A long, satisfying sigh erupted from Drake as he stepped into the chamber, relishing the moment when the heated suds blasted his pores. He began to think about the Full Circle Six, while still keeping an eye on his possessions. So many qualified racers never returned, including his great grandfather, the legendary J. W. Judge. He wasn’t so much worried about himself or his other four comrades sitting in the recreational room, but for the six new members that Future Fuels had bought out. Ten members for the better part of two years together, trusting each other with their very lives.
Drake had become accustomed to running five-member team races, and he wasn’t convinced one of the newcomers wouldn’t be a sabotage artist. Knowing the importance of every position and operation of each team member, Drake wanted experienced crew, and not recruits fresh from training. He had hoped to be able to hire his own racecraft Security Officer, as he had requested this at the contract signing, on the page that dealt with long endurance events. If anyone of the new six does anything out of the ordinary, Drake would not hesitate to eliminate them one way or the other.
After the suds process, the rinse phase began and finished in its always efficient manner. The heat jets were next and instantly warmed Drake to his most appropriate temperature. He never bothered to comb his hair; he just threw his denim cap back on his head, and proceeded to retrieve the same articles from the cartridges, to put them back on.
Bringing along the keys, and slipping the gazers back over his penetrating eyes, Drake headed for his personal quarters. Located in an adjacent corridor to the navigation deck, these quarters were not only the largest, and most accessible, it was also the most comfortable, private, and secure quarters in the racecraft. Here, Drake would be able to inspect every key in detail and try to discern their respective purposes without distraction. Also, it would appear to his crew that he would be napping.
Drake placed the long, slender case, with encryptions he didn’t recognize, upon his resting module and opened it. He observed ten keys in all, but one of them was disturbingly different. The very last key from left to right in the case was brilliantly red, while the others were the ordinary gold. All of the golden keys he observed had the same number three encrypted in the very center. The red key had a door carved into it at the top center and a tiny imprint of the number one hundred one at the bottom center. Drake had never seen a key like this before. Most keys he knew about served as some sort of instant planetary jump from surface to surface, as he was sure these gold keys did. Once you use the key, it vanishes and in its place is a doorway of light or dark you cannot see past. You can enter this doorway and instantly be somewhere within any dimension inscribed on the key, but Drake never learned how to tell specifically in the dimension where the door would send you, or how to get back. The dimension, after all, had not even been fully discovered as far as Drake was aware. He decided to try and use the red key just to see what it does; his curiosity burned him like the fire color of the key. Drake picked up the key, drew in a deep breath, and turned it in midair directly in front of him. Nothing happened. He thought for a bit, and deduced that the red key either was a fake of some sort, or it just had to be turned in the appropriate position or coordinates. He placed the key back in the long, slender case, and shoved it back into his inner pocket.
Drake then, with a flick of his index finger, triggered his holochart gazers, and set them so he could study current charts. While he races, this feature is almost always left on. The next race crept into his mind again. The newcomers would be arriving within the week.
The week after that, it begins. Drake did not sleep as planned. He merely stood arms crossed staring through his gazers, trying in his head to map the most suitable course.
CHAPTER TWO
Fresh Meat
Around twelve hours later, Drake switched his gazers back to intercept chart mode, and forced himself to the consuming quarters for some nourishment. When he arrived there, he noticed Kraus was having a cup of coffee, and joined him at once. Drake ordered bread, meat, and coffee from the delivery dispenser tubes, with a couple of button punches, and began corresponding with Kraus as he seated himself.
“Are you prepared for the big one, double k?” Drake began devouring his bread and meat after asking this question.
“I am prepared, as much as one could expect to be.” Kraus knew his weapons instruments, and he was always exceptional in hand-to-hand combat. Kraus was a physical specimen at six feet two inches, two hundred and twenty five pounds. He had no hair detectable with hazel, catlike eyes and a sort of distorted face.
