The Full Circle Six

by Edward T. Anthony

“All right, everyone,” Drake barked. “Party time is over. Get back to your stations or work, and let’s win this thing for real.”

  Every one of the crew was refreshed after the sleep and coffee, and they were all equally happy to get back to the Full Circle Six. They all were excited, knowing that they still held first place, as the delay was only two total days.

  In the navigation center, the team worked smoothly. They all felt a little closer to each other after their experiences, and all of the tension had been alleviated. Drake set course, and they took off, once again sure of themselves and their victory. The journey was almost over now.

  Drake was still flustered from the events on Purefection. He still could not believe that something as simple as a flower had held him under such complete control that he would spend his entire savings on property. Perhaps he could retire there, and rent out the other properties, he thought to himself. It seemed strange that a wedding had occurred. Drake had never heard of a man and wife on a team before, but did not have any objections to it, so long as the personal relationship did not hinder the professional one. Besides, he thought that the closer the team was to each other, the better their chances were of not only winning the race, but of having a winning record even after Drake was gone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Three Benchmarks

  Drake stood alone, smiling to himself, in the navigational quarters, next to the C.E. station. He had sent the others on a five-hour siesta to rest up for the stretch run. They had been running full strength for a month since the Purefection disaster, and the crew could use the rest. Drake felt he would have plenty of time to sleep once he was done with this drug-out race. He made sure the controls were all on auto and the engines were set on three quarters, and then Drake looked deep into his holochart gazers. He found what he was looking for and smiled even broader. It was the Clyme system, first of three benchmarks signaling the end of the Full Circle Six was drawing near. The Clyme system was also home of the great Clymenian black hole. Drake had always wanted to see this wonderment, but had never been to this part of the dimension, until now. The hole was much too powerful to do a fly-by, but Drake was determined to at least get close enough for one visual when his racecraft entered the appropriate system. It was rumored the Clymenian hole had a gravity pull ten times the power of even the strongest of engines, and Drake had no intention of testing these rumors. Nobody knew exactly what happened to crafts that were sucked into its massive hole. Some would say it transported the crafts to a different system; this conclusion was reached based on the lack of debris. Others say the crafts were undoubtedly crushed to dust, but the only thing for certain is that every craft that has ever crossed the threshold of the Clymenian black hole is unaccounted for.

  There is a memorial describing these incidents on planet Clyme, however, Drake was not planning on making another planetary stop. The number thirteen was fully stocked with fuel and was in an adequate enough state to make it to the finish. The Clyme system was less than two weeks away, and soon Drake would be able to establish the second point of reference in his gazers, the Tibot system, which contains the famous water planet Tibot. The core of the planet was not water, but Drake had heard the entire surface was one big ocean. The third and final benchmark he would locate is the Fazeir system, including the planet Fazeir otherwise known as the last planetary stop before the finish line. Fazeir, being one of the largest planets in the known dimension, could easily come into Drake’s view before Tibot.

  Drake lowered his head to study the scanners. Everything was running rather smoothly. He began going over their status, still keeping one eye on the scanners. The number thirteen was currently in the lead, the crew would soon be rested, they were approaching the last leg, all weapons were stocked and at the ready, plenty of fuel, and they even had one last time disrupter at their disposal that they could utilize. All in all, Drake couldn’t have dreamed of being in this situation on a number of different occasions, especially considering they started in dead last. He left the scanners to check on the remaining stations, and thoughts of his looming retirement crept in. Drake had no inkling of what he would do post Full Circle Six. All he had ever known was space racing, and to do something else would definitely feel awkward. He remembered his latest prize and quickly reached inside his leather jacket, to pull out the long, slender case. The red key caught his eye, when he opened the case, and he knew then what he was going to do, after retiring. He would discover the mysteries surrounding the strange, unknown, red key. Drake would learn as much as he could about dimensional keys, and explore the surfaces of planets that were new to him. It was not inconceivable to think that he might help map the rest of this dimension and maybe even some others. First he would have to win the Full Circle Six to prove he wasn’t a limited navigator, like so many considered him. Drake slipped the case back in its secure pocket, and took a seat in his tremendously comfortable navigation chair. It felt like a weight being lifted off of Drake’s shoulders to finally be sure of what he was going to do with the remainder of his existence.

