Shackleton's Folly (The Lost Wonder Book 1)

by Yunker, Todd

  O took Alec’s wrist bracer from Electra’s arm and ran a hand over the forearm. “I think I have one her size, more feminine in design, too. It will look more like jewelry.” She said to Electra, “You will be happier with the one I have for you. This one is so heavy and cumbersome.” O tossed it to Alec. He put it on.

  Alec reminded her, “O, you said you had my order?”

  O nodded. “A delivery has come in for you.” O opened the cupboard on the back wall and pulled a large box of green, glassified remains. Alec reached in and turned a few so that the nameplates were visible.

  “They were believers in your father,” said O, solemnly. “To entrust your mortal remains to you says much.”

  “Not all ridiculed my father; not all lost hope in him and what he promised. Humans are a funny race, O. Even when all seems lost, we can still wrap ourselves in hope.” Alec’s serious tone cracked a little. “Thank you. I will take them with me. Where is the inscription piece?” Alec cleared his throat.

  O pulled out a keyboard, entered an access code, and typed in a database search. She keyed in a few more commands. O looked at the screen again and then went into the back of the shop. Alec nodded affirmingly to Electra. The boom of a box falling to the floor came from the back room, followed by some choice alien curses. O emerged with a large, odd-shaped box and put it on the counter next to her keyboard. The box was big enough and could easily hold the inscription piece they had.

  O stated, matter-of-factly, “Yes — you have the credits?”

  Alec said, “I want to see it first.”

  O shook her head. “Not until I see your account. You see, I have overhead, labor, bribes, and taxes to cover. I need cash — 200,000 credits — not a promise.”

  Alec sputtered, “Are you crazy? That wasn’t our agreement. I don’t have nearly enough.” He looked to Electra and back to O.

  O made it very clear, “It’s a seller’s market, Alec. How are you humans doing lately?” She eyed the box in front of her, tracing the edge with her hand. “Seems to me, if this could save your race, I’d say that would be priceless. Of course, you could do me a favor and work off this obligation.”

  O drew the keyboard closer and typed in a command, and an application appeared for Nowhere Downs onscreen. She keyed in her username and password. Then she selected her entry for today’s race. Another keystroke added the name of the rower. She entered “Alec Shackleton.”

  “What do you want?” Alec demanded.

  “Well, I could use your athletic skills.” She smiled back at him and logged out of the application.

  Alec said, “Out with it.” He tapped his finger on the counter top.

  O grinned. “Today is race day. I need you to fly your old colors.”

  Alec shook his head. “I’m done. My racing days are behind me.”

  O spoke loudly and slowly so as to make sure he understood that he had little choice in the matter. “You will be my substitute rower, unlimited class, this afternoon. You could earn enough to purchase the inscription, and I’ll throw in the staff weapon for free.” She looked from him to Electra. “What do you say? I make a killing, and you get what you really want.”

  Alec said, “Eights, fours, pairs, or sculls?”

  O said with a tone of delight, “Sculls — the odds are so much greater when so many don’t finish. Your shell will be waiting for you in the same place as last time.”

  “I feel so used,” he said as he stood there. He tapped his commlink. “Dancer, I need my rowing gear from the Quest. Could you bring me my bag from the ship? It’s race day. Meet us down at the docks.”

  Alec tapped his commlink again. “You happy now?”

  “I will be when you win.” O keyed in more, waited, and then started to place bets on her entry. “I must not make them too big, or someone will be suspicious. Dock seven, slot seven.”

  “We will be going then,” said Alec, exasperated. He reached for Electra’s hand. Electra took his hand, and Alec led them through the maze out to the front door. The noise of the world outside the shop burst upon them again as they left the shop. Alec looked for a taxi as they walked toward downtown, but they were either too far away or already had passengers. They walked in silence by unspoken agreement. Alec finally managed to flag down a taxi, and they jumped in. “Nowhere Downs,” said Alec to the taxi’s request of destination. Electra’s hand sought his again. Alec took her hand and squeezed gently.

  “What is ‘Nowhere Downs’?” asked Electra.

  “It is a race course. A lot of betting goes on, and, at times, small fortunes are made. It all can be seen right there.” Alec pointed in the direction of the wall with the video screen.

  “You have obviously done this before for O. How will she make any money placing bets?” Electra watched the buildings go by as they passed.

