The Full Circle Six

by Edward T. Anthony

  “There is no other racecraft in the area. Um … OH … uhh, it looks like a shield mine was detonated. Shield report as follows: Shield one, zero percent, shield two, zero percent, and shield three, twenty four percent. And it looks like we have a recorded contact message from the number seven racecraft.” Jaws looked completely exhausted while speaking, but managed to get up and help Juhaen and Croxon clean up.

  “Play the contact message.” Drake was still subdued.

  “This is Ced Oblize, navigator of the number seven racecraft. AHHAHAHAHAHA!” This was an infuriating cackle that Drake hated hearing, especially at this time. “I confiscated and used one of your own partner’s shield mines against you, with the help of my trusty holocraft …

  Drake had worked his way over to communications and disconnected the transmission with authority. “I am going to my quarters to try and locate the closest planet to stop.”

  Drake was showing weakness and felt he had to dismiss himself before he exploded in front of them. How could he have been so ignorant? Following a holographic racecraft, and for his own personal vindication. If he wouldn’t have been so quick to pull the trigger, if he hadn’t been in that awful mood, if he wouldn’t have converted shield power, maybe it could have been avoided. Now, they would have to make an unplanned planetary stop, on a planet that is populated with who could know what. As far as he could tell, the nearest planet was not one he had ever been to, or heard of. It went by the name of Lorte, and it looked unpleasantly under populated. The worst part about the whole experience is that he not only did not move up a position, as expected, but also set his entire team back. They could possibly lose positions as a result. This idea made Drake shiver with a disappointment he found he could not relate with anything recently. Why didn’t he, Drake Judge, have these weapons? He had no freezing capsules or shield mines. He had no holocrafts to deceive with, although he was sure not to be fooled by it again. It would be a long time before Drake would let himself live this down. He had just pretty much said the crew was in no immediate harm from his direction, earlier. Then, on his order, he comes twenty five percent away from destroying his own racecraft, and its entire filling. Drake quickly realized he was wasting valuable time, and returned at once to his navigational command booth, where he would be able to take his mind off the blunder, via barking more orders.

  “We are going to be making a planetary stop at the nearest convenience, which happens to be place called Lorte. What information do you have on that planet, Jaws?”

  “Let me check … Hold on … I’m not finding anything but low oxygen, low population. No previous racecraft has had a planetary stop there, by the looks of it … I’ll keep looking for something else on it.” Jaws began doing research in his communicational booth, glad of work to do.

  “No matter. Kraus, put engines to three levels below max, while I prepare a course for Lorte. When we land, I’m going to take Bruvold, Kraus, Jaws, and the M.O. out to meet the locals. The rest of you should stay here and clean up what you can. Do whatever repairs you are able to. Sammy, I will put you in charge. The moment I leave, I expect you to get these people making the appropriate repairs. Make sure our rocket booster is filled up for the next launch, and you will also need someone to do a planet scan, in order to drop us off in the most populated area.” Drake put a forceful hand on Sammy’s shoulder and directed him toward the navigational command chair, then motioned for the four others, included in the stop party, to follow him to the equipment chamber.

  They would need to arm themselves with the right gear for breathing, and protection. This was based on the lack of oxygen at Lorte, and the unknown inhabitants of the seemingly wretched place. There was one thing for sure they, nor anyone else for that matter, would ever stop here under normal circumstances. Drake dressed the quickest, and noticed through his holochart gazers that they were nearing their destination. There was an uncomfortable silence among the five, as they waited for the time to come that would place them in a highly unanticipated world.

  The five could feel the vibrations of the racecraft, when it shook, as it always did, during the landing process. Drake was thinking about getting this over with, with quick, efficient, teamwork, and hopefully the locals could muster a great deal of help. It would be beneficial to Drake getting his racecraft back in the sky without delay.

