The next day, repairs were finished, and everything was set for launch. The Dooghinian commoners had suffered another loss to an attack, sprung by the castle’s inhabitants, but were now under league protection, while the governing body was under investigation. Drake was anxious to leave this nightmare behind. He was also highly suspicious at Freddie’s sudden return to acting as he did before, as if the E.F.O. had no dark side, but was all beauty and love. Drake didn’t buy it. He had seen the beast in Freddie’s eyes, and heard its snarl in his chest. He wondered to himself what else, if anything at all, could cause sir Frederick to behave in the same manner in which he did at the castle.
The navigation command post operator, Drake Judge, called the crew to collect in the navigation center. It was time to launch. Hopefully, they had not lost too much position, as they had only been docked for three and a half days. It was still much longer than Drake would have preferred during an unplanned stop, which most of his stops were turning out to be so far.
Successfully launching themselves back into the race, the crew of the number thirteen was already thinking of the ordeal as a surreal dream-like experience. They all had their own reasons for needing this win and each individual was separately insistent in achieving the goal as a group. Once their course was set, and they were cruising at maximum engine power, Drake ordered everyone to naps and nourishment. Everyone had an allotted six hours, in shifts of three crewmembers.
After the first shift, which consisted of Jaws, Freddie, and Bruvold, departed for required rest, Drake thought he could do with some nourishment himself, so walked down to the consuming quarters for a meal. He ate three ears of corn, about a pound of meat, and a loaf of bread, chased down with four cups of coffee, the last of which he took along with him to check the scanners and see what, if anything, lie in the path ahead or behind them.
The screens were blank, and Drake was bored, so he switched to manual control to be able to control the racecraft physically. This also gave him something to do with his hands, and his concentration. He was frustrated not knowing to what place the delay had dropped them into. Again, the thought crept in that suggested there was some entity or force willing his progress, or lack of, along. It was not too long before Sammy broke the boredom.
“Looks like another fight up ahead, cap,” he warned Drake.
“Want to join in?” Drake was only half joking with this question.
“Actually, we probably should, it’s the number two and the twenty six.” Sammy knew his friend would have preferred to fight, even if Folders was not involved.
“Kraus, wake up or gather everyone on break, we’re going to need the whole crew,” the commander ordered his best weapons operator, starting to feel as if something might be salvaged of this horrendous month.
While Kraus was rushing to comply, Drake navigated in a position to be able to come up from below the number two craft. When Jaws got back, he would establish mental contact with his race partner, and work to double team the enemy in order to continue with the race without losing a lot of unnecessary time.
Freddie and Jaws shuffled in a few minutes later, both of them sleepy and disoriented. Bruvold followed less than thirty seconds later, marching with a purpose, and not the least bit incoherent. Without being told, he strapped himself in to the right cannon’s operator seat and stared directly ahead, awaiting orders. Drake sent Sammy to the other cannons and Priscilla to the shield station. Juhaen was to stay in the Cannon loading zone at all times. Kraus would operate special weapons, and Jaws and Freddie would work their normal stations of scanners and engines respectively.
“Give me mental contact with the number twenty six, C.E.” Drake put his mental receiver over his denim hat and awaited contact, while still maneuvering the racecraft below the number two.
“What do you think you‘re doing? ” Folders sounded just as scared, as Drake was excited.
“Helping you to destroy my nemesis,” Drake replied as if this should be obvious.
“If you think he doesn’t know you‘re here, you are sadly mistaken, my friend!” Folders was relieved to see Drake, whatever his afflictions, and it was apparent in his thought pattern.
“Just keep him busy till I get in range.” Drake was sure that this would be his moment of glory over the Oblize family.
“Right, ok. Just don’t take too long.” Freddie terminated transmission after this last depressed message.
“Kraus, how long until you can hit him with the cold?” The captain could not stand to wait much longer.
“Closing in now, cap,” Kraus, sounded relaxed and ready.