“What do you got for me this time?” Drake was referring to any special weapons that might be useful during their upcoming race. Kraus always had something up his sleeve. Drake took a long drawl of coffee and listened intently to Kraus’s response.
“Well, I do have one fully charged time disrupter. It’s capable for forward or reverse … maybe a total of thirty days.” Kraus gave hand gestures while talking, trying to demonstrate. After looking slightly confused with himself, Kraus continued.
“I got some external shield protection again.” Kraus continued to eat his food steadily as he spoke. Drake knew that external shield protection meant a shield energy de-stabilizer, within the third and last layer of shields. This can come in useful with sparring racecrafts that get in Drake’s way. It works by moving outward from the outer layer of shield, thus not affecting their equipment.
“That’s good stuff, double k let’s just make sure you know how to operate it.” Drake stared hard at Kraus after he said it, as if challenging him to argue his qualifications.
“I believe I’ll manage.” Was all Kraus said before leaving Drake to finish his meal alone. There was obviously still a little tension between the two from the last race.
“Drake Judge! It’s time to wake up from your nap, there’s a highly anticipated message waiting for you on the navigation deck.” Freddie’s anything but masculine voice rang throughout the transport. Drake immediately made haste to the navigation deck to receive his message eagerly, leaving the remains of his vittles behind.
Once on the navigation deck, Drake leaned over the racecraft’s message display unit and opened his message. It read as follows.
N.C.P.O. Navigation Command Post Operator Drake Judge
L.S.S.O. Life Support Systems Operator Iriarte Croxon
Secondary position medical assistant
M.O Medicine Operator Priscilla Youest
S.S.T. Shield And Ship Technician Samelek Riordin
W.O. Weapons Operater Kraus Klatzki
E.F.O. Engine And Fuels Operator Frederick Stallworth
C.E. Communications Expert Zarocostas Jozwiak
F.B.R. Food And Beverage Regulator Juhaen
M.S.C. Maintenance and Sanitation Control Ouldsid Uciferi
C.S.O. Racecraft Security Officer Bruvold Aristando
Drake did not recognize any of the new names on the list. He called everyone to the navigation room, using the racecraft intercom, to inquire if they knew some of the fresh meat. There were not too many league appointed staff, so it was a good possibility one of his own might know a name or two. Drake turned to Freddie, who was already looking at the list over his shoulder.
“Recognize anyone?” Drake wasn’t hopeful, knowing whom he was talking to.
“Looks like a bunch of alien names to me, cap.” Freddie responded. “Probably not as pretty as I am, though.” Tossing a wink at Drake, he turned aside so that Kraus, who was standing directly behind, could look at the list.
“Well, well, I don’t believe it.” Kraus’s face matched his shocked tone almost comically. “Bruvold Aristando … This man was with me in the academy. We were also stationed together in our first event.”
“Is he good?” Drake would not tolerate incompetence.
“Oh he can handle himself alright … Knows a lot about weapons, too. That was his first job.” Kraus was recalling early days of team combat, his favorite pastime.
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��Good.” Drake smirked as he began to think of the possibilities. “Maybe he’ll add a little something to the mix.” The current weapons operator couldn’t keep back a chuckle, as his captain made this last comment.
Sammy stepped forward to look as well, while Croxy stayed by its station. He seemed to stare fixedly at the list of new members for some time before he spoke up. He looked for a moment, as if he would say something revealing of his thoughts, but all he said was …
“Hmm … we might have to be careful with the fresh meat … looks like Uciferi might be related to the devil.” This caused Freddie to erupt in shrieking gales of laughter until he was on the deck, holding his sides with his arms crossed.
Drake shrugged it off as a lost cause. “We’ll just have to wait till they get here. We have one week to prepare … I don’t want to see anyone slouching. From here until we win this race, it’s one hundred percent.” Drake gave his crew a meaningful look and said, “Dismissed.”