  The first thing they noticed, while exiting the support racecraft, was the widespread vegetation and sweltering heat. There were yellowish purple, yellowish red, and yellowish blue pods, with stems covering large portions of the ground, all of varying sizes and shapes. The non-yellow color of the pods was located primarily in the stem. The other vegetation was spread between the pods, and was tall and bushy. These plants acted as cover, blocking any sort of visibility, beyond the current area any of the crew happened to be occupying.

  The group proceeded slowly, with Drake in the lead toward the smoke stacks they saw in the sky. This was not a promising sign. Smoke stacks often times meant primitive life forms, but Drake was still hopeful. They had gone maybe fifty meters when, suddenly, they were boorishly halted by a band of attacking natives. Drake was the first to engage, he grabbed one and kneed it in its abdomen, then was blindsided by another, wielding a club. Priscilla took cover under nearby brush while Bruvold and Kraus each selected an opponent. Drake was still dueling with his combatants. He had managed to disarm the club, and was using it against his foes, as two more enemies joined the fray. The rapid fire laser weapons, they were yielding, would not be worth using in this vegetation at anything but close range, and even that was too risky, on account of not knowing if some of the succession fire would harm a mate. Jaws had activated some sort of chameleon disguise and was cowering in the vegetation behind Priscilla, without anyone being the wiser. Bruvold had just unleashed a devastating combination on his opponent, finishing with a powerful double axe handled smash that left the creature incapacitated. Drake appeared to have clubbed a couple into submission as well, but one of them on the ground grabbed a pod and threw it directly at Drake’s feet. The pod exploded, leaving a large puff of yellow spores spreading all around Drake’s intimidating physique. After a few moments, he collapsed with a low grunt, and fought no more. Priscilla was the only one who noticed, and immediately took action. She tried to get Bruvold’s attention to help her carry Drake back to the racecraft, but it was Jaws who reappeared conveniently to help. He was looking for any excuse to leave the battle at hand. They managed to get away without any of the beasts seeing them, by taking somewhat of an alternate course. This took more time, but as it was, they needed to be as covert as they could manage.

  Kraus did, however, notice some of the party leaving out of the corner of his eye, and felt it was probably safe to start using real firepower. He communicated to Bruvold to yell out his position, so he would not fire in his direction, and pulled his rapid-fire laser unit out of his holster. The sound of rapid laser fire resonated throughout the sticky air, as three of the aliens were hit, and instantly killed, while the remaining attackers fled. Bruvold and Kraus grinned at each other, and made their way hastily back to the transport racecraft, with well done written all over their faces.

  By the time Kraus and Bruvold had finished changing and made their way back to the navigation center, Jaws was just finishing recounting what he saw on the surface to the others.

  Croxon was already in the medical quarters, preparing for the arrival of the wounded, when Pricilla opened the door, trying to drag the heavy captain with what little help the injury transport cart could give. Iriarte was holding a large syringe filled with a glowing blue liquid. Having been in many events with Drake before, Croxy knew what Drake, or anyone else, would need had they gotten themselves in any trouble. It seemed as though Pricilla had different ideas for treating the captain.

  “What, may I ask, are you doing in my quarters?” Priscilla exclaimed, while moving Drake onto an operation module.

  “I was sent here by Sammy earlier, to clean up the medical
quarters, and prepare for any wounded, and I am the medical assistant, after all, these are my quarters too.” Croxon answered diligently. “What happened to him?” It then asked looking down at Drake.

  “I will be able to take care of the wounded, please wait outside while I attend to the commander, assistant.” Priscilla did not even look as Croxon left the quarters. She began to wash Drake clean of the spore dust, believing this to be the source of his infliction. This process, she deemed effective when Drake started coming around. She noticed a fever and turned around to retrieve the proper compound, when Drake let out a terrifying, nightmarish scream.

  “AHHHHH … AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH … NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Drake started jerking violently, and when Priscilla got near to calm him down he grabbed her by the dress and uttered one word before going into a rage again. “Crrroxxy.” Priscilla began to try and assure the captain that she could take care of him. “NOOOOOOOOO, bring me Croxon! Now!” With Drake jerking even more violently, Priscilla had no choice but to summon Croxy.

