did the Quyth insist on calling him Elder?

The cop turned to a holoscreen. He tapped floating icons, pulling up a street-camera recording. Quentin didn’t recognize the place, but it was the bottom two floors of a towering, hexagonal skyscraper: a typical Ionath City nightspot. The third story and up were the baked-red ceramic commonly found in most city buildings. The first and second floors, however, were mostly glass and garishly colored tile work. Jittering holo-art flashed in time to the music coming from inside.

On the recording, sentients walked up and down the nighttime street. It looked busy and mostly peaceful.

“I don’t see anything,” Quentin said. “Was John too loud or something?”

“Just watch,” the cop said.

Three seconds later, the club’s glass front shattered outward as a Ki body flew through it to land on the sidewalk beyond. The long, multi-legged victim rolled weakly on the ground, black blood spurting from a dozen cuts. Another body leapt out of the window: this one was Human, big, muscular and very angry.

John Tweedy.

The holo-John threw his head back and howled at the night. The club’s doors slammed open. Frost and Crawford came out, dragging Quyth Warriors that were so big they had to be bouncers. More sentients rushed out of the club as the brawl spilled onto the street, making the sidewalk crowd run for cover, making grav-cabs swerve out of the way. A hulking HeavyKi scuttled out of the broken window. He was about to blindside John, but Yassoud came out the door and landed a head-snapping hit on the twelve-foot-long monster.

The cop touched the pause icon. Quentin stared at his four teammates, now frozen in their mini-riot.

“As you can see, Elder Barnes, there are injuries,” the cop said. “There is also extensive property damage.”

Quentin’s heart sank. He had to do something to get those guys out of jail. “What about GFL immunity? You can’t hold my teammates. That’s the law, right?”

The cop’s pedipalps twitched. “Elder Barnes, immunity means players cannot be extradited to face charges, or seized while on a league-authorized ship, or arrested while attending a league-related function, such as a game or practice. When players are caught in the act of assaulting sentients and causing property damage, however, they can be arrested. Immunity also is on hold until we know the status of one of the sentients involved in the altercation. This sentient is in the hospital. If he should die, then this becomes a murder investigation.”

“Murder?”

“Correct. Your teammates aren’t going anywhere.”

“But, but, we have to leave for To in a few hours, we have the Pirates, and it was just a bar fight, and—”

“Where are my clients?”

The new voice cut off Quentin’s words. He turned to see a rare sight walking through the precinct door — a Whitokian. On either side of her walked well-dressed toughs; the Human Bobby Brobst and that HeavyKi with two eye patches. They belonged to Gredok, which meant the Whitokian did as well.

Outside of the city’s water tanks and liquid tubes, you didn’t see much of that race. And as far as Quentin was concerned, that was a good thing.

The cone-shaped Whitokians were perhaps the most disgusting-looking sentients in the galaxy. The first thing you noticed about them was the slime; a coating of mucus covered her orange skin. He knew it was a “her” because males were smaller and had greenish skin.


Her pointy end anchored two pairs of spindly legs, a pair on the right and a pair on the left. Membranes ran between the legs of each pair. In the water, Whitokians spread the legs wide, letting the membrane between work as a powerful flipper that could drive them forward or backward at high speed. On land, each pair of legs pressed together and operated as a single limb, making the loose membrane between sag in fleshy, slime-covered wrinkles.

At the wider end of the cone were their heads — he hated to look at their heads. The mouth was a pucker of puffy flesh with three long, spidery arms on either side. Just like on the legs, sagging membrane ran between the arms — in the water, the limbs could aid in swimming or be used like a Human used his, to grab things and move them, to wield tools or weapons. Above the mouth, the Whitokian’s two oblong eyes seemed disturbingly identical to those of a Human or HeavyG.

No one had ever really come up with a good nickname for the Whitokians. Some people called them “lobster-squids,” but that didn’t really match up. “Frog-crabs” and “slime-shrimp” were others, but none of the standard Earth-based animal comparisons did them justice.

This Whitokian wore a black bodysuit that covered everything save for her head, arms and legs. Her legs left a trail of tiny slime-drops in her wake. She walked up to the main desk, waving a holocube like it was a grenade and speaking in a voice that was simultaneously low-pitched and screechy.

“I have a writ of representation for Cliff Frost, John Tweedy, Yassoud Murphy and Timothy Crawford,” she said. “They are to be released immediately!”

Quentin didn’t know what to do, so he stepped aside. The cop’s eye flooded green, and his pedipalps stopped twitching — the situation apparently wasn’t funny anymore.

“Those four sentients are in custody,” the Warrior said. “No one can see them except for legal representation.”

