by ÆGEON DAVIS
“He almost lost it for us by jumping inside me in the last minute,” Spectra interjected, but didn’t divert her focus from what she was doing.
Mechanica shot her a stink eye, and then rectified the company, “Listen up, it was a team effort to win. I suggest we get back to it or we’ll be up creek shit.”
“That’s up shit creek,” I corrected with a whole-hearted laugh.
“You’re right,” Spectra huffed to Mechanica. Then, she walked to the plush entertainment center and turned it on. “Well at least we can now analyze the race for ourselves.”
The display segmented hundreds of channels at one time. From alien press commenting on the various maneuvers to drone cameras flying around the winning Pit 1, the paparazzi-like frenzy was overwhelming. I saw Asta and her team smiling, with Corvus in the middle posing something like a body builder would for onlooking judges.
Spectra touched one square and raw footage of the race popped up. I could see Spectra and I maneuvering around on the beach just behind Coalesce Carrera. It was amazing how the recording drone could keep up with the speeds and lock down the scrambling motion of each racer. We focused on when Coalesce made her pass on the inside.
“She was slipstreaming me,” Spectra said, shaking her head.
Slipstreaming was the act of exploiting a lead racer’s aerodynamics by driving behind and reducing the air drag. For experienced drivers, this would be a risky technique, but if executed correctly the driver could slingshot past the leader because of a lower-pressure wake.
“I told you she was drafting on you. She slingshotted past us,” I said, throwing my hands up.
Spectra pursed her lips and crossed her arms, “Why are you still here? You fixed me and helped us advance. You fulfilled your sentence.”
It was obvious she didn’t enjoy being told what she did wrong. I remembered being the same way when I was younger.
The door burst open, letting in the soft light left in the day. A large half cat, half human stood at the gate dressed to the nines in a tuxedo that was obviously too small. His playful spotted tail swayed about.
“Mr. Michaels,” the brawny tomcat said in a bellowing voice. “The CarTsar requests your presence.”
I studied my team. Everyone had a cheerful smile save for Spectra. “Fine, if Spectra wants me to go, then I will.”
The Trixies pulled on my arm while Spectra stormed out. “No, don’t listen to her. We need you here. Spectra doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
“Listen to da’ Trixies and I.” Mechanica rolled up to me and touched my shoulder with her two left arms. “Spectra is just blowing off steam. She cares only for the win.”
“I’d say a little too much,” I said, staring her down. Then, I walked off with the enormous cat-like creature.
Sprawling red carpets connected the various hallways of the CarTsar’s palace. The structure was made of polished nurdle bits amalgamated into wrought-iron. It was strange seeing the deteriorating ore, as humans on Earth would have discarded it by now. But here it was inset between glossy plastic.
As I trailed behind the large cat man, I watched his erratic tail undulate around like it had a mind of his own. I counted the many times it had nearly knocked over precious decor as we walked. When we approached a set of glass cases built into the wall, his tail seemed to curl up and around his leg. It was almost as if it knew the section was an important one. I looked above to read ‘Hall of Champions.’
I inspected the mirror case and saw the many medals and achievements of the CarTsar. It read that he had been the first one to compete here on Cauldron and the first to win. There must have been a thousand races in all that I had counted that were happening across the galaxy.
One competitor caught my eye, as it was more humanoid than the others. He was wearing a Visor, and he was about the same size a human would be. I wondered if this was the champion that had tried to get away, and then I found his name: George McFly. The average statured man wore a full enclosed helmet covering his face. In his hand, was holding a medal that read: Freedom.
The vehicle he stood next to was also strikingly familiar; and looked like a modified nineteen-eighty-one Delorean. The fact he called himself George McFly was awesome! I kept walking, though I was distracted by the shiny gold cup that ended the display of awards.
I stopped and admired the trophy etched in alien writing. There were three tiers on it, and each tier represented a section of the race. I recognized the Great Nurdle Reef and then concluded the tier next to it was the Volcano of Virtue and its many switchbacks. Atop it all, the Cerulean Chasms sat in its brilliant electric blue color the caves were known for.
“Human, come with me,” growled.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya, Garfield,” I jested.
“Garfield?” My feline friend queried. “Who is this Garfield? My name is Archibald.”
I met up to his pace and placed my tiny hands on his finely tailored undersized suit, “Oh, no sweat, Archibald. He was a great warrior back on Earth.”
“Good,” Archibald said, motioning his fuzzy fingers to a hallway on my right.
As I turned the corner, the solid marble walls and red carpet floor transitioned to fine tapestry rugs and plush shag texture on the walls. The furry hallway also seemed to narrow. As it closed in on me, I could see small snaps of electrostatic shock. I extended my hands out while two pops of bright light jumped to my fingers and crawled up my arm.
It was amazing and left me feeling buzzed, like I had had several drinks.
“I hope my shag makes you feel comfortable,” a voice I recognized as the CarTsar hollered from around the corner. Shag? Is he shagging me right now?