“Well, fire the second you’re able to,” Drake instructed.
Just before Kraus pressed down on the fire button in the special weapons station, Jaws reported another racecraft coming in from the east, but could not yet tell which team it hosted. Kraus had scored a direct hit, and the number two was frozen in space. Ten seconds afterward, Drake received another mental contact transmission.
“This is Boxton Oblize of the Mandatory Meats number two racecraft, and circuit champion, the smugness of the last Oblize came booming into Drake’s head. “Where did you get that weapon? ”
Drake smiled as he answered. “I found it on a big chunk of ice floating through space.”
“You arrogant fool!” at this point Boxton was beyond enraged. He had figured out that Drake killed his younger sibling, but thought that it had been for the weapon. Drake’s explanation, he believed to be an outright lie. “Now you shall truly find out how unfortunate it is to be one of my enemies.” The contact was broken as abruptly as with Folders.
“All cannons fire on the two!” Drake was shouting this command, but did not know this. Even if he had, he certainly would not have cared. As the last word escaped his lips, the racecraft was hit solidly in the side.
“The number eleven is approaching, sir.” Jaws informed, just a little too late.
“All cannons direct hits on the number two,” He added, after a scowl from Drake, Bruvold, Sammy, Kraus, Freddie, and Priscilla.
The commander had no time to judge the flaws of the communications expert, for the craft was bashed again, this time from both sides, making the inside of the number thirteen tantamount to being in an earthquake registering an eight on the scale. Drake steered his ship in twists and turns, trying to get a good vantage point to see both enemy crafts, when he pulled around just in time to witness the number eleven being pummeled by cannon fire from the number nine, who had just joined in the melee fun.
The eleven, Drake knew he would have had to deal with, after that fight they were forced into for planetary stop purposes, but he had expected never to see the nine again, just for the simple reason that he would not have returned the favor in their position.
“The number two has stopped all engines.” Jaws sounded like he was getting nervous again.
Drake wondered vaguely if he should do the same, but he could scarcely believe that Oblize had tried such a feat. It was obvious that the point leader and champion was preparing to use a time disrupter, but taking the chance of stopping completely with all this cannon fire flying around was close to suicidal.
Every racecraft was being hit by quite a lot of shots, but the Mandatory Meats craft was taking it from all angles. The only thing that saved the life of Boxton Oblize, is the accidental shrouding, caused by the fogger special weapon of the number fifteen, which had entered the battle without anyone knowing it, for its stealth capability made it invisible to any scanners or viewing screens.
The fifteen may well have been the deadliest racecraft on the circuit. Only the driver, and the fact that it was his rookie season, kept it from being more dangerous than it was. This was the first rookie to ever run the Full Circle Six, and most people, especially reporters, chastised him for this endlessly since the day that he announced he would be running in the infamous event. Not only did it have the stealth and foggers to make it invisible, but it also had the only semi automatic cannons equipped of an
yone on the circuit.
Drake began to feel uneasy. They were being hit every couple of seconds, and the shields were dropping consistently. He could see nothing because of the rotten fog, and had no idea as to whether or not his cannons were hitting anything at all. For all his skill, maneuverability was more difficult than he had ever imagined it could be. Nowhere could he dodge random fire, and he could not get around or through the fog so far. It began to look, to Drake anyway, that their doom was imminent.
“How much longer for another ice capsule to be ready?” Drake asked Kraus.
“Two minutes, twenty seconds,” Kraus replied mechanically. Drake did not think that they had that much time before the shields were all demolished, but still did not plan to just lie down and die. He would go out in a magnificent blaze of destruction.
“How are the shields?” Drake suspected the answer to this, but did not truly know it.
“Shield one; eighteen percent. Shield two … thirty two percent. Shield three; seventy four percent.” Priscilla’s voice sounded off like a female robot. All three shields were better off than Drake had believed them to be in the first place, so he was not disappointed.
