“We’ve got to go out there and establish ourselves right now,” Pine said. “No waiting. They won the toss. Defense, I want the ball back. Offense, I want to score on our first drive. Then I want to score on our second drive. Then I want to score on our third drive. No letting up.”
He raised his fist and the circle tightened in a convulsive surge. Hands, pedipalps, chitinous arms and raspers reached out to Pine, who stood in the center of it all like a battlefield hero. Quentin found, to his surprise, that he instinctively reached out his own hand as well — but he stopped himself only a few inches from the veteran quarterback, pretending that he couldn’t quite reach.
Every player let out a single, deep, guttural grunt that transcended language, then the circle broke apart, the players gathering in groups: kickoff team, defense, offense and second-stringers. Across the field, the Woo Wallcrawlers broke from their own huddle. They wore pinkish leg armor and white jerseys with letters and numbers in light-blue rimmed by purple. Each jersey had the word “‘Crawlers” stretched across the chest above their number. A stylized purple creature on the right shoulder of each jersey spread forth long tentacles: two down the chest, two down the back, and two down the right arm (or arms, in the case of the Ki).
Five graceful, boneless Harrah floated onto the field. Their soft wings undulated in wave-like patterns, carrying them smoothly forward. They wore black-and-white striped jerseys custom fitted to their flat bodies. Quentin suddenly understood why the Harrah made great refs — they could fly up to monitor the twenty-foot-high mid-air battles between Sklorno receivers and defensive backs. A grounded ref could never accurately judge interference.
Pine walked up next to Quentin. He saw the younger QB looking at the refs.
“Never seen flying refs before?”
Quentin shook his head. “No, but it’s a great idea.”
“Stupid zebes, they hate the Krakens. We always get crap calls.”
“What’s a zebe?”
“That’s what they call refs.”
“But what is it?”
“I think it’s short for Zebra.”
“What’s a Zebra?”
Pine shrugged as he put on his helmet. “Beats me. Some animal with black and white stripes, I guess. From Satirli 6, I think.”
The Krakens lined up for the kick-off. The crowd of 185,000 started beating their feet in place. Quentin looked at the stands behind him: the crowd was mostly Quyth, with Workers filling the higher rows and upper decks. Plenty of Humans, Quyth Warriors and Quyth Leaders filled the lower seats. He spotted the distinctive shape of many Sklorno females in the stands, most of whom wore replica Krakens jerseys with number “80,” Hawick’s number.
Special sections of the stands were packed with the bouncing, one-foot diameter fuzzy balls that he now knew were Sklorno males. These sections were enclosed in clear crystametal. The males bounced up and down inside — there had to be a thousand of them in each enclosure, moving so fast he could barely make out individuals. Quentin wondered why, when looking at a stadium packed with a half-dozen races, the Sklorno males were segregated.
Quentin nudged Yitzhak. “Why are the Sklorno males in that cage?”
“The bedbugs? Because they get so turned on watching the females that they will rush the field and try to mate with them.”
Quentin grimaced. “What? Really?”
“Oh sure. They’re horny little buggers. Watch out if you’re around any of our receivers or DBs in public, the little scumbags lose it and will just start humping them. That’s why the females wear full-body clothing in public, otherwise the bedbugs might impregnate them.”
The crowd’s foot-pounding picked up in intensity, and was joined by a low “oohhhhh” that quickly increased in pitch and volume. Quentin turned in time to see the kicker’s foot slam into the ball exactly at the moment the crowd’s “ohhh” turned into a sustained “ahhh!” of excitement. The ball sailed through the air as the Krakens kickoff team pounded down the field.
Quentin saw Yassoud rushing downfield, that murderous look on his face. Denver and Milford were out there as well, sprinting like living missiles, pulling ahead of their teammates. A line of Human and Quyth Warrior Wallcrawlers formed a wedge and drove upfield, followed by a Sklorno carrying the brown ball. Denver and Milford launched themselves high into the air, arching over the Wallcrawler wedge. Two pink-and-white clad Sklorno players shot through the air to meet them: one picked off Denver in mid-air and they fell in a heap. Milford twisted and her defender sailed past. She landed on her feet as Yassoud and the other Krakens smashed into the Wallcrawler wedge. Milford sprang forward — the Wallcrawler ball carrier tried to dodge, but Milford brought her down at the ‘Crawlers fifteen yard line.
The crowd roared so loudly that Quentin put his hands to his helmet’s ear-holes. He heard some kind of high-pitched screeching from the stands and looked back — the Sklorno males bounced maddeningly in their enclosures, hitting the crystametal walls so hard they had to be injuring themselves.
John Tweedy led the defense onto the field. I AM THE BRINGER OF DEATH scrolled across his face. The ‘Crawlers offense came out and huddled up, led by quarterback Kelley Moussay-Ed. Warburg walked up and stood next to Quentin.
“Kelley’s in for a long day,” Warburg said. “This run-and-shoot garbage doesn’t work against Michnik and Khomeni.”
Kelley snapped the ball and handed off to running back Copu Soggang, who found nothing at the line. He cut right, but Khomeni reached out his long arms and dragged the runner to the ground for no gain.
The ‘Crawlers next ran a short out-pass, good for three yards before Berea leveled the receiver. On third-and-seven, Kelley dropped back as four receivers snaked into the defensive backfield. Michnik drove into the ‘Crawler’s right tackle, then spun to the inside and broke free. Kelley felt the pressure and threw the ball away. The crowd roared in approval.
The defense ran off the field to congratulations and approving slaps from the offense and the second stringers. The ‘Crawlers punted. Richfield called for a fair catch, and the Krakens’ offense took over for the first time. Pine led the offense onto the field. Warburg waited a few seconds before leisurely trotting to join the huddle.
Quentin moved to stand next to Yassoud. “What’s it like out there?”
“It’s unbelievable,” Yassoud said, his grin once again firmly in place. “The crowd is unreal, there’s so much energy. You’ll see soon enough.”
Quentin shrugged. “Hopefully the old fart won’t last long.”
“You never know,” Yassoud said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Quentin’s hopes.
First-and-ten on the Krakens’ 45. Pine wasted no time exploiting the ‘Crawler’s slow secondary. He hit Hawick for a twelve-yard slant, then Kobayasho for a six-yard out, then a deep crossing pattern to Warburg. Warburg caught the ball in full stride and turned up-field, all 365 pounds of him moving at top speed. ‘Crawler defensive backs Seoul and Onoway closed in on him. Warburg turned to slam into Seoul head-to-head, knocking the 280-pound Sklorno defensive player backwards. Warburg stumbled from the contact, and Onoway brought him down for a 22-yard gain that gave the Krakens first-and-ten on the Wallcrawler fifteen. Warburg and Onoway got up, Seoul didn’t.
The game paused as a Harrah doctor flew onto the field, trailed by a floating cart. The Harrah looked exactly like Doc, except this one’s backpack was pink and light-blue instead of orange-and-black. The doctor looked at Seoul for a long minute, then pushed the cart over the Sklorno’s prone form. A hundred tiny wires shot out of the cart’s underside, wrapping around Seoul in a hundred different places. The cart rose about a foot, and Seoul’s body rose with it, still in the exact same position she’d been in on the ground. The doctor flew off the field, towards the tunnel to the locker room, the cart zipping along behind.