  The assistant came back through the door to the medical quarters, again holding the large syringe. It moved toward the M.O. and the injured with slow, determined, calculation.

  “Here now, cap.” Croxon soothed. “This will make it all better.” When the needle slid into Drake‘s shoulder, Croxy pressed the plunger with his thumb. A small, high pitched, hissing sound ensued.

  “What in the …” Pricilla was looking at her new assistant and seemed bewildered.

  “Shhhhh” Croxy interrupted, though it was tough to tell whom it was trying to silence, as it was looking toward nothing in particular. The contempt and shock on Pricilla’s face went unnoticed as well. Once the injection was complete, Croxon then walked to a corner of the quarters that held its ‘medic case’. Here, it picked up the case, inspected its contents, and calmly carried it back to place on the floor beside Drake. One by one, with a slightly demented look in its eyes, the former racecraft medical operator selected the needles and injected Drake seemingly at random, injecting the last two at the same time. All of the other syringes also made that small hissing noise.

  “What in the name of medicine do you think you are doing? Are you insane?” Priscilla was frightened to the point of tears. Frantically, she began to scramble across to Croxon and Drake.

  Croxy finished re-latching its medic case and locked a serene gaze onto Pricilla’s panic stricken face, while replying, “I do nothing in the name of medicine. The captain will be fine now.”

  Just as Croxy finished speaking, Drake raised an arm and clapped his long time healer on the back.

  “Just what I needed.” He managed to croak. “I should have taken you, old Croxy … I should have taken you.”

  At this, Pricilla became indignant and, with a disgusted look at both of her teammates, she turned to storm away. Before getting through the door, she glanced to her left and happened to notice a shelf that belonged to Croxon. With a downward swing of her fist, she brought the shelf and all of the items on it, cascading down to crash to the floor.

  Drake looked at Croxy and said, “I know you wouldn’t have hid in the bushes, old Croxy. Wouldn’t have given me a bath, either.” After speaking, Drake rolled to his side and began to sleep, for the first time since before the start of the race.

  Drake woke up no more than two days after falling asleep. When he awoke, he found that most of the repairs and refueling had been taken care of while Sammy was in charge. They used equipment from the spare parts chamber, and were able to refuel all boosters from the fuel vault, using hoses. They had only a few hours until Sammy himself completed the final repairs on the shields, at which time they would be able to launch back into the race. Drake wished badly that the natives had been friendlier. It is so much easier to repair and refuel with a lot of extra hands to do the work. As it was, only nine members were able to fix it by themselves in under three days time.

  Drake went to his personal quarters as he was mulling things over in his head. Retrieving his usual attire, he was anxious to get back to the navigation quarters, and his seat, to resume his command of the race. It was time to do something about his lowly position.

  Within the last hour, before launch, Drake felt his stomach grumble. He took the familiar route to the consuming quarters, and ordered his usual coffee and edibles. Discovering he was immensely famished, he dispensed out, and ate five more helpings, before returning to the navigational chair. The launch deliberated smoothly and, after no more than ten minutes back in space, Drake decided to formulate his next strategy into reality.

  “Alright … Freddie, I want you to stop all thrusters.” Freddie looked through Drake as though he was transparent, after the order was stated. This was the last command he expected to hear from Drake.

  Freddie obeyed, but he was confused. “I … uh … ok, sir.”

  “Now Sammy… I will need you to transfer shield power again.” Most of the crew was fixed in the direction of Drake now. “Only this time, you’re going to transfer all of shield two to boosters at the same time, instead of gradually … Freddie,… at the exact moment Sammy transfers power, … You’ll need to put engines to maximum capacity … This will create a super speed burst, resulting in a gain of over a week … If we do it properly, of course.” Drake rotated his head slowly while speaking to gauge his crew’s reaction. “We will have to be on the same page … I believe that won’t be a problem.” Drake finished excitedly.

