The Full Circle Six

by Edward T. Anthony

  The ship dipped low suddenly, as an asteroid nearly half the size of the craft itself crashed into the front. Drake pulled out of the dive and immediately turned a barrel roll to avoid a series of potentially deadly meteors. He then took initiative and pulled the racecraft up in a spectacular weaving ascent, only to dive again with even more extravagant maneuvering. After a quick left fake, ninety-degree right turn, he ducked the nose low, scarcely avoiding an asteroid big enough to finish them all. Just as abruptly as it began, it was over. Nothing but stars and skies were in front. Drake demanded a shield report.

  “Shields are as follows: zero percent, seventeen percent, three percent,” Despite the shield situation, Jaws sounded impressed. “Great handling, cap,” he said to Drake with adoration in his eyes.

  “Wonderful … just absolutely gorgeous. I should have expected something like this would happen. All of our shields, wasted like so much cannon fodder in a foolish attempt at a greedy position. My luck in life.” The dejection and frustration in Drake’s voice was as unmistakable as his normally authority. He completely disregarded the compliment from Jaws.

  Drake was already scanning his holochart gazers for another planetary stop. It had to be a good distance, but also a popular stop for all racecrafts. The speed and efficiency of a well-trained support crew was imperative. Thought of another unplanned stop made Drake angry, so he decided to get a coffee while he mapped out the course. He switched the controls off of manual once more.

  On his way through the consuming corridor, Drake found exactly the planet he was looking for. After the coffee break, he would set course and speed onward. A satisfaction stole its way into Drake’s mind while dispensing his well-deserved coffee. He felt confident that he could win this event. The very moment the cup hit his lips, sweet revitalizing aroma filling his nostrils with the scent he most treasured, there was a gigantic crash and again, the craft was jerked significantly. The coffee splashed everywhere on and off of Drake. Drake himself was knocked to the floor in the tremor and his temper reached beyond its limit.

  “What in the hell was that?” He roared out, pressing the intercom button that would connect him to the navigational quarters.

  “Sir, there was a straggler asteroid trailing the storm. It hit us with full force. We’re down to ten percent of one shield.” Sammy’s tone indicated he sympathized with Drake. “It also knocked us off course, you better get up here.”

  “On my way,” and with that, Drake veritably ran back to his command post.

  Plopping down into the control chair, he flipped the switches giving him manual control and sought out their site on his gazers. Without warning, Drake felt the distinct sensation of entering the orbit of a gravitational pull. There was a planet here that was not on his holochart gazers.

  “Engines to impulse power, now!” Drake exclaimed, and then continued, “It’s going to get rough, here, boys and girls. We’re closer to a stop than we thought.” Just then, it came into complete view as they circled to a place in orbit that would permit the full sight of the planet against a backdrop of total blackness.

  The planet was so white that it was almost blinding to look at in such utter dark. They sped out of orbit and into the strange new world’s atmosphere, morphing from a speeding bullet into falling dead weight. Drake was scarcely able to pull level with the horizon, but it was to no avail. The racecraft crunched the surface and stuck on impact. Half buried in ice, the force of stopped momentum rendered escape improbable.

  Everything was ice. The outer portion of the number thirteen was steadily freezing itself into the solid mass of frozen matter that was this new discovery. This was audible inside the ship to all but Freddie, who was knocked out during collision. There was no power running whatsoever. Dimly, the cries of Uciferi could be heard echoing through the main corridor.

  Drake was the first to move. Without speaking, he forced his way over, around, and through wreckage to and out of the loading zone and into freezing temperatures so extreme, he dived back inside and closed the hatch manually. Only one second exposed told Drake all he needed to know about how much to bundle up when leaving the security shell of the racecraft.

  He changed his course to the life support systems, instead. When he came within sight, Drake told Uciferi to quiet his whining or isolation would seem to be a vacation. Drake threw the switch on the back up life support box, and everything hummed back to life. He then returned to the navigation center to see the condition of his crew.

