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one ever was, about anything — but Quentin was still pretty fired up. He’d seen holocasts of Dinolition’s insanity, but word was you had to see a match in person to really appreciate the carnage.
    If it hadn’t been for an invitation from the Dinolition Commissioner and the commissioner’s promises of high security, Quentin would have never thought to attend this match. He didn’t travel much. When he did, it certainly wasn’t out in the open like this, as a celebrity.
    The people who had bombed the Ionath Krakens’ victory parade eight months earlier could still be out there. Gredok had “taken care of” the cell directly responsible for that lethal attack, but no one knew if there was a bigger organization behind it, possibly plotting another attempt on Quentin’s life. If, indeed, Quentin had been the actual target. Such threats reduced the desire to travel, to go anywhere that involved a crowd.
    But the Dinolition invite had come from the top. Even Gredok the Splithead, owner of the Krakens franchise, had looked into the trip and declared it safe. Relatively, anyway — their team bus, the Touchback , was the only truly safe place for Quentin and his fellow Krakens.
    Quentin would have had the trip checked out by his private detective, Frederico Esteban Giuseppe Gonzaga, but Fred hadn’t been heard from since halfway through the Tier One season some seven weeks ago. Frederico was supposedly off searching for Quentin’s family. Quentin didn’t know if the hunt was successful, didn’t have any information at all, really, save for Fred’s pay that came out of Quentin’s bank account every week.
    When the Dinolition invitation had come in, Quentin couldn’t think of a better person to take along than his teammate and friend, the deadly John Tweedy, Ionath’s starting middle linebacker. John loved all sports, really, but seemed extra-special-crazy for Dinolition. Quentin had planned on inviting Coach Hokor, since they were all on Wilson 6 for the same scouting trip, but the second John learned there was a total of four tickets, he asked if he could bring Rebecca.
    Becca “The Wrecka” Montagne, the Krakens starting fullback and girlfriend of John Tweedy. Becca was an excellent blocker, smart and she caught everything thrown her way. She had taken over the starting slot from veteran Paul Pierson near the end of the Tier One season. Off of the playing field, however, Quentin couldn’t stand the HeavyG woman. She didn’t get football, didn’t get that it was a violent game and that sentients got hurt, sentients died. The look on John’s face, however — so excited, so eager — had made Quentin say sure, bring her along .
    That, of course, left Quentin needing a date of his own. A check of touring schedules resulted in a wonderful coincidence — Trench Warfare was playing five shows on Wilson 6. A call to Somalia’s management resulted in an instant date.
    Quentin reached his open seat. Seats in most stadiums barely accommodated his 7-foot-tall, 380-pound body, but this one was quite comfortable. The League of Planets had more HeavyG citizens than any other government. Laws prohibiting racism ensured that the massive Human variants weren’t discriminated against with Human-sized facilities.
    Somalia sat in the seat on his right. Graceful and athletic, she curled her long legs up onto the seat and slid her sinewy arms around Quentin’s right bicep. Quentin was aware of sentients taking pictures, shooting holos — that had happened on their first date, a dinner in Ionath City. The paparazzi had come out of the woodwork. Quentin had no idea how the camera crews found out so quickly, but that was their business and they were probably very good at it. The experience had made dinner quite uncomfortable — he didn’t like the attention. He was already nervous enough dating a superstar. Dozens of cameras stalking his every move made it even worse. Pictures and holos of the couple hit hundreds of