Disappointment quickly became the least of his worries as a raining barrage of cannon fire hit his valued racecraft once more. The craft lurched and jerked when a special weapon of the number eleven slammed the underside. This knocked Drake and his crew directly into the path of an electrical outburst resembling a bolt of lightning. The attack was the number nine craft’s special weapon, intended to hit the number two. Instead, the number two disappeared, leaving the charge to hit Drake with the path clear.
Suddenly, the fifteen was visible on screen, but not on scanner. Drake tried to bring the nose of the number thirteen around to the left and was met immediately by the rapid fire of the fifteen. Cursing, he pushed into a dive with a half twist and brought the craft up with his nose pointed toward the stealthy ship’s rear thrusters.
“Fire all cannons!” Drake screamed the order in his excitement. Finally, he would show this little punk why the Full Circle Six was considered too dangerous for rookies.
Drake watched silently, his smirk slowly widening to a grin, as an ice capsule, followed by three missiles, made for a direct route to the engines and thrusters of the number fifteen. An explosion, created by one of the cannon’s projectiles hitting a mine left by Folders, forced the fifteen away from harm, and the ice capsule glided harmlessly past the slippery beginner into the unsuspecting number nine.
“Oblize is gone!” Jaws reported in dismay. “He had to have used a time disrupter.”
Drake had already deduced as much, but with all the pandemonium going on, had no time to even think about it. Their lives were again at stake, and he found himself pondering not survival, but victory overall.
Invisible once again, the fifteen craft slowly retreated into its fog, looking for a rout to a planetary stop. The rookie had seen enough and was anxious to escape with his life. He had not expected to witness such a spectacle. His goal was to take another racer out, thereby improving the finishing place of his team.
While the fifteen was escaping, Folders released his fury, and emptied his cannons on the number eleven. Drake watched this in reserved amusement. He was thinking of making contact with the number nine to find out if the damage he had caused was severe, when he saw the craft strike a shield mine dropped by Folders. The craft was instantly obliterated.
All at once the area was clear of all but the thirteen and their teammates in the twenty six. After a momentary stunned silence, the crew erupted in a cheer. Minimum damage had been done to the shields, although the bottom thrusters were damaged and could not be repaired without a stop, and the three cannons were overheated, so would not fire for some time.
Freddie’s voice rang out after the applause and whooping died down, giving Priscilla a chill. “I can still hear the sound of cannon fire.”
“Mental contact from the twenty six, sir,” Jaws reported softly. Drake put on the headset, ready to congratulate his partner on this terrific battle, but his mood was shut down after he heard what the number twenty-six Captain had to say.
“Proceed to planned stop on planet Furgit. I’m done, Drake.” The gloom was nearly powerful enough to transmit along with the thoughts.
“Explain yourself, Fred …” Drake did not like the tone of this contact message.
“On the ground, Drake. This is one of those face to face things.” Without another word, Folders broke contact; leaving Drake to speculate on what could be going on with the teammate he’d had since he could remember.
Drake threw the headset aside in irritation. He then ordered the crew to prepare for a stop while he set the course to Furgit alone. Whatever was eating at Fred’s mind, it was nothing small. Surviving a battle like that should be cause for celebration, not dejection. Perhaps the reunion would lighten his spirits a little, Drake thought, picturing a hearty pat on the back and a shared small bottle of contraband fire-drink in memorial to the losers.
The course was set and it appeared the way was clear, so Drake set the controls to automatic and stood up to break for coffee. Stretching, he turned to Bruvold and instructed the security operator to check on their prisoner in isolation. He then invited Sammy to the consummation quarters along with him. Sammy had also been teamed with Folders for a long time, and might be able to help him figure some of this out.
Priscilla distracted everyone’s attention for a moment by shouting at Freddie, who was deafened and had no idea why his love was trying to hold his head down on the floor of the navigation center.