Over the next few days two members arrived. The first was Juhaen. Juhaen’s duties were consistent with that of a food service vendor, his main job being to refill the delivery dispenser tubes. He only gave the one name, and wanted it pronounced as huwon. The other to arrive was Kraus’s long lost friend. When Bruvold arrived the two were seen together everywhere, discussing weapons strategies, and swapping stories of past.
By the end of the week, sure enough, all members had arrived with the exception of one Zarocostos Jozwiak. Drake Judge got irritated at any underperformance, which included tardiness. To pass time, Drake interviewed the new recruits. He discerned that Priscilla was a capable doctor, although he preferred Croxy, and Uceferi was not related to the devil. Ouldsid’s duties consisted mainly of custodial work, but he also was sort of a repairman. Drake also entertained himself by watching Kraus and Bruvold argue until blows, only to make up and drink heavily.
Four days before the Full Circle Six, the communications expert finally joined up with the rest of the crew. Drake met up with him almost as soon as he entered the racecraft.
“What do you mean by letting my crew fall behind, you late scum?” Drake screamed, with his chin up and out, and one finger pointed at the bridge of a very large nose.
“Sir,” The elaborately big nosed creature, weighing no more than one hundred fifty pounds, was shaking. “I only just finished my last assignment three hours ago.” He finished weakly, but did not bend his head down. This little show of courage impressed Drake.
“I should fire you right now,” Drake scowled at him. “But I don’t have time to find a replacement, I’m going to call you … Jaws.”
“Yes ssir, th thank you sir, II…”
“You call yourself a communications expert?” Drake interrupted, still looking at him, only with disgust now. He was beginning to wonder where the league found this ‘expert’ when Jaws spoke again.
“This is not my primary tongue, sir. There are at least sixty more languages I can speak better, it’s just you frightened me a bit.”
“For your sake, you should hope so.” Drake said as he turned to the navigation room’s intercom microphone. He then called all members back for a complete systems and inventory check. After making sure that all systems checked out, and that everyone had met, Drake dismissed the members to their quarters so that he could evaluate them on his own.
Late the next day, another message contact sent the members into mad fits. The message was from Future Fuels, and it regarded the position the number thirteen transport racecraft would start the Full Circle Six.
“This is an outrage … How dare they!” Drake was the most furious of all. “In all my years I’ve never started dead last! Twentieth Position! To work, all of you! Right now!” Instantly, the whole crew scattered to various other places in the racecraft, most as far away as possible from the navigation deck.
Kraus and Bruvold began working together, making improvements where they could with the weapons and shields. This last part they did with the help of Sammy, who wouldn’t let anyone anywhere near the shield control panel, without his supervision. Kraus and Bruvold were fighting less, as a result of Drake easing up on Kraus and focusing more on the big nosed Jaws, who Drake had deemed worthless from the start. It also turned out that Bruvold had brought along his own weapons to add to the ever more powerful racecraft. These included two more priceless time disrupters, making it possible to skip a period of roughly ninety days either forward or backward through space and time.
With one day left before the start of the race, it was time for team physicals. Everyone was mentally and physically healthy, with the exception of Drake, who was beyond fit. There was an incident involving Freddie and the new medical operator, however. The entire deck could hear Freddie as he sang at his appointment with Priscilla. He sang about himself and how adorable he was right up to the point when he opened the door, with a dramatic finish to his song.
“I am sir Frederick Stallworth, at your service.” He kind of sang as he gave a bow without breaking eye contact with Priscilla. “I am quite sure you have heard of me?” he questioned in almost a statement.
The medical operator was not unfamiliar to unwanted advances, but had never met anyone quite so stuck on himself as this specimen. As professionally as she could muster, she more ordered than suggested that he have a seat to begin the examination.
“In that case, I’m sure you will be, wanting me to remove my robes.” Freddie crooned as he began to sweep his robes up.
“That will not be necessary!” With a quick scan of the body, the instrument in Pricilla’s hand gave a series of beeps. “You are dismissed, S.S.T.” She finished in a flat, emotionless voice. This did not seem to have much effect on Freddie, who considered himself to be irresistible to the female species as a whole.