The Whitokian tossed the cube down on the countertop, where it spun on one corner before rattling to a stop.

“I’m Beebee Cheebee, their lawyer,” she said. “You get my clients out here, now, or I’ll have Yolon the Self-Sacrificing down here so fast it will make your middle arms molt.”

The Warrior shifted uncomfortably. Quentin couldn’t blame him — Yolon was the mayor of Ionath City. Did this lawyer really know the mayor?

“Now means now,” the Whitokian said. “What’s the matter, Officer, don’t you like your badge? Do you want to lose it?”

Beebee Cheebee slapped her membranous hands on the countertop, splattering more slime-drops across the lobby. Quentin felt a glob hit his left cheek. He quickly wiped it off, then took a second step back as the lawyer continued her rant.

“If you’re not qualified, then get Potor the Accommodating out here,” she said. “I’m sure he won’t appreciate your blatant racism against Humans who were clearly defending themselves against violent aggression.”

The Warrior reached a hand to a holopanel and furiously tapped icons. Seconds later, a Quyth Leader in a police uniform walked out of a door and into the lobby.

The Leader spoke a sentence of Quyth language to the Warrior. The Warrior answered in kind. Quentin didn’t understand what they’d said, but the Leader then addressed the Whitokian lawyer.

“I am Walan the Abusive,” he said.

“The Abusive?” said the Whitokian. “That’s an unfortunate name for a police officer.”

“It is from my past. Because I would certainly never be abusive to sentients in my custody. Or to lawyers that make trouble.”

The Whitokian’s tone grew more animated, more angry. “Where is Potor the Accommodating? He runs this precinct, and I usually deal with him.”

The Quyth Leader’s eye swirled with threads of black. “Potor has been removed for corruption. It seems he was taking bribes from certain gangland figures.”

Short, thin spines slid out of the Whitokian’s skin. As soon as they appeared, they slid back inside, hidden from view. Quentin wondered if that was some kind of uncontrollable reaction, like an angry Human unconsciously scowling and making fists.

“Well, it doesn’t matter who is in charge,” the Whitokian said. “I have a writ of bail payment from Judge Kalag the Fair.”

Walan slowly smoothed out his uniform. He seemed to revel in taking his time, simply because it annoyed the lawyer.

“Judge Kalag,” Walan said. “What a surprise that you have a writ from him.” The Leader stared for a moment, his single eye narrowing. “Since you have paid the bail, your clients are free to go. All except Tim Crawford.”

Beebee Cheebee’s body seemed to puff up, making her spines stick all the way out. “What? What right do you have to hold Crawford?”

“He hit a cop,” the Leader said. “I don’t care who you know — Crawford’s going to be in jail for at least the rest of the season.”

Beebee’s body depuffed, the spines again sliding from sight. “We’ll see about that, Walan. Just bring the rest of them to me immediately.”

“I would suggest that you send someone in to calm down John Tweedy,” Walan said. “He was the one who started the brawl. If he does anything else tonight, I will see to it personally that he is held without bail for at least a month. His season will be over. You may send in one sentient to speak with Tweedy before I release him.”

The Whitokian turned to Quentin. “Barnes, I am told that you are friends with John?”

Quentin nodded.

“Good,” the lawyer said. “Then get in there and inform him he is to be on his best behavior. Do not disappoint Gredok.”

Quentin would have liked nothing more than to disappoint Gredok at every turn, but now was not the time. One more win and the Krakens were in the playoffs. John would behave, Quentin would make sure of it.

The Quyth Warrior cop opened the door and gestured for Quentin to step inside. “This way, Elder Barnes. I’ll take you to John Tweedy’s cell.”

? ? ?



THE JAIL SMELLED of cleaning agents and body odor. Somewhere in there was a Ki that hadn’t bathed in days — an unmistakable, foul odor that reminded Quentin of rotting fish and burning wood.

Quentin followed the Quyth Warrior cop down a long hall lined with clear crysteel doors. Each door led into a small, white cell. Most of the cells were full, occupied predominantly by Quyth Warriors and Humans. Quentin saw Yassoud in one cell, sleeping on a bunk.

They stopped at a door. Quentin looked in, saw John sitting on the edge of a bunk, head hung low and eyes closed. His clothes were torn and dirty. He had blood crusted above his right eye and under his nose. He hadn’t even bothered to wipe himself off.

The cop opened the door part way. “Elder Barnes, as a fan I will tell you that Walan does not exaggerate. If Mister Tweedy does anything bad, he will stay in this cell until the season is over. He will also probably find out why Walan has that last name.”

Quentin nodded. “Thank you for telling me that.”

“You are welcome,” the cop said. He reached into his pocket and handed over a message cube. “If you do not mind, I would love the autograph of Yitzhak Goldman. Could you get that for me?”