“Hold still, I’m trying to help you!” She shrieked into the side of his head.
“Why do you want to hurt me when I love you so?” Freddie’s normally singsong voice boomed out and echoed and resounded in the small quarters. It was apparent that he believed himself to be speaking at a normal level.
“Help! I want to help!” The medical operator was having trouble trying to keep from laughing at squirming Freddie, whose face looked horrified.
Drake suggested she give him a shot, while Sammy shook his head and laughed. He then put a hand on Drake’s shoulder to lead him down to the consuming quarters. Priscilla only smiled knowingly up at the two and proceeded to tend to the E.F.O.
After they had poured their coffee and sat down, Drake decided to tell Sammy about the glumness he had heard during contact with Folders.
“Maybe his crew wasn’t as lucky as us,” Samelak offered when he was through milling it over in his mind. “You know, maybe some of them didn’t make it.”
“Perhaps,” Drake replied, “It sounded like something big, though. I don’t know how to explain it, but I suppose it doesn’t matter much. We’ll see him in about four hours.”
“How far ahead you think Oblize got?” Sammy asked.
“Boxton is not a factor right now,” came Drake’s answer. “I’m sure we’re going to see him soon enough as well.”
Samelak Riordin knew better than to believe that Drake Judge, of all people, did not consider Boxton Oblize a factor, but he also knew well enough not to say so out loud. The two friends sat for another twenty minutes and three cups of coffee, talking about shared interests and past races. The relaxation and company was soothing to their nerves and each noted their own exasperation when the break ended, and they stood to leave back to navigation.
Upon landing, Drake saw that the number twenty-six would be a long time in leaving planet Furgit. The racecraft looked more like a split loaf of metal bread. There were holes throughout and long pieces of metal hung down from the body of the ship. Four people stood around the craft in racing uniforms. The only aspect of what he saw that Drake approved of was that humans inhabited this planet.
The commander waited until the craft was powered down and dismissed the whole crew for leisure time. He was going to go to his personal quarters and get his bottle of fire-drink, but decided that he would talk to Folders first. Drake was anxious to f
ind out what Fred’s problem was, other than the condition of his craft.
When he exited the loading zone, Drake saw with relief that the Furgits were civilized people. He had never been on this stop, but had heard of the planet and figured it to be another large group of criminals and outcasts. It seemed the entire universe was not space trash after all.
Their buildings were very tall, sleek and clean. The streets were paved with sidewalks set on both sides that were just as spotless. People ambled, seemingly aimlessly, in both directions on either sidewalk. The streets were spotted with small, motorless carts, which were set with the four wheels open on the sides. Everything was bright and peaceful, and it was hard to believe that a bloody, apocalyptic battle had occurred not too far away just hours ago.
Drake spotted Folders standing alone not far from the twenty-six with his hat in his hands and his head hanging. Drake jogged over and clapped his friend on the back.
“What’s to be down about? We just came out of the most intense fight I’ve ever seen, and we know that we’re top five now,” Drake tried to sound cheery, but the result sounded as if he were trying to impersonate Priscilla’s high pitched voice.
Folders looked up, tried to smile and found that he couldn’t, then blew out a heavy sigh. “I’m down to a crew of four. My medical operator is gone, along with the assistant. I have to drop out of the race.” Drake opened his mouth to respond, but was stricken speechless. He knew that Fred had lost a couple of members earlier, but four at once now? He realized that a loss that enormous would have to stop anyone from continuing a race.
“Come on up to my personal quarters with me,” Drake finally managed. “Let’s talk over a sip something strong.” Folders nodded in agreement and followed Drake back to the thirteen. It was going to be hard for him to tell Drake, who had been much more than a teammate since the union began, and he would prefer to do it with a hard drink. His heart felt as if it were a lump that made its way into his throat. So many good times he remembered with Drake. From rookie to legend, Folders had been there through it all.
The Full Circle Six Page 15