  Priscilla was bringing Freddie back to the world of conscious. Bruvold was wasting no time in shaming Freddie for his weakness. Jaws sat alone in his station, cradling his oversized sniffer with one lacerated hand. Sammy seemed to be doing the best. Watching everyone, he was smiling his smile, but Drake knew him to be calculating a way to get out of this. Kraus was trying to be all over the place at one time, starting repairs that would take a long time, and moving to small, easy fixes, all at random. Juhaen was holding a piece of broken dispenser tube, gazing thoughtfully at nothing.

  “Everyone listen up,” Drake spoke loudly, but he was not yelling. “We are in a very grave situation. We’re all going to die, just like poor old Croxy.”

  Juhaen snapped his attention toward Drake. Jaws sat with his mouth agape, dumbfounded. Priscilla, who was in the process of pinning the recently revived Freddie’s head to the ground because of Freddie trying to kiss her neck, stood so quickly it was a blur. Kraus had never heard his captain speak this way, and that brought him out of his panic, but maybe started something worse. Bruvold marched to Drake’s side, crossed his arms and proclaimed that he was not for dying. Sammy couldn’t believe his ears. Drake Judge did not know the meaning of surrender, unless he was forcing it. What could make him think death was imminent? The smile was gone from his lips with the same speed the color drained from his face.

  “Cap?” Jaws tried to think of what to ask, but nothing came to mind. Drake, saying they were all going to die seemed like a dream to him. Nothing could frighten Jaws more than the prospect of his own death.

  “I opened the hatch to the loading zone for no more than one second and I could feel the frost in my nose. We are at least fifty percent buried in what looks like ice. The racecraft is heavily damaged. Now, are you ready for the bad news? This planet is uninhabited. There is no sun, which means no light but what we have with us. I’m telling you people, we are all going to perish here on this block of frozen water!” At this last outburst, Drake turned and sped for his personal quarters. He would no longer face his crew. His decision-making skills were deteriorating rapidly with every choice. He felt almost as if he were going insane. Out of greed for points in overall standings, Drake had doomed his entire crew, his only friends. Locking himself in his room, he scrambled his brain trying to come up with a plan.

  In less than five minutes, there was a knock. Drake intended to ignore whoever it was. This was not the time for interruptions. The knock came more persistently, this time accompanied by a voice.

  “Captain, I must speak with you,” Juhaen pleaded through the door with anxiety. “I need your help to make it work.”

  Assuming that the food and beverage regulator was referring to the broken delivery dispenser tube he was holding earlier, Drake floundered angrily to his door and opened it.

  With a scowl he asked sarcastically, “Is this about getting us out of here?”

  “Actually, I think it could be,” Juhaen replied calmly.

  Drake wasn’t ready for that response. Startled, he took hold of the front of Juhaen’s work suit and pulled him inside. This was the first instance in which any crewmember had ever been in the captain’s personal quarters, and Drake was vaguely intrigued that it happened to be a new member.

  “What have you got?” Drake asked harshly.

  “Well, I don’t know how to make it work,” he began, holding the tube out in front of him like a peace offering. “I was thinking we could shoot fire through these tubes, somehow.”

  Drake started
to contemplate what the little man was telling him. In theory, it sounded good, all they needed was something to propel heat out of one end of the tube, yet still have a way to hold onto it and direct the aim. He was beginning to trust that he might actually be able to make this work. He also believed that Juhaen was soon to be the highest paid food and beverage regulator in the league.

  Drake and Juhaen headed back to the navigation center to tell everyone the plan and see what ideas they could come up with. Drake had already figured out how they might be able to hold the tubes. In the loading zone was a quantity of impermeable alloy that was malleable enough to shape around the perimeter of anything, compliments of Bruvold, who had brought many fine objects of fortification and assault.

  “We think there may be a way,” Drake spoke as soon as he stepped from the corridor into the room. “Juhaen has brought up a good point. We can use the delivery tubes to harness and direct heat to melt the ice. I want everyone to gather all the thermal gear on board and wear as much as possible. I’ll find lights for everybody. We have to get main power back to the ship, or we’re all going to freeze before the end of the night.”