“Sure,” Quentin said. He took the cube and put it in his pocket.

The cop opened the door the rest of the way, letting Quentin walk inside.

“John, you okay?”


John lifted his head and opened the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “You? How shucking perfect.” He dropped his head back down.

“Gredok’s lawyer got you guys out. You want to tell me what the hell you think you were doing pulling a stunt like this? If we beat the Pirates next week, we could be in the playoffs!”

John slowly stood. His good eye burned with anger … anger clearly focused on Quentin.

“More life advice from the Chosen One,” John said. “I guess I better pay close attention, right?”

Chosen One? Was John still drunk? “Yeah, you should pay attention. They sent me back here to make sure you don’t pull anything on the way out. Why did you get in a bar fight, anyway? Is this about Becca?”

John smiled an evil smile. “I got in a bar fight because I wanted to hit someone. Duh. And everyone thinks you’re so damn smart. Amazing. Yeah, Q, it’s about Becca. Becca and you”

Quentin felt a flush of embarrassment, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong.

“John, what do you mean by Becca and me?”

The linebacker rubbed his hands together. He slowly cracked his knuckles, one by one, ignoring the cuts that still oozed clear fluid.

“You and Becca,” John said again. “I told you why she wouldn’t marry me, remember?”

Quentin’s throat felt dry. “Because she loves someone else more.”

John nodded. “Yeah. She loves someone else more — you.”

Quentin took a step back. He shook his head. That wasn’t possible. “John, you must have heard her wrong or something. There’s nothing going on between me and Becca.”

John stopped cracking his knuckles. He looked away. “She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. Once she called off the engagement, I started watching her. I see the way she looks at you. It’s the way she should be looking at me”

Quentin couldn’t stop shaking his head. “That’s impossible. She basically hates me. We work together on the field just fine, but off it, we don’t even get along.”

John closed his eyes, again went to work on his hands. The snap-crack of his knuckles sounded too loud in the tiny room.

“Q, know how I killed that Hittoni running back?”

“It was an accident,” Quentin said quickly, automatically. “It wasn’t your fault, John. That’s the life we’ve all chosen — every player knows the risks.”

John locked eyes again. “I wasn’t asking for sympathy and understanding. I asked if you knew how I killed him. Like … what was going through my head to make me hit someone that hard. Go ahead, Q … ask me how I killed him.”

Somehow, Quentin already knew the answer. He didn’t want to hear it confirmed, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “How … how did you kill him?”

John smiled. “I just pretended he was you.”

Quentin knew the feeling of heartbreak. He’d felt it when his fake father had been revealed, when he’d had gone from finally having a family to realizing he was again all alone in the universe, that he’d always been alone. That had been the worst sensation he’d ever experienced — and yet somehow, this was far, far worse. With the fake father, Quentin had fallen for a con-job. John’s friendship had real, it had been pure.

Now, it was gone.

But I didn’t do anything … I never said anything to her …

“Your face,” John said. “Every play that’s all I see — your stupid, pretty-boy face. I don’t care who we’re playing, I see you, I want to hurt you. Now I’m hitting harder than I ever have, Q, so thanks for that.”

Quentin had to do something, to say something. How could this be happening? “John, I … there’s nothing between me and Becca. I swear.”

John hung his head and stared at the ground. “You don’t even see it,” he said. “That makes it even worse. You’re all good-looking and stuff. You’re a quarterback. You date movie stars. You’re on the cover of Galaxy Sports Magazine. You stop wars, for shuck’s sake.”

Quentin’s chest ached. His friend’s pain felt like a hook dragging through his heart.

John looked up. His anger was gone. Instead, his face screamed of anguish, of loss.

“You could have had anybody,” he said. “You could have any girl in the galaxy. So why did you pick my girl?”

“I didn’t, John! I would never do something like that to you!”

“You didn’t have to do anything, Quentin. You were just you.”

John was dying inside, and even though Quentin hadn’t done anything wrong, he was responsible for that pain. Quentin had never really had friends until he’d come to Ionath. He’d certainly never had a best friend until he’d met John. The way John looked at him now … it made Quentin feel like the lowest sentient in the galaxy.

But even with that awful feeling, even with the knowledge that he’d probably lost John’s friendship forever, Quentin still had a job to do. The Krakens franchise counted on Quentin to lead the team to a GFL title. He had a responsibility to the organization. To his teammates. To his coach. Yes, even to Gredok. Without John Tweedy, Ionath could not win a title.

“John, I … I know this has to hurt. I am so sorry about that, but we have to put it aside for now, we have to get our minds on —”

John snarled. SHUT UP BEFORE I CAN’T STOP MYSELF flashed across his face.

