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PRE-SEASON: WEEK ONE

THEY CAME HOME AT NIGHT. They came home champions.

Quentin stayed in his room aboard theTouchback. He was too nervous about the return trip— wouldn’t it be ironic to fight through the war that was his rookie season, win the Tier Two tournament and reach Tier One, then fly back from Earth only to have the team bus crash on the way home? Since he started every intergalactic trip assuming he was going to crash anyway, the concept of such a cruel fate made for a tense flight.

He waited. Waited for the punch-out, for theTouchback to slip into normal space.

The ship started to vibrate, shake a little.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, just relax.

He repeated the familiar mantra in his head, but it didn’t help. This was it, he’d die on this stupid ship before he played a single down of Tier One, before he lived his dream.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, just relax.

He kept his eyes shut. Best not to see it happen. Maybe this time he wouldn’t hurl.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fi—

The reality wave started cascading over the ship— just because he couldn’tsee it didn’t mean he couldn’tfeel it. Quentin’s eyes squeezed even tighter, so hard that his upper lip curled. His stomach churned; an oily, queasy feeling that threatened to coax the dinner out of his belly.

The feeling ofsplitting, ofspreading, of being in several places at once. It pulled at his mind, told the part repeating“it’s fine” that it was completely full of crap, because any sane sentient knew that things were most certainlynot fine.

And then it was over.

Quentin Barnes opened just his left eye, just a little, to see if anything wasshimmering, waswaving. Everything looked solid. He let his breath out in a long rush, then sprinted for the bathroom as his stomach rebelled.

• • •

QUENTIN HAD JUST FINISHED brushing his teeth free of the taste of vomit when the computer voice chimed through his room.

[FIRST SHUTTLE PASSENGERS TO THE LANDING BAY]

He spit, then s