“Hello commander, how nice to see you again. I have a few questions to ask,” he stated.
“Who are you?” Drake inquired.
“What do you know about that red key, specifically how to use it?” The man ignored Drake’s question and asked his own.
“How do you know about that key?” Drake was beginning to feel uneasy.
“I acquired it from you. Now tell me how to use it.” The man was not removing his smirk as he spoke.
“You’re talking nonsense. I haven’t figured it out anyway,” Drake said anxiously.
“That’s a shame,” he laughed, before reaching into his furs and then holding his hand out in front of him. He looked straight at Drake and continued, “Oh … I almost forgot … let’s see … what was it. Oh yeah, live always in space and time. See you later, you’re later that is.” With a twist of his wrist another dimensional door opened and he stepped through it, while waving goodbye.
Drake was stunned; it was the phrase of the fallen. How could this guy know about the key let alone the phrase? How could he have the information that Croxon was dead just an hour after it happened? What was going on? Was he to meet this guy in the future? Maybe he was another racer, but if that was the case, Drake would have surely recognized him, or his racecraft would have been reported. Was he a crazy fan with a subscription to the racing newsletter? That wouldn’t explain the phrase. The phrase had to be a complete coincidence. Then again, he himself might be going absolutely mad. One thing was for sure, that man had dimensional keys and had just used two.
Drake dispensed out a few more images, then left the box to go board his racecraft. He had to go talk to Sammy about what just occurred. Drake found Sammy instructing Armosans in the main corridor and asked him if he would come have a discussion in the consuming quarters. Sammy agreed and together they went to get a coffee.
Drake drank a cup of coffee, while recounting the story of what happened on the surface of Armos to his most trusted acquaintance. He found it difficult not to sound insane, but gave Sammy every detail.
“It’s like you said, an obsessed fan.” Sammy had some meat now and began to eat it.
“But what about the phrase?” Drake asked.
“It was probably in a recent newsletter. You know how stuff leaks out,” suggested Sammy, before dispensing out some bread. “Merely coincidence.” He confirmed Drake’s initial opinion.
If in his usual state of mind, Drake may still have been a little perturbed, but as it was, there was quite a significant amount on his mind at the time. The loss of a good crewman, and more than satisfactory companion, was beginning to weigh more heavily upon him. He still had to interrogate Uciferi, and didn’t know if he should do it before or after the memorial for his friend. What could he do to honor old Croxy? The very thought of ending it all with the traditional funeral and farewell brought back a little of the repressed rage and sorrow in his mid-section. Feeling that he owed the recently deceased, Drake came to a conclusion fairly expeditiously. He would build Croxon’s eternal resting box with his own hands. He would select the markings and inscription on the exterior, as well. Looking across the consuming module to Sammy, he also deduced that he would not be handling this emotional project on his own. Sammy was not only Drake’s friend, but was a good buddy to Croxy as well.
“I think I want to build the coffin … would you be able to assist?” Drake dispensed another cup of coffee, already knowing the answer to his question.
“There’s wood on Armos, I can gather up enough to do the job after I check up on the repairs,” Sammy hid a small smile as he continued, “I figured you want to talk to the isolated one anyway.” Sammy knew Drake better than anyone, and he did not envy the new, possibly former, crewmember.
Drake proceeded to march vehemently, carrying his cup of coffee, behind the consuming quarters to isolation chamber one. Drake and Bruvold were the only two onboard that had an entrance card to either of the chambers. He opened the cell, with a slide of the card, and began questioning Ouldsid harshly.
“How do you explain yourself, worthless waste of the Land Of Lazy?” Pointing his finger into the face of a very terrified Uciferi, who was not even quite sure why he was locked up like a common thief in the first place, Drake didn’t give him a moment to answer the irrational questioning. “Do you confess to the murder of Iriarte Croxon? Do you admit to ordering yourself to a refreshing cup of coffee during a battle for our very lives? The whole racecraft falling apart had to wait for your break? Well here, I’ve personally delivered to you a fresh cup of hot, reviving coffee!” Drake then hurled the hot coffee he had brought along at his prisoner, scalding his face, neck, and the exposed area of the hands he desperately flung up to his face in a feeble effort to protect himself.
“Are you enjoying your coffee, murdering scum? Has it given your coward stomach the courage to confess? You can sit here for the remainder of the race and consider it! I will not be lenient with this case. If you think me unfair not to hear your pathetic pleas, take it up with Croxy!” Drake furiously slammed the cell’s door, storming away from the isolation quarters before the pitiful Uciferi could make any sort of statement toward his behalf. Still baffled by this turn of events, Ouldsid crawled to the coffee cup lying on its side and, weeping distraughtly, attempted to slurp up the remains at the bottom.
