Space Race (Space Race 1)

by Nathan Hystad

  People in the crowd began chanting my name, or at least the moniker I was given as a youth. “Hawk!” was repeated over and over, the citizens ecstatic at my presence on their SeaTech team. I stood proudly, no longer second-guessing my decision to join up. Maybe this could be fun after all.

  It finally subsided, and Bryson kept going. “Next, I give you Jade Serrano, our engineering technician!” She gracefully darted out, giving a grateful bow, before rushing back in line beside me.

  “And how could I forget Luther Payne, tactical and mapping,” Bryson exclaimed.

  Luther took a tentative footstep, giving a brief nod before returning. Our big security officer’s eyes were always on the lookout for something out of place, and I suspected that after twenty years of protecting the executives, then the CEO of Lotus, it would take him a while to lose the reflex.

  “And the last doesn’t need introducing, but I will anyhow, for the sake of symmetry. My son, and future CEO of SeaTech, Holland Kelley! He’ll be racing the Pod.” The crowd went bonkers, and Holland hammed it up, pumping both fists into the air. Hundreds of digital tiki torches waved in the night. Smoke gently rolled from the food stations, and almost everyone held an orange drink in their grips. “With that being said, enjoy the dinner. We’ll commence training tomorrow!”

  Everyone’s gazes drifted to the sky, and I followed their stares behind us. A ship had appeared, glowing bright red. A ring flashed across the open space, orange like fire. The incoming vessel was approaching quickly, and I fought the desire to duck and take cover.

  As it neared, I realized it wasn’t real. It was another projection, but the largest I’d ever seen. The craft was intricately built, with gorgeous contouring, slick black and red paint, and it rolled to one side, showcasing the top of the object to the crowd. The number 11 was painted in white on the port wing. My heart raced as my adrenaline spiked at the sight. This was a projection of my new Racer.

  Suddenly, the insane idea of joining a Primary Race team didn’t seem so out of my comfort zone. The craft completed its roll and sped for the glowing ring, entering it. Digital fireworks cascaded across the star-littered sky as the ship and ring vanished.

  The show ended, and Bryson startled me as he spoke from behind. “What do you think of your new digs?”

  I turned toward him and squinted. “This is going to be fun.”

  Seven

  The initial few days were anything but fun. Training, as it turned out, meant various sessions from dawn to dusk for an entire week. I began my mornings in the underwater tubes, running a track with the others. Holland was accustomed to it, and it wasn’t rare for him to finish the hour-long slog a good ten minutes before the rest of us. Luther struggled to finish the first day, but by the end of the fifth, we’d all improved drastically, and Jade and I held pace with Holland. By the sixth morning, she beat him.

  “I don’t understand this. Why the physical exertion? Aren’t we flying a spaceship?” Luther wiped his face with a towel, his chest heaving from the effort.

  “Strong heart, strong mind,” Holland said. It was probably a saying from his father. Most of what he said could be traced to his mentor.

  “That’s fine, but the therapy. Isn’t that taking it a little far?” Jade complained. She hated talking with the team of doctors about her past, her dreams, and her present state.

  “A strong mind…”

  “All right, we get it. Everything is connected, but when do we take number eleven for a test ride?” I draped my towel over my head.

  “He hasn’t told me. But it’ll be soon.” Holland started for the showers.

  An hour later, I was clean and in a fresh SeaTech jumpsuit, sitting in the doctor’s office. My therapist was an older man who loved to wear beige pants and a white shirt with the Corporation’s logo on the chest. Doctor Gunner’s Tab was always in his hands, his leg crossed to prop it up so I couldn’t read his notes. I wondered if Bryson Kelley would take time to read the assessments or not, but I could only comply with the hopes this charade would end soon. We didn’t have long before the Race began, and talking to a shrink wasn’t going to win us the rights to Proxima.

  “How are you today, Arlo?” His voice was soothing, and he wiggled his foot while he waited for a response.