Quentin took a step back. In his rookie season, he’d watched John kill a Quyth Warrior with his bare hands. That was the John Tweedy Quentin saw now.

John shook his head, hard — the words faded away, but the snarl did not. “You know something, Barnes? You didn’t invent the game of football. I was a Kraken years before you were, and somehow I made it to the pros with your leadership to show me the way.”

“No, John, I wasn’t saying that at all, I —”

“Shut up! I know what we need to do. I got dumped by a girl — you think I suddenly forgot about the shucking playoffs? About the title? Well, I haven’t. Could you at least do me the favor of not acting like I don’t know what matters unless you tell me?”

John’s anger poured off of him in waves. And John was right — he’d been an upper-tier team captain while Quentin was back in the PNFL, winning meaningless games in a backwater league.

“Okay, John,” Quentin said. “Okay.”

John’s lip curled up a little higher, then lowered. The fight went out of his eyes; the hurt returned. He walked out of the cell.

Quentin waited a few seconds to give John his space, then followed him out. In the lobby, the Whitokian lawyer, Bobby Brobst, the HeavyKi, Cliff Frost and Yassoud were waiting. No Tim Crawford — between injuries and stupidity, the Krakens had lost both a starting defensive tackle and a backup at that same position.

But at least they hadn’t lost their defensive captain.

Not yet.

Quentin and his teammates left the station. They had to get ready for the trip to To. They had to get ready to fight on the blood-red field of Pirates Stadium.

They had to win.



GFL WEEK TWELVE ROUNDUP

Courtesy of Galaxy Sports Network



Twelve weeks are in the books and one week remains, a week that will determine who fills the four remaining playoff berths.

Yall’s magical season continued as the Criminals (11-0) pounded Hittoni 42-14, officially relegating the three-time league champion Hullwalkers (2-9) to Tier Two.


“We’ll start over,” said Hittoni owner Lily Hanisek. “We’ll figure out how the wheels came off, fix the problems, and we’ll be back.”

To (9-2) locked up the second seed in the Planet Division with a 24-12 victory over D’Kow (3-8). Being the second seed means that the Pirates will host their first-round playoff game.

Wabash (7-4) had a chance to lock up a playoff spot but fell 42-21 to surging Ionath (6-5). Krakens quarterback Quentin Barnes tossed for 312 yards, three touchdowns and one interception while adding another TD on the ground. Running back Ju Tweedy suffered a broken leg, but backup Yassoud Murphy ran for 100 yards. Murphy had two touchdowns, one receiving and one rushing.

“The team needed me to step up, so oh, yep, I did,” Murphy said. “I ain’t here for the free cupcakes, if you know what I mean.”

Tweedy will be back for Ionath’s Week Thirteen tilt against To.

Three teams have a shot at the last two Planet Division playoff spots: Wabash, OS1 and Ionath. Wabash is automatically in if it defeats Sheb (6-5). The ‘Pack can lose to the Stalkers and still make the playoffs if either OS1 or Ionath lose. The Orbiting Death is also in if it wins — a likely prospect considering they face the already relegated Hullwalkers. Ionath must beat To and see either Wabash or OS1 lose.

In the Solar Division, Vik (9-2) took control of first place with a 23-12 win over Bartel (9-2). Vik is guaranteed a home playoff game in round one and will have home-field advantage throughout if they win their final game against Isis (4-7). Bartel is also guaranteed at least one home playoff game.

For the final two spots in the Solar Division, five teams remain eligible. Jupiter (7-4) won its third straight game, 35-12 over the Jang Atom Smashers (4-7). Jacks quarterback Don Pine posted his best outing of the season, throwing for three touchdowns and 288 yards.

Jupiter is tied with Texas (7-4) for third place. Both teams are in if they win their Week Thirteen games: the Jacks face Bord (6-5), while the Earthlings square off against Bartel.

Bord can grab a playoff spot with a win over Jupiter and a Neptune loss. Due to head-to-head tiebreakers, the Sheb Stalkers are in if they win and if both Bord and Texas lose. Neptune needs to win and also see losses by Sheb and Jupiter.

The Solar Division relegation comes down to the final game between New Rodina (1-10) and Shorah (1-10). The winner remains in Tier One for the 2686 season, while the loser is relegated to Tier Two.

Deaths

No deaths reported this week.

Offensive Player of the Week

Vik running back Doc Coleman, who carried the ball 41 times for 186 yards in the Vanguard’s 23-12 win over Bartel.

Defensive Player of the Week

To strong safety Ciudad Juarez, who had six solo tackles, a sack and knocked two receivers out of the game in the Pirates’ 24-12 win over D’Kow.