  Drake was lost in daydreams about dimensional keys and mapping when he got an urge for some coffee. He was just about to get up and get a cup when Sammy entered the navigation center carrying two large mugs.

  “Too excited to sleep much and knew you would be awake, so I thought I’d bring up some refreshment,” Sammy said, holding a cup out to Drake.

  “You read my mind, Sammy boy.” Drake snatched the mug up and took a medium guzzle, smacking his lips in delight afterwards.

  “How long till we go full speed?” Sammy asked. He couldn’t wait to get to the end of the race, take a small, much needed vacation, and prepare to take over navigational command duties of the number thirteen.

  “Roughly two hours.” Drake took another gulp and continued, “ I’ve already mapped out the Clyme system. We should be there in a couple of weeks … you think we’ll win?”

  “No sweat champ. Looks like you could use another cup, huh?” Sammy couldn’t help but chuckle at his commander, who had emptied his mug upside down into his mouth, during the response. Drake chortled back and nodded, then got to his feet to go refill his mug in the consummation quarters, with Sammy strutting beside him.

  Surprisingly, the two found Juhaen making coffee in almost a sleepwalk, when they entered the consuming quarters. Drake did not expect the F.B.R. to go beyond his duties and put in extra work, considering he was currently the lowest paid member of the team, due to his wages being cut.

  “To what do we owe the pleasure?” Drake said loudly, startling Juhaen. Sammy let out a wail that was meant to be a laugh, while refilling his mug.

  “Oh … hi, I … I just want this thing to be done with. I’ve been making repairs non-stop since you sent us to our sleeping modules. I thought I’d make some fresh coffee, before everyone woke up and drank it all. If anything goes wrong, it won’t be my fault, Sir.” Juhaen said, continuing to fill the dispensers.

  “You might end up with full pay yet. Keep it up, but don’t be late to the navigation center and make sure you’re alert.” Drake actually patted Juhaen on the back in recognition of doing more the he was asked, something he usually reserved for Sammy or Kraus. “Sit down and have a cup with us. You’re gonna need it.” Drake gestured for Juhaen to serve himself a coffee and take a break.

  When Juhaen had finished what he was doing and settled into a seat to join the other two, Drake initiated a friendly conversation that did not involve the Full Circle Six, but of Drake’s retirement plans.

  “Tell me again what you heard about the red key and anything you might have left out.” Drake addressed Juhaen, who became more awake at the mentioning of the fabled key.

  “It’s a legend in some parts, like I said before, but no one I’ve met has known its origin. The crystal legend talks of one hundred dimension doors leading to the original dimensions, and one red door that leads to the last dimension, number one hundred one. Normal dimensional keys cannot open all of th
ese doors. The only thing else I remember is the red door was created for some kind of balance. Don’t ask me what kind, but it is said if you’re not allowed in it will crush you.” Juhaen looked deep in thought for a few moments and finished, “That’s all I’ve got, it’s sometimes referred to as the demon door, but that’s probably because it’s red and it’s rumored to kill.”

  “One hundred dimensions?” Drake looked flabbergasted.

  “One hundred one.” Juhaen corrected the commander.

  Sammy was no longer smiling, but was staring blankly. He didn’t understand why they were having this discussion right now. It would make more sense to be talking about the finish of the race, Sammy believed, so he didn’t say anything and just sipped his coffee silently, in thought about his upcoming press conference, announcing his promotion.

  “You believe this garbage?” Drake asked, although it was tough to tell whom. Sammy acted as if he hadn’t heard. Juhaen obliged and answered after it was apparent Sammy wasn’t going to.