  “I’m okay, Doc. You?” He hated it when I asked him questions, but would answer the trivial ones, so I took it as a win.

  “I am well. Did you sleep all right?”

  “Look, can we cut to the part where you tell me I shouldn’t have punched a CEO, and that I need to focus on being present instead of projecting my issues onto unrelated targets?” I didn’t know what set me off, but I was suddenly tired of this.

  He made a few notes, not speaking. “Arlo, I’m here to help you win the Race.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “Have you ever been in a situation where you acted impulsively?” He raised his gray eyebrows.

  “Of course I have,” I muttered.

  “And perhaps, if you were able to assess what made you feel angry enough to strike that man, you might have made a rational decision.”

  “He had it coming. Frank Under only wanted his product safe, and for me to leave those innocent people stranded while they were killed. Not on my watch,” I said defiantly.

  “Seems reasonable. So you’ve determined that it was the proper choice?” he asked.

  It made me think. I pictured the smug CEO’s face as he told the public how proud he was of a heroic pilot’s actions, and when we were behind closed doors, how he’d flipped into a raging madman. He’d cursed me for losing time and product, and for damaging his ship. Punching him had been the logical course of action, despite being dropped by the largest Corp and throwing my dreams away.

  “It was the only choice.” My words felt like a monumental achievement, like a chapter had finally been closed.

  “That’s what your new boss was hoping to hear. SeaTech wants you to make those impulsive selections, Arlo, and not to be cautious because of your previous ones. You’re to fly and lead this team with the heart of a hero.” Doctor Gunner pointed to his chest right where the logo sat. “Do you understand?”

  “I get it.”

  “Terrific. Why did you give up racing when you were at your prime?” The question came out of nowhere.

  “I’d tired of winning. I’d won the races, set the record times.” I smiled, thinking that some of those records still held, despite the improved technology.

  “There’s nothing more?” Doctor Gunner asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Mr. Kelley wants to be certain you can disassociate yourself from what happened to Mr. Lewis on his trip to Proxima.” The doctor wiggled his foot up and down, staring at me with interest.

  “If Bryson wants to know if I can still race and not throw it because of some deep recessed anger at the loss of my grandfather, then tell him he has nothing to worry about. I worked through that years ago.”

  “Very good. You’ve done well… congrats.”

  Despite my initial hatred for the sessions, we’d had a real breakthrough, and I was lighter for it. “Gotcha, Doc. Does this mean…”

  “Our time is up. I think you’re wanted on the island.” Gunner smiled and clutched his tablet close as I walked away.

  “Thank you,” I told him from the exit.

  “You can thank me by winning the Race,” he said.

  Jade stood in the waiting room, and Luther walked out, his posture stiff. “Time to move on.”

  “What did you guys discuss?” I asked them.

  “I had to work through my rage issues with smug pilots,” Luther said, his tone friendly.

  Our time together had bonded us, and I could imagine Bryson pulling the puppet strings from an office and chortling.

  “I had to deal with some stuff, but she really helped, if you can believe it,” Jade relented.

  Holland was the last to join us, and I was glad he was being forced to do the same s
essions as we were. He wasn’t getting off any easier. His eyes were slightly watery, but he smiled affably. “Guess we’ve passed the first round. Dad wants us at the volcano.”

  “I don’t like the sounds of that. Which of us do you think he’s sacrificing?” I asked.

  “Definitely the kid. It’s always the innocent virgins that make the best sacrifices, right?” Luther asked, nudging Holland on the shoulder.

  “Funny, guys. The volcanoes are no longer active,” he said.

  And just like that, we’d completed a physical and therapy-filled week.

  ____________

  The Pod settled on the ground in the high altitude, and despite the fact that it was a balmy eighty-five near the beach, it was windy and chilly up here. Bryson held a Tab, and as usual, he was alone as we approached.

  “Welcome to phase two,” he told us.