After I took my last swipe at the euphoria-inducing wool, I stepped into a grand office that was four times the size of my apartment back on Earth. The room was filled with ornate sculptures of dark mahogany wood, polished metals and sleek stone. I admired the craftsmanship of each carving. In the center sat a wrought-iron desk, rusted along its corners and edges. The CarTsar was behind that, with his reptilian hands tapping each of his digits in succession.
“The shag delivers serotonin via electrostatic shock straight to the brain,” he said. “Often my guests are nervous when I request their presence. So, I use this to… ease the tension.”
The CarTsar was not like any reptilian creature I had seen before. Small spines jutted from his skin in a rectangular pattern. As he stood up, his height was similar to that of an average human. He walked around to the front of the iron table, running his hand along it as if to caress it. He wore a long purple overcoat with bright yellow tribal insignia that was iridescent.
“You did well in the Great Nurdle Reef Race,” he admitted, grabbing a covered silver platter from under his desk. He opened the lid, and to my dismay a fucking Twinkie sat perched on a bed of lettuce.
The anger compounded inside me. I wanted to flip that platter right back in his fucking face.
“This is what you humans like, no?” he asked.
“Hardly,” I added, biting my tongue. “I told you I would make good on my promise. Now I want to go home. Spectra is fixed and actually has a chance to win her freedom on her own.”
My remark made the CarTsar shift uncomfortably.
“What makes you think she wants to leave?”
“Winning is all she cares about,” I responded. “Freedom will come with that.”
“Lorean, there are many more races on many other worlds. The fame and glory a champion can achieve is galaxy-renowned,” he stated, walking back around his desk and picking up a flat disk. From the counter, a humanoid figure I recognized from the Hall of Champions projected in a slowly rotating turntable. “There was only one champion that wanted to leave.”
“Was this that George McFly?” I asked.
The CarTsar swiped his hologram picture out of the way and the vehicle he drove in broke into projection: his nineteen-eight-one Delorean. The CarTsar began to flick away the addition pieces of the car the driv
er had added on until there was just a steel double-Y-frame chassis.
“Yes, this man was both a great Fixer and Driver, a rare thing among humans until you arrived.”
I wasn’t sure what he was implying.
“George McFly made one of the best racing machines to drive in the Intergalactic Gauntlet, and he won his freedom,” the CarTsar said, then began to swipe again, which revealed a close up of the Fixer himself. “After I impounded your vehicle, I did some research and found that both automobiles were created from the same material and undercarriage, save for minor modifications to make room for a disgusting electric battery motor.”
I narrowed my eyes, not grasping the entirety of what he was insinuating. He then swiped away the Visor of George McFly and I could not believe what I was seeing. It was a man in his fifties, with curly brownish-gray hair and weathered brown eyes. He was identical to my father.
“But… that’s impossible,” I said, taking a gulp of air like it would clear my confusion.
“Is it?” The CarTsar hissed. “You traveled here in this vehicle, yes?”
“Yes, but I—”
“The champion known as George McFly traveled here and competed in the last cycle,” he said. “He told me this vehicle was the fastest hunk-a-junk in the galaxy.”
I tried to justify the timeline of when I had last talked to my father. It had been four years. And to think he found success on an alien planet representing all of Earth. I became emotional just thinking of his legacy I had never known about. From using George McFly as an alias to Han Solo’s line about the Millennium Falcon, my dad brought his love for movies here.
“Did you know this man?”
“Yes. He’s my father.”
“Then I knew your father closely.” The CarTsar’s eyes began to well up with tears and he held a heavy, somber look about him. “It was unfortunate when he tried to leave.”
My heart jumped a beat as the adrenaline dumped into my veins. I knew what he was getting at, and I let the anger well up inside me to ask, “What was unfortunate about leaving?”
“Lorean, they murdered your father,” he said coldly.
The dreary feeling sank deep within my soul as he spoke. I tapered my eyes trying, to contain the vengeance I would unleash on this reptilian asshole.
“Who murdered him?”
“When your father won, he freed himself but he disregarded the debts he had owed to a contractor,” he divulged.
“Who was the contractor?”
“Corvus Cauldron.”
I balled my fists and sucked in a deep breath as the rage overcame me. I walked to the iron desk and slammed my fist down. The CarTsar did not falter in movement. He leaned forward, twisting a smile.
“Are you sure you still want to leave?” he asked.
I couldn’t even think straight. Flashes of my father’s casket came flooding to my head—the debt of the Trixies’ sibling being cashed in. A fucking Twinkie Monster Truck of a douche bag. The anger vanquished every inch of my being.
“No, I want to win.”
“Good, well I suggest you take that Total XP you earned today and put it to use,” the CarTsar said. “And for your trouble, here is a gift. A Special Ability your father had been working on before he left. He called it Nega Maid.”
“What does it do?”
“The Nega Maid ability allows you to… suck a competitors Total XP during a race,” he said with a wry smile.
Interesting.
13
The Volcano of Virtue
The implication of my father coming here and winning a race had my head spinning. We hadn’t talked since the phone calls started slipping. Maybe he wanted to follow his dreams once he had an empty nest? The fact his precursor race car led to the TesLorean’s development was amazing. And how did it have the ability to travel light years across the galaxy? Was there some kind of Flux Capacitor I didn’t know about inside the car?