  “Well, it is only a legend. Myth if you will. I had never seen, nor heard of, any proof, until you mentioned something about the red key, before the start of the race. It kinda fits … I guess.” Juhaen had not personally viewed the key, but Drake did recall a number one hundred one inscribed on the red key. It was hard to imagine, though, that so many dimensions existed, when he hadn’t even so much as glimpsed half of this one. It was at least something to go on and Drake was getting excited about investigating the uses of the red key. He forced himself to suppress his excitement and concentrate on the task at hand, finishing the race.

  “We better get back to the N.C., nobody there to watch the scanners.” Drake said, rising to his feet. He and Sammy filled the mugs up again, and left Juhaen to finish his own.

  Sammy and Drake were running routine weapon check-ups when Kraus showed up sporting a mug and a loaf of bread. He sat down at the engines station and began sucking down his breakfast, hardly pausing for breath.

  “You’re up … Good.” Drake proclaimed. “Sammy, go find Juhaen and get him on shields, you can operate scanners. Kraus can stay where he’s at and we’ll be set to go full speed again.” There were enough members awake to man the essential stations and Drake was ecstatic he wouldn’t have to wait until the entire allotted sleeping time was expired.

  Sammy and Juhaen settled into their pre-ordered positions around the time Kraus was putting the last of his meal inside his chops. Kraus took a gulp of coffee to wash down his big mouthful of food and maximized the engines, without the need of being ordered to do so. Drake activated manual navigation and began following his plotted course to the Clyme system.

  “We have a recorded contact here from the number two.” Sammy announced bitterly.

  “What? When? I was just at the scanners before you came in.” Drake was absolutely positive there were no messages prior to him going down to the consummation quarters.

  “Around eighteen minutes ago. Looks short. You want me to play it? Sammy asked, calmly scratching his elbow.

  “Alright, let’s hear what the scum has to say.” Drake normally didn’t listen to contacts from rival racers; nothing prosperous ever seemed to come from it. The message was most likely misleading information or unfriendly banter, either way at least it was brief.

  “Iwillbewaitingforyou.” Sammy replayed the less than two second contact a few times, just to be sure of what it said. The message came out almost in one syllable making it a little difficult to decipher.

  “Anybody get that?” Juhaen had a disgusted look on his face, as if he had smelled something rotten.

  “It said, I will be waiting for you,” grunted Drake in a dark tone.

  “Well, what does it mean? Have they passed us?” Juhaen asked, now looking edgy.

  “I don’t know. What do you think Sammy?” Drake was not going to allow himself to make rash decisions based on a contact, but if Oblize had indeed passed the number thirteen, his obligation was to get the position back by any means.

  “Anything’s possible out here,” Sammy answered then paused for thought and continued, “At any rate, Oblize isn’t going to wait anywhere for anyone, he was probably talking about the victory platform or trying to coax us to race on the cautious side so he can catch up with us.”

  “He could be thinking about revenge. He knows we have an ice cannon just like his brother had and he might think Drake is responsible for his death. If my brother’s murderer were racing me it would not be beyond me to strategically wait and ambush. If Oblize were thinking this way and he succeeded in taking us out, he wouldn’t have to worry about us winning anything anytime and he would get revenge. Two goals with one gun.” Kraus added with a stern demeanor.

  “That is plausible, I don’t think we should discount a surprise attack.” Drake was maintaining manual navigation for the duration and although he wasn’t thrilled about it, he would now have to wake up the rest of the crew to secure defensive positions. Drake activated the intercom and addressed the slumbering teammates. “All crew report to the navigation center for duties. We have no more time for napping. Repeat, all crew report to the navigation center.”

  “If he was going to destroy us wouldn’t he have done it earlier when he supposedly passed us? We must have looked like an exceptionally easy target.” Juhaen agreed with Sammy about Oblize referring to the end of the race. Kraus was ready for this comment and responded.

  “That’s a good point, but there could be a number of reasons he didn’t. He might have had to do a planetary stop, he could have been moving at hyper speed, or he may have appeared in front of us from the result of a time disrupter. It could all be nonsense but best not to discount an angry racer scenario.”