  Jade braved the question: “How many phases are there?”

  “That depends on how you perform.” His response was quick. He’d anticipated being asked.

  “Where is she?” I asked. We were up so high, the clouds lingered in the distance below our position, covering most of the island of Maui from our sightlines.

  Without another word, the Racer rose from the east, pushing through the dense clouds, with Bryson controlling it with his Tab. He slid fingers and tapped icons with practiced perfection, and it arrived a minute later. The Racer was a beautiful specimen, and for a second, I felt guilty leaving Capricious behind.

  Luther whistled as it landed a hundred meters ahead. It was larger than the projection from the other night. I tried to gauge the size and estimated it was two hundred meters from nose to thrusters and maybe forty wide, twice that at the wingspan near the aft section of the ship.

  Six legs protruded from the underside: thick black metal feet that acted as the landing gear. A slender ramp lowered between them, and a robot walked in our direction. It wasn’t like the serving bots from the other night. As we crossed the brown, dust-covered landscape, I saw it was painted red and black, with the number 11 on its chest, with two white rings around the digits.

  “Team, this is R11. He’s been outfitted with our latest SeaTech innovations, and I think you’ll find him extremely capable. Say hello, R11.”

  The robot shifted on his feet. “Hello, R11.” His voice was clear, not monotone like most robots.

  “Was that a joke?” I asked him.

  “Only if someone laughs,” R11 replied, and he had me. I obliged his request, and the rest joined.

  Jade was on R11, poking and prodding with a finger. “Where’s his access hatch?”

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. It’s a fair trade,” R11 said, and Jade backed away.

  “Bryson, how did you do this?” she asked.

  R11’s head was shaped to mimic human form, instead of being faceless like the majority of bots. His eyes even shifted in sockets, his mouth opening and closing. Despite all this, he was meticulously painted to match our ship, so there would be no mistaking what he was, as per the law.

  “Can I see the blueprints? I have to know—”

  “All in good time, Jade. For now, let’s tour your new home,” Bryson suggested.

  No one had to ask me twice, and I was the first onto the ramp leading to the Racer. I bounded up the incline with more energy than I’d had in a year. The team was right behind me, and Holland stared at the cargo hold with wide eyes. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen this either,” I told him.

  “Dad was adamant that if I were to be a team member, I had to experience it with you.” Holland walked over to the black wall and used a manual lever to open a hold. Inside was the shiniest Pod Sprinter I’d ever seen. The ship’s hold was twenty feet high, and twice that in length, and I entered while Holland traced a finger over its hull. It was designed to mirror the larger Racer, and I had to admit I was humbled by this entire operation.

  “Think you can beat those Primary Pods with this, son?” Bryson asked, leaning against the doorframe.

  “If I can’t, then I don’t deserve to be CEO,” Holland said softly.

  “You guys have to see this,” Jade called.

  She was already out of the cargo room, and in the central corridor that led to the bridge. She stopped halfway down the hall, staring into the engineering room. The Core shone brightly, and I marveled at the drive’s containment box. Usually, they were shrouded in layers of protective barriers designed by Luna Corp, but this was coated with no more than clear walls.

  “What is it?” Jade rested a hand on the box. “I’ve heard the theory of using a polycarbonate and metaflex hybrid, but I didn’t think any of them could withstand the heat generated by the Core.”

  Bryson stepped beside her, hands on hips, and he nodded along. “That’s right. This is unique.”

  The engineering room was much smaller than usual, probably half that of Capricious’, and it was far cleaner, with smooth finishing, with humming machines hidden from sight. A rail of white light shone from the bottom and top of the bulkheads.

  “Where’s the bridge?” Judging by the shape of the vessel from outside, it was in the center, and just like that, we found it. I climbed a set of rungs and entered the cabin with my breath caught in my lungs.