“Please, please, my lovely, you may address me as Freddie or Sir Frederick.” As Freddie said this, he slowly raised his arms as if to embrace Pricilla. Quickly, she pressed a button directly in front of her, and called Bruvold to the examination quarters.
Still, Freddie was not deterred. “Before Bruvold gets here, I’ve decided to give you the honor of having dinner with me in my personal quarters. I have not missed the fact that your beauty is second only to mine.” At this point, Bruvold seized Freddie by the shoulder and began to roughly escort him out of the medical quarters. Priscilla declared that from this point on, Iriarte would have to be present during examinations with Freddie.
The stage was being set for the Full Circle Six, and Drake used the time up to the start of the race to write a new speech for the first time in years. Once it was complete, he called the last meeting before the racecraft had to be positioned in its proper coordinates. He required that all members, no matter how useless he thought them to be, to show up.
“Thank you all, please have a seat. I require myself to say something to you.” Drake waited patiently for the crew to nervously seat themselves, some not being able to decide on a proper seat.
“As everyone here undoubtedly knows … the Full Circle Six race is the longest, most brutal, and the deadliest event we will ever compete in … I would not have asked anyone to participate with me, but it just so happens that in order for us to get a championship, we must win this race … The league requires all teams to start the race with ten members. However, they DO NOT require that any team finishes with ten., so obey my commands at all times without fail. Any attempt at disobeying a direct order will result in the discipline I see fit to administer at the time … Any disruption will be treated accordingly … Each of you is vital to the team for the endurance factor of this race. All members must maintain regular mental check-ups with the medical operator every two weeks … I will review the results of all tests … The use of racecraft equipment or weapons will be only as a result of my direct order or my given authority … Everyone is to remain at their stations until ordered to their quarters for the day. Once your duty has ended, you may do as you please … The racecraft will be running around the clock, so th
ere will always be crew-working stations. This means many of you will have to work double or maybe even triple jobs … I expect victory foremost! … If you do not know a job, I expect you to find someone to train you in that field … There will be a minimum of six planetary stops … Jaws and I will immediately begin researching planets that could be deemed most useful for these stops … The last time this race was held, the winner made eleven planetary stops. I estimate that we can cut at least three of those stops out if we choose the right planets. So do not disappoint me, Jaws … I will promise that if we win, along with the prize money you already are rewarded, I will share the special bonus prize to all who survive with me … While I am on the subject, I received a package of keys as a prize in the last race … Does anyone know or have ever heard of a red key?” Drake had not written this question in his speech, but found himself asking them all while they were together, and the talk of prizes triggered it back into memory. He vaguely wondered why he had not asked them before.
“Sir, I believe you refer to the demon key for the last dimension.” Juhaen looked at Drake with his eyes wide open. “It is referred to as the legend of crystal, only part known and sacred in some lands. I first heard it from a drunken wino in a vestibule of his stench, back when I served drinks. Others have mentioned it in passing.”
“I doubt that could be considered viable.” Drake sniffed in impatience. “Does anyone else have any ideas that don’t refer to devils and drunks?”
“Well, why don’t you just turn it and see what happens, maybe you’ll find another one some day.” Sammy suggested.
“I’ve already tried that. Never mind, it is really of no concern. The only concern we should have is winning the race. I want everyone in position in one hour to begin launch to our proper coordinates.” Drake dismissed his members to go give their farewells to anyone they might know staying behind. He himself would sit at the helm of his navigation command center and wait, with his holochart gazers turned in the viewing position. He also had a fleeting thought about which planets might have turned out being the best for stopping. The usual calm settled over Drake, as the familiar groove of his personal chair and controls unfurled around him to fit to his style perfectly. During this stage, the racer felt and thought nothing but victory. Completely in his element, he was doing what he does best, and mapping out the course through the gazers. Nothing could disrupt him at the moment. He was ready to strike out and he believed he had a strategy that would advance him a position close to the start of the race.
The Full Circle Six Page 2