  Juhaen looked as if he was going to retort, but said nothing. Freddie arm and arm with Priscilla came sleepily up the ramp followed closely by the disgruntled looking Bruvold and the big-nosed Jaws. They all stood, just inside the navigation center, looking like they recently returned from a natural disaster.

  “Go get yourselves some breakfast, then hurry back here. Don’t forget to feed the prisoner, Bruvold.” Drake gave the tired bunch a quick glance and jerk of the head. The group obeyed at once without a word and upon returning they were all holding coffee mugs and livelier expressions.

  “Freddie, stop brushing Priscilla’s hair and get on engines. Jaws your on scanners, move it. Sammy goes ahead and slide over to shields. Juhaen and Bruvold, each of you, pick a cannon. Kraus, take special weapons, and I want you to be ready to go down and reload if need be.” Drake noticed Priscilla was already at the life support station so he didn’t directly address her. “I called you up early because there’s a chance we’re not in the lead anymore and Boxton may be waiting somewhere to attack us. We know this from a recorded contact sent to us by the number two. My guess is they used hyper-speed to pass us and as a result could only leave a fleeting message. Our best bet is to do the same thing. If anything, it will put us less than a week away from the Clyme system and that much closer to our goal. What do you think people?” Drake would have taken silence as affirmative, but the crew made that notion moot.

  “Let’s do it,” beamed Sammy.

  “Faster is better.” Bruvold beat his chest with his left fist, and then saluted his cannon.

  “Starting to prepare now.” Freddie gave Sammy a nod.

  “I was thinking the same thing, hyper-speed,” agreed Kraus.

  “Whatever you say, cap,” Jaws commented respectfully.

  “Seems like the right thing to do,” said Priscilla softly.

  “You’re the champ, Drake, it’s in the bag.” Juhaen said, while starting to strap himself into his cannon chair.

  When hyper-speed was initiated, once again Drake found himself in a world of rapid-fire lasers that he had to avoid striking, and he loved every bit of it, the bone shaking sound, the extensive muscle strain, the inventive colors, and the rush of putting your racecraft in jeopardy. If every commander were forced to race this way,
he would never lose.

  Drake felt he would be more off course during this venture, because he had to dodge one way and was unable to compensate to the other direction with maximum efficiency. Sure enough, when hyper-speed subsided Drake found they were a couple days off course, but the good news was they could still make it to the Clyme system within eight days. Drake disengaged manual navigation momentarily to stretch his arms and asked, “How are the shields holding up?”

  “Plenty of shields left. There’s only one damaged, it’s at seventy seven percent.” By the time Sammy answered him, Drake was already navigating again and with a noticeable grin on his face. He was not alone in his good mood as the entire crew was elated, knowing they were closing in on one of the benchmarks.

  Over the next couple of days, the worry about a surprise attack from Boxton weakened, and Drake began sending the crew on breaks two at a time. He felt somewhat unpleasant for calling them up early on account of a contact he never should have listened to, so he didn’t care if they slept, ate, cleansed, or played games during their allotted stretch.

  Sammy chose not to go on break, staying in the navigation center with Drake. He was going to be a commander soon and wanted to be as much like Drake as he could. Sammy would never treat sleep as optional, the way Drake did, but he planned to keep up for days to try and impress upon the commander that he did not make a wrong decision in appointing him the next in line.

  Priscilla and Freddie took their breaks together and was either swooning in the consuming quarters or romancing in their personal quarters. When Bruvold and Kraus took their breathers it usually meant a battle of hand-eye harmonization in the recreational quarters. Although Jaws and Juhaen took their breaks at the same time, they did not spend them with each other’s company. Jaws always went straight for his personal quarters and Juhaen either made minor repairs on the racecraft or nourished himself in the consuming quarters.

  Drake relentlessly controlled the number thirteen racecraft, only briefly disengaging manual navigation to down mugs of coffee given to him by Sammy, or to stretch his arms and legs. To Drake the hours and days flew by and when the number thirteen approached the first benchmark, he insisted he get a visual of the Clymenian black hole on screen.