  There was a single seat, smack dab in the middle of the glowing dash. To the right was a long screen, with thruster controls and various functional mechanisms at the tips of my fingers. I sat in the chair, looking in both directions through the curved viewer. It gave me a one-eighty picture without having to shift the cameras. The dash was comprised of three primary screens, the left filled with a radar mapping screen. The middle and right held a multitude of actions, like sensor readings, fuel consumption, and timers.

  I’d never seen something quite so wonderful.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Luther whispered as he arrived. There were four seats at the rear of the bridge, two on either side, facing their own individual screens. They were labeled with the team members’ first names, and I saw that Holland was seated next to R11. He didn’t seem to mind sharing a corner with a robot as he plopped down, touching the console to life. My spot was front and center.

  “Looks like you didn’t get a say.” Luther pointed to the pilot’s seat, and I saw the stitching in the black material.

  Hawk.

  I grinned as my fingers grazed the lettering. “Guess not.”

  “What do you think?” Bryson asked, climbing to join us with R11 at his tail.

  “I think we have a race to win,” I whispered.

  Bryson went over the details, but it was difficult to pay attention as I stared at my new office. It was by far the most advanced vessel I’d ever stepped foot on, and after seeing the sheer effort put into engineering, I suspected there were a few surprises on board. I couldn’t wait to unearth them.

  I sat in my chair again, picturing an alien world through the viewer instead of the dusty rocks atop the dormant Maui volcano. What would Proxima b bring if we gained access to it? I laughed silently at my use of the word we. I’d just mentally chided my own mother for buying in to a Corporation, and two weeks later, I was doing the exact same thing. Maybe Bryson was different, but he was probably putting on a show for us. We were outsiders. Expendables to assist him in his own goals. But there was Holland. He wouldn’t use his own kid, not unless he was an even bigger snake than the other CEOs.

  Jade poked her head into the cockpit. “You coming?”

  “You bet.”

  We toured the rest of the ship, seeing the bedrooms, each with two bunks. Luther and Holland took the first one, which left me with Jade Serrano.

  “I hope you don’t snore,” she said.

  “I don’t sleep much,” I told her.

  “Only in the middle of the day?”

  “Something like that.”

  I watched her leave the compact bunk room, and glanced at her bed. They were only ten feet apart… and she was a very attractive woman. I hoped this didn’t get a
wkward. None of us could afford distractions during the Race.

  We ended in the kitchen, and R11 showed us how to use the devices. Most of it was preprogrammed, allowing us to avoid burning our own food. A metal table sat centering the room, with benches welded into the floor all around it.

  “Is there coffee?” Luther asked, and R11 pressed an icon, changing the quantity to five. A panel slid open after a minute, and a tray extended with our drinks, revealing steaming mugs etched with our logo.

  Bryson took his and set it on the table. “Now are you glad we waited?”

  We sat down, and R11 started to walk away. “Where’s he going?” I asked.

  “R11 returns to his station in the corridor when not in use,” Bryson advised.

  “Are the other Racers on par with this?” I finally asked.

  “I should hope not. Then we don’t have the advantage. The reality is, we’re unable to see each other’s vessels until Race day. The Board will run a diagnostic—to ensure none of the craft have illegal modifications—the day prior, and anyone unable to meet specs will be disqualified, unless they can modify before the clock starts.” The CEO sipped his coffee.

  “And will number eleven pass?” It looked too fancy, too advanced to not be overly modified.

  Bryson winked. “She’ll pass.”

  “Can we fly her?” I took a drink, pleased at how strong the brew was.

  “Not today. I’d like you to explore more, and to have a night’s sleep on here first. There’s a process I’d like you to follow.”

  “What was I thinking?” I asked. The draw of returning to that cockpit and racing this bird through the sky was almost too much to ignore. “Tomorrow?” I could wait that long, if I had to.

  “That’s right. If you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend.” Bryson rose, stopping at the door while his son jogged over. They exchanged a few hushed words, and the CEO departed, leaving the team onboard.