After my little talk with the CT, I had Archibald drop me back at my respective Pit. Before I entered the Pit, though, I glanced at my stats and saw I had ten more XP. The brackets around my Fixer ability were now back and fully operational, thankfully. In addition,And now I have this crazy sucking ability called Nega Maid that still needed to be un-italiced or unlocked. I chuckled to myself at how the ability sounded like Mega Maid from Spaceballs. My dad and I loved that movie.
Now, having played many leveling-up games when I was younger, I knew the best campaign strategies were to stay balanced. So, I grabbed the ten Total XP I had earned in the previous race and threw them to DRIFT Level attribute. I felt a surge within me while my DRIFT level gauge came up two levels.
Lorean Michaels1
As I walked in, I saw Mechanica had complete retrofitted Spectra with her new carbon fiber shell and had painted it a milky white. She was now airbrushing the red and blue accents along Spectra’s thighs that doubled as her side pod, where airflow scooped in when she was in vehicle mode. The car parts christened her body like a bathing suit model lying down.
The Trixies were the first to see me and jumped to their feet. Each one swung their arms around my neck teetering my balance back and forth.
“We missed you so much,” Trixie One said.
“We thought you left us,” Trixie Two added.
Spectra gave me a stern look and returned the gaze as I walked to my Visor and picked it up. My reflection peered back at me through the hardened glass. All I could think of was my father. I wanted to talk about it, but having the Trixies lose their brother led me to keep my mouth shut.
“I’m not leaving,” I said to the Trixies, then I eyed Mechanica and Spectra.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Trixie One and Two cried. “We thought you gave up on us.”
My heart warmed to their praises, and I wrapped my arms around them in a warm hug. Deep down I needed someone, and the Trixies were double the comfort.
“I need you too,” I said, feeling their reassurance.
“Good,” Trixie One declared. Then, she changed the subject and said, “Mechanica has installed the McFly thrusters and is having a hell of a time trying to stop the slipstreaming you guys experience.”
Mechanica finished painting the last racing decal stripe on Spectra, and then rolled away to a large fan system. They blasted Spectra with a burst of air. Shaking her golden locks as she dried off only furthered my speculation she was a vehicular swimsuited goddess.
“I’m afraid day are right, honey.” Mechanica said, cleaning her multiple hands off from any remaining paint. “I’m not sure how we can keep her fast without dampening her aerodynamics.”
When Mechanica explained what she was trying to do, my mind clicked into Fixer mode. I remember testing many variations of spoiler dampening with my father. The first thing we needed to do was get Spectra into that wind tunnel so I could see just what we could do with her body.
“Let’s do a test,” I suggested.
Spectra got off her perch and shifted herself into vehicle mode. Her engine purred under her new carbon fiber shell. She did a quick hop into the air, transformed, and rotated her wheels ninety degrees. Blue light then pulsed out of where a hub cap would have gone. I smiled as Spectra hovered in a rhythmic bounce. The hovering mechanics worked just like the DeLorean from the Back to the Future II.
“Good,” I said, walking over and trying to not express my overexcitement. “Now, hover into the air tunnel.”
The wind tunnel was a enclosed chamber with a set of two large fans that would funnel smoke along with air over a stationary vehicle. This would allow us to see where the air flowed the easiest and where I could make improvements.
Spectra hovered into the chamber and the Trixies closed the door. Behind the glass, Mechanica, the Trixies, and I manned the series of buttons that controlled the airflow and smoke. Mechanica started the wind turbine and then the smoke.
“I see it,” the Trixies said.
A small stream of white smoke shot from the fan on the left, rose o
ver Spectra’s fuselage, and then up onto her rear Wing spoiler. She was as sleek as they come and a dream for any drafter to get behind.
“Ya’ see? She’s slicker dan’ my oil trap,” Mechanica said. “If we mess wit’ any panel den she’ll slow down, counteracting any improvement we made wit’ your carbon fiber.”
After some thought I knew what I needed to do. One of my favorite movies was Talladega Nights and we were getting ‘Shake n Baked’ all right. In stock car racing, there was always a low-pressure wake behind the leading car, so the trailing car has a higher top speed. When the trailing car moved outside, they’d use that extra top speed to make the pass.
“Ok, I got it. We will need a hinged rear Wing that the driver can control,” I explained. “That way, when we are solo, we stay fast. Then, when a racer tries to ride our backside again, we can dampen the air on the fly, spoiling any kind of gain they can get in speed.”
Mechanica smiled, nodding her head. “Dat could work, honey.”
The Volcano of Virtue was quite the sight in the warm island morning. Salty air more pungent than usual pierced my nose, and for the first time I saw strange bird-like creatures flocking toward the cinder cone with leathery red and spotted black. They lacked any feathers and their skin had a reptilian quality about it. My mind wondered what other unusual creatures lurked about this planet.
Looking up at the volcanic mountain, thirty or more switchbacks carved into the side of the bluff. It was like a vertical zigzagging staircase to heaven. My mind wandered to the a horde of battling racers, bespattered with mud, and eating their way up a crooked raceway. From what Mechanica told me, this part used the essential Primary Skills: DRIFT Level.