  “There’s a lot of extra fuel we can burn to make the heat, but how are we going to burn it in the tube without losing all of our skin?” Sammy asked.

  “The canisters that were given to us by the league containing the race uniform you are wearing are hollow. Punch holes in one end of two canisters, fill them with fuel, and then tie them together. Connect hoses from the hole in the fuel tank to the tube and cover half of the tube with that special metal that Bruvold brought with him. When you’re finished with that, put straps on the canisters so it will fit on your back. Then bring it to me. While I look for lights for everyone, I’ll come up with something that creates sparks to ignite the fuel.” As Drake issued these commands, he saw the potential was better than he thought.

  “That’s absolutely brilliant,” said Kraus.

  “Bruvold will help you build,” Bruvold stated loudly, turning to Sammy. The construction of their rudimentary flame-thrower took around twenty-two minutes, during which time Sammy and Bruvold had no trouble working together to make the contraption sturdy. In the end, they had six. The invention resembled a jetpack attached to a potato gun. The canisters were a gallon in volume, which was a problem because the fuel would burn out after only thirty seconds of usage. Sammy took no time in figuring out that they would probably go through a more than marginal amount of the reserve fuel by the time that they were finished digging out the ship.

  Drake was going through the confiscated items he had taken from random crewmembers over the years. He recollected one M.S.C. that considered himself a practical joker. This clown had brought aboard the racecraft, a box of hand buzzers, which would jolt the unfortunate victim with a spark of electricity. Tossing aside an old magazine that was not appropriate, he saw the box with a grinning buffoon on the side promising laughs and good times to anyone foolish enough to purchase their product. He then snatched the box and turned to go see how it was going with Sammy and Bruvold.

  Once the remainder of the crew was layered in the thermal clothing, covered with space suits, and gathered back into a group, Drake, Sammy, and Bruvold entered, each carrying two of the special fire breathing backpacks. It appeared that the two workmen were fast. It had been five hours since the number thirteen had crash-landed into this planet, and already they were prepared to try to get themselves out.

  “Is captain for feeding and helping leetle man in cage? Or is he for freezing?” Bruvold looked astonished and turned to Drake as if he had just remembered poor Uciferi.

  “Yes, go quickly. Get back here the second you’re done.” Drake had not even thought about the captive with everything that was going on. He didn’t have time to think about it now, either.

  Waiting for Bruvold to return, Drake asked for volunteers to wear the packs outside and start melting the ice prison that had entrapped them like a duck’s foot in a frozen pond.

  Sammy and Kraus were first to heave the packs over their shoulders. The eager expressions they both wore were testament to the fact that both men loved adventure, and this little escapade fit their individual styles. Juhaen and Freddie made eye contact, shrugged, and started helping each other into their packs. Drake had just finished donning his own fire pack and was feeling a bit skeptical when Bruvold strolled in with his chest thrown out in the usual manner. Drake helped him into what he was thinking of as a back-bomb.

  Priscilla and Jaws watched all of this with trepidation. Priscilla wanted to help, but didn’t know what she could do. Certainly she couldn’t support that monster of a death contraption. It was taking all the will she had not to interfere and try to disallow anyone to wear such an atrocious abomination. She knew, of course, they had no other alternative. The back-up life support systems would not last for long, and would not keep them warm enough to survive. The only option was to try the first silly plan that came to mind, even if it did involve the same risk of death as the situation that it was meant to surmount.

  Jaws appeared to be petrified for his mortality. His wide, long obtrusive nose, always protruding six inches from the rest of his face, quivered in fear. He was changing again and he couldn’t stop it. When someone of Jozwiak’s race became terrified to the extent of doubting their own survival, he became indiscernible from anything in his immediate area. He may as well have been invisible to anyone who might have been looking. Nobody witnessed the communications expert as he slowly dissolved into his surroundings.