Outside, in the docking and overhaul section of Armos, Sammy was watching in complete awe at the speed of which these funny little inhabitants carried out his orders for shield repair. He heard Drake approaching from the right, but could not rip his eyes away from the spectacle of service. He, Sammy, didn’t know if he was ready for what he knew Drake had come out here for. It was still difficult to get over the fact that Croxy was dead and would never again inject him with that magic in the needles. Showing weakness to Drake Judge was something that never really got away from you. Even in an understandable and extenuating circumstance, the captain would note and remember said display of weakness, and that would not bode well at all. Whatever the outcome, Sammy knew that he could not deny his friend the tribute filled privilege of constructing the time honored capsule themselves, as opposed to using a pre-manufactured model.
“So, where do we start looking?” Drake asked.
“I’ve sent a couple of the locals to find the best wood making trees and fashion eight sheets measured to my specifications. We shouldn’t have a problem slapping it together,” Sammy answered.
“Where can we build? Have you secured a private area?” It seemed to Drake that the closer they were getting to having to start this, the more likely he was to lose emotional control. He resolved in that moment not to show even the slightest sign of weakness, fear, or grief, though it was the only person he trusted. Also, he did not expect Samelak to express any of the same faults. Lack of focus and determination would keep them from what could be a much needed victory on Drake’s road to everlasting glory, and any form of failing that could cause a deviation from this road would be dealt with.
“Look around, D.J., it’s all desert, no cover. That’s why I sent these guys out to get the wood,” Sammy turned to face Drake and continued, “If you want privacy or seclusion, we could always trek out an impossible distance to follow without being seen. Or we could even ask the Armosans to transport us to a building they might spare.”
“Never mind,” Drake said with a sigh “We’ll use the rear of the ship where the launch booster will give us some cover from these insufferable suns.” With that said, Drake began moving toward his racecraft and bellowing at the four armed Armosans to clear out for the day.
Sammy watched his last friend with his special type of Sammy smile and shook his head. This would be an ordeal. He had been through a lot with this captain, but had never been in quite a poignant state of affairs as losing the other oldest member of their team to the hands of death. However, Sammy shared a differing opinion on where to place the blame of Croxy’s death than Drake. True, Uciferi was wrong in taking the coffee break at tha
t time, but there was no way that he could have somehow prevented the blood fountain of their beloved friend. No, the M.S.C. was not responsible, but Sammy could not convey this fact to Drake while considering the driver’s current mood in the matter.
Within the hour, the two companions were hard at work on their tribute to the lost healer of old. Though the launch booster did provide some cover from the planet’s three suns, the heat was still more than stifling.
The job was not as easy as Sammy had initially anticipated. Not only did they have to contend with the heat, but also it proved near to impossible to fasten this type of wood together by conventional means. Drake became infuriated, which, expectedly, agitated Sammy and caused him to lose concentration and, on one occasion, bash his own hand with one of the tools borrowed from the Armosan craftsmen. They toiled laboriously for two hours before Sammy finally came up with a solution to the connecting problem.
Carving several notches at conflicting junctures in each slab of wood, he measured using his eyes, with precision at least equal to any measuring device, so that when integrated together, the notches had to be forced into a snug fit.
When all the hard work of putting the casket together was complete, Drake began inscribing an epitaph on the cover of this personal token of respect. Never before had a captain built with his own hands, the sarcophagus of a dead team member, let alone include an epitaph to be displayed on the outside. What Drake had done was unprecedented in all of racing history. The inscription was a farewell, it read:
HERE LIES OLD CROXY
BEST MEDICAL OPERATOR I EVER KNEW
SO IT IS WITH YOUR BODY
YOUR DREAMS DRIFT FOREVER
NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN
Instantaneously after finishing, Drake stood and headed back to the loading zone without one glance back to Sammy or what they had just created. The horrible abomination of reality had settled over Drake and he did not feel he could carry the casket inside. He would send Bruvold out to help with that unthinkable chore of putting the body to rest and preparing it for final remembrance. Sammy broke the moment the hatch closed behind Drake. Uncontrollably, he wept in giant, hoarse, and gasping sobs. No one was around to see or hear him and he had every intention of taking full advantage of the time alone to vent some of his own rage and grief. Barely two minutes had gone by when he began to pull himself out of the blissful remorse process and regain composure.
Just then, Bruvold emerged from the racecraft and heartily greeted Sammy. “Captain is telling me to go with Sammy. I say is good. Sammy is real man … not for wearing dresses … is good for fighting and is strong, no weak.”
“Yeah … look, just take that end, and I’ll lead the way,” Sammy said, dismissing Bruvold’s boldness with a shrug.
In his personal quarters, Drake Judge prepared the eulogy speech he would give before uttering the dreaded phrase which would trigger the release of one that he loved into outer space to coast along aimlessly. When he vacated the quarters he still had not finished, but planned to speak the rest as it came to him. Old Croxy had always been straight with him.
Upon his entrance to the navigational command center, Drake ordered everyone to their positions to prepare for launch. He had previously had a gift of thanks made up of spare parts and various different other worldly items for the Armosans and had sent this out. The funeral would have to be quick so as to not lose any time, and this burned Drake even more, but nevertheless, he ordered Freddie to engage engines and launch booster, and Sammy to employ shields as he began preparations to navigate them toward the proper coordinates.