  Drake had not performed this procedure in over a decade. The strategy has high rewards, but it has equally proportional risks. Once in hyper speed, it is difficult and demanding to navigate. Manual navigation must be utilized, and as a result you could end up completely off course, gaining little or no time at the cost of a shield, or smash into an obstruction killing everyone onboard. This was going to take every ounce of Drake’s concentration and tactical maneuvering skills. The outer shield will take more damage at this velocity than normal flight speeds. Drake had already concluded that the positive outweighed the negative in this particular situation. He was also notorious for taking calculated risks.

  “I want everybody strapped in before we propel.” Drake didn’t want one of the other members to be jolted around to the navigational controls. One of them could conceivably bump into Drake, or the controls, creating a disastrous catastrophe.

  “I … uh… guess I’m ready when you are Sammy boy,” Freddie squeaked nervously.

  “Ok … we’ll go on three.” Sammy held up three fingers and they both began counting down in unison.

  “Three … Two … One!” They coordinated perfectly and instantly an immeasurable force propelled the racecraft.

  The sound was like that of a large, hungry machine, bulldozing trees, cracking and snapping its path. Drake could feel the navigation controls rattling his every bone, as he tore through the universe with blazing acceleration. Nothing could be heard but the deafening vibrations, echoing thunderously, about the racecraft. To Drake, the stars and planets in his holochart gazers looked like rapid fire lasers, shooting all around him. He must avoid them at all cost, even if it meant pulling off course. If he hit one, that would be the end of everything, of the race and all of their lives.

  The strain was becoming unbelievably unbearable, still Drake was able to steer the racecraft with uncanny ability. Finally, he noticed the rapid-fire lights starting to decelerate in his gazers, which meant they were slowing, and they were now at the end of a seemingly successful tactic. The crackling slowly subsided, leaving several of the team hard of hearing.

  When they calmed back down to conventional engines, Drake flipped the controls off of manual and let out an enormous sigh of relief. They had made it, and the racecraft was as close to the proper course as Drake could have ever hoped for. He could only guess how many positions he might have moved up. Drake was beginning to calculate this in his head, when the communications expert distracted him.

  Jaws turned to face Drake, with his nostril flaring, and said, “We have a racecra
ft approaching from behind. It appears to be just out of range!” He was speaking unnecessarily loud, in order to hear himself.

  “There’s no need to yell, Jaws,” Sammy assured him.

  Drake knew his engines had probably lost a step after his excursion into hyper speed, but he didn’t know what shape the other racecraft was in. This notion, coupled with the fact that he only had two operational shields, made Drake’s decision easy. He would simply have to try and stay out in front and out of range for as long as possible. There was always a chance that the other racecraft would make a planetary stop soon, if it hadn’t already, that is.

  Drake flipped his controls back to manual, because he would need to use evasive maneuvering, if the racecraft that was following fired on them, and said, “Full speed ahead … we’re going to see if we can out run it.” If Drake couldn’t succeed in outrunning the racecraft, he was prepared to do everything in his power not to give up a position. That would mean another fight, if necessary. “Everybody get into battle positions and stand by … We will fight as a last resort to secure this position.” He pointed to Bruvold, Kraus, and Croxon, then turned to Jaws and asked, “Are we pulling away?”

  “We do not appear to be gaining distance … if anything they’re closing the gap … although it’s tough to tell right now,” Jaws replied, with his big nose glued to the scanner screen.

  “Maintain max engines … maybe we can outlast those guys.” Drake was wary of another confrontation, because if the racecraft got damaged too much, they would have to make an unplanned planetary stop once again. If he was forced to stop, he was determined to travel as far forward as his racecraft would allow, avoiding the addition of lost time.

  “They are attempting mental contact … sir, it’s the number seven racecraft,” Jaws announced, bitterly.

  “Deny,” Drake whispered audibly. The racecraft belonged to Ced, the younger Oblize brother.