  Drake led the way to the loading zone after making sure all the straps were tight and everyone was as secure as they could be with two gallons of booster fuel on their backs, preparing to ignite it and shoot the fire from a handheld piece of glass tubing. As he reached the hatch opening to the freezing world, Drake instructed everyone to lower the visors on the helmets. The suit was heated and with the visor closed, the cold may still make them uncomfortable, but would not put them in extreme danger of losing life, limb, or both.

  Outside, they could hear nothing. Everything was pitch, black but the area of personal light streaming from each person. Advancing from the racecraft, Freddie slid on his second step, lifting his right leg high into the air. When he crunched into the ice, a small hole punctured one of the canisters on his back. Nobody saw it spilling onto the ground, because the light shimmered off of anything it was directed toward. All that was visible was ice, the rear end of the ship, and these six un-willful foreigners to this world looking hopeless.

  “I’m ok,” Freddie sang out, getting to his feet. “My face was not harmed, don’t worry yourselves. Sir Frederick’s beauty is as entrancing as it always was.”

  “Nobody was worried, now shut up and get busy.” Drake was in no mood for Freddie’s narcissism. “We need to be concentrating on not blowing ourselves to bits and pieces to freeze here like bite sized snacks for future visitors! Including your precious face, pretty boy.”

  Sammy and Kraus had brought along an extra drum of fuel to refill easily. The drum was specialized to control pressure and push the fuel through a hose in the top, which fit exactly to the hole in the gas pack that led the fuel out of the tank.

  The crew separated and lined up next to the vessel, but Drake was the first to kindle the booster petroleum and it erupted, blasting the ice, generating a massive bowl shaped crater.

  “Aim at the base of the ship, we need to dislodge it first.” Drake didn’t have to yell out to be heard, even though they were all positioned around the perimeter of the racecraft.

  While the other team members were thawing out the ice that was encrusting the front, Freddie tread carefully around the back to the other side. He had formulated a plan that he thought would help. Since he couldn’t get his igniter to light the fuel, he thought he would surround the craft pouring the fuel in a way that it would melt a large contributing factor, once it was lit.

  Drake strode along to the front of the race vehicle to blast the ice from the
special weapon cannons. As the ice began to melt away, he observed tiny sparks going off sporadically like little explosions. He recognized this as an uncommon reaction for normal ice, and figured he would investigate after ungluing the special weapons cannons and the normal cannons located on top, back further. The cannons were the most useful component on the racecraft, according to Drake Judge. Bruvold took Drake’s lead and began working on the left cannon, and Kraus joined in by heating up the right cannon. Juhaen and Sammy were blazing a trail following the base of the craft to the front.

  Freddie had stopped his fuel flow and was now trying once again to light it by pressing the igniter that Drake had installed. He wanted to spark his project and see if the theory could work as efficiently as he had aspired. It was lucky for all of them that he did not succeed. As it turned out, thanks to Freddie and his horribly mistaken dreams of glory, it would have been a much more difficult task at hand.

  Bruvold, Kraus and Drake had all met up on top of the craft, leaving the entire portion of the roof cleared and heated. Sammy and Juhaen stopped at the other side of the special weapons cannon when they saw Freddie’s silhouette in the lights from their suits. He had his back turned to the pair, and seemed to be slapping himself on the shoulder. When Sammy caught up and turned him around, Freddie screamed and jumped.

  “Why haven’t you been doing anything?” Sammy asked distressingly.

  “I can’t get my torch to light,” Freddie snapped defensively. “I’ve been concocting a brilliant plot to easily free the racecraft and let us get on with this infernal race,” he finished, exclaiming with a nasty, triumphant smile.

  “Just stand here and write your self-serving songs then, you trite buffoon.” Sammy let go of Freddie with a shove, landing Freddie on his back and making the hole in his pack a trifle larger. He then turned and motioned for Juhaen to come back with him to refuel.

  Around the other side, Drake was ordering everyone back inside for a warm up. Coffee was mandatory. They had been at it for about two and a half hours and no one could feel his hands. Juhaen trotted back around the front of the racecraft to tell Freddie to come inside, as he was the best on the ice, while everyone else hurried in out of the cold.