The funeral service was held in the recreational quarters where there was a great space of the wall made of transparent alloy that would permit them to watch the primary jettison into eternity. This would prove to be the most heart-breaking, soul wrenching experience of the current journey for all who were present. Drake entered the room and all fell silent. The coffin containing the body of Iriarte Croxon was in the ejection chamber.
“We are here to mourn the passing of an exceptional crew member and an amazing doctor who could cure anything with a shot.” Drake began. “Croxy was more valuable to me and this team than most of you here combined. Its death will not be for nothing. We will use this as a springboard to our victory.” He reached down to press the button that would forever remove his most trusted physician from his life. Nobody witnessed the single tear that became visible as it slowly trickled out from under Drake’s famous holochart gazers, and splashed onto the floor of the recreation quarters.
“Live always in space and time.” The mourning race captain stated clearly, and with pure respect, in the manner it was written in which to be spoken.
The crew watched silently as Croxon floated out of view. Bruvold then walked over to a cabinet and pulled out some more of his dark, smoking beverage.
“Is good time to drink when there is friend dying,” he said while passing out the infusion. Most of the crew turned it down, but Drake, Kraus, and Sammy each took Bruvold’s offering.
“To old Croxy.” The four of them said as a toast. They all polished off the substance in one long guzzle.
“Is good, yes? Is good for warming of the face.” Bruvold smiled proudly as he poured four more glasses for a second round. “Is good for race. Bruvold is knowing.” He said this last with his brow furrowed and his finger in the air as if making a profound point.
It didn’t take long for Bruvold’s home planet cocktail to take effect on those who had ingested it and soon, the four were choosing sides for a partnered round of friendly sparring. This meant that they were drunk and wanted to beat each other senseless, using nothing but brute strength and sheer power of will, until all of them could hardly move to get back to their personal quarters to sleep it off.
CHAPTER FIVE
Fresh Start
Upon waking, Drake was suffering a tremendous headache and nausea so badly that he did not know if the cleansing quarters would be close enough. For a split second, he caught himself thinking about going to medical and getting a shot to relieve him of this distress, but was now sure that the current M.O. would not allow such a procedure. Luck, it seemed, was turning for Drake this particular morning for when he turned to the door, he saw lying beside it Croxy’s old medical case. Someone had delivered this while he was passed out. He wondered who it was that could have put it inside his door. There was sure to be a cure inside the case. Drake did not pretend that he knew what was in these syringes or what they did respectively, but he had been injected by his healer for many years and had a good idea of which colors he needed to make himself feel better. If he failed and made his condition worse, he would insist that Priscilla give him treatment without unnecessary explanation.
He picked up a blue and a red needle and shot them both simultaneously into his hips. The familiarity of the small, high-pitched hiss filled his ears like a forgotten symphony. A deep moan of relief escaped as the remedies washed through him. He now felt fully prepared to take the helm and get this thing moving fast again.
Drake vacated his quarters into the navigation center and ordered the engines to full power. He strapped himself in his comfy chair and started to think about Folders and how he had pulled the number twenty-six racecraft out of the low position it was in. Drake wanted a fresh start, too and decided to follow Folders lead with the time disrupter. Before he could put this idea into action, Jaws reported an incoming visual contact message from league officials. It was another update on their current position and would likely make Drake even more prone to using another of his special tricks.
“The message says we are currently in eleventh place, so I’ve been thinking maybe we should use one of our time disrupters. What do you think, Kraus?” Drake was going to go through with the time disruption whether Kraus thought it was ok or not.
“Sounds like a plan, boss, just need to cut power to main thrusters, and give me some time,” Kraus answered. Both men knew that in order for the time disrupters to be effec
tive, all engines must be stopped and then came the risky part of the equation. They didn’t have a clue as to what would be occupying this space in the past. They could end up right in the middle of a craft war for all they knew. The disrupter will help them gain position by doing two separate parts of race during the same time period. Their past vessel would be doing whatever they were around thirty days ago, while their current ship would be able to proceed from this point in space in the same time period. This would essentially skip thirty days of the race. Once the past ship caught up with the point in time and space where the time disrupter was used, their current ship would no longer be in that thirty day time period and thus be farther in the race.
Drake held faith in his ability to dodge most obstacles that may be placed in his way, but as always with a disrupter, a lot was left to chance. He hoped this trick would improve his place to at least the top five. He turned to face each of his crew in turn, and ordered the activation.
A powerful jerking and whirling overtook the entire racecraft and anything that was not firmly held in place was thrown about the interior, leaving jumbles of indiscernible garbage. A sense of dizziness and disorientation slammed the number thirteen team as they were pulled through the rip in time itself.
The actual traveling through time didn’t take as long as it seemed, for the jerking continued long after the time skip was over. Asteroids were pummeling the shields and thrusters. They had landed directly in an asteroid storm. Drake casually moved his controls in an effort to find a somewhat clear path, to absorb minimal damage.
The Full Circle Six Page 6