  “I have raced for her before. The last time O rigged my shell, and I was dead last. She didn’t tell me about it until after the race.” Alec thought about it. “I didn’t sandbag it, and I wouldn’t have done so if she had asked — she knew that. It will only work once.” He looked up at the race course. “If I lose, we are without the inscription piece and can’t move forward.” He turned toward her and looked more determined and confident than ever. “If I win, we get the third piece of the inscription.

  Alec opened his hand, fingers wide. Electra did the same and interlaced their fingers, again closing them around his. Alec responded in kind. Their hands intertwined, the couple enjoyed the ride in silence; the sparkle of the strip enveloped them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The taxi arrived at their destination, Nowhere Downs, and slowed to a stop at the curb. Alec did not want to let go of Electra’s hand, but it was impractical not to while they were getting out of the taxi. It had been a closeness he had yearned for all his life, amongst the stars, searching for the world his father had promised him. Alec had to believe that this was all worth the time and energy he had devoted to his belief that his father was right. He had faith in his father’s theory. The warmth of the hand he held was a sign; he had to be nearing the end of this pilgrimage. The taxi requested a destination. Alec let go his grip on Electra and stepped out of the taxi. The spell of the moment broken, he surveyed the area as Electra exited the taxi. He gestured toward the entrance with “Boathouse” emblazoned over the archway. “This way.” They made their way through the pedestrians to the entrance of the boathouse.

  The corridor they entered had signage indicating which direction they should head. Alec took them to the right. The boathouse was busy with athletes, coaches, and teams readying themselves for the races. Bags and participants moved swiftly, almost as one. Electra kept up with Alec as they came out into one of the many equipment-preparation areas.

  The nearly flat floor was fused, leveled, and polished by equipment the mining operation had left behind. They had used it to cut and build living space in the rock spaces that were devoid of valuable ore. The room’s floor was filled with teams working on oars needing alignment and racing shells. The long, sleek craft lay on stretchers about a meter off the floor. Some worked on the seats and slide rails; others worked on the oar locks and rigging to make sure everything was lubricated and ready for the race.

  Alec looked around for Dancer, but he had not arrived yet. Electra watched as the other teams, competitors, made their preparations and asked, “These craft you race — they are for the water?”

  Dancer came into view from the corridor, and Alec waved him over. Dancer carried his sports bag, over his shoulder, and his oar case. He whipped off the bag and handed it to Alec. Dancer stood and leaned the oar case against the wall. Alec looked for somewhere to change, but there wasn’t a changing room. He made his way over to a semicircular impression in the wall and tossed his bag down. Alec unzipped the bag, pulling shirt, shorts, shoes, and socks from it. He thought about it and grabbed a medium-sized towel from the bottom of the bag. “They don’t make provisions for changing here. Dancer, can you help me with thi
s?” He was about to hand the towel to Dancer.

  “Look, if this is for me, don’t — just get changed,” Electra said and turned away from him.

  Alec shrugged. “Okay — you and Dancer will be my support crew,” he said and took off his shirt. His upper body was well-toned and sculpted by years of rowing. Alec removed his shoes and socks, and dropped his pants.

  “What will we be doing for support?” she casually turned back to him. Alec was completely naked, reaching for his shorts. She felt the blush return to her cheeks, and she snuck a glimpse. He was definitely a man — and one who had kept himself fit. Electra ran imaginary fingers across his abs, playing with the ripples she saw there.

  Alec pulled on his shorts and then grabbed his shirt. “It shouldn’t be much. I am usually pretty good about staying out of accidents.” He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped to the floor to put on his socks and shoes.

  Electra stood looking down on Alec. “I have taken field medicine as part of my training. Do you have a kit of some kind?” She held out a hand for him to grab and helped pull him up. Dancer took a belt from his back compartment and handed it to Electra. She opened it and combed through it to see what it included. “Very good — anything else I need to know?”

  Alec and Dancer looked at one another. “The race has few rules other than how to win. Depending on the competitors, there have been shootings in the past,” said Dancer.

  “You’re joking,” came her reply.

  “I am not,” said Dancer.

  Alec turned, pulling up his shirt so she could see his lower back, and there was a patch of what could be described only as scar tissue from an energy weapon. “I was almost out of range when I was hit.”

  “This is crazy; you cannot do this on your own.”

  “Electra, I am it. We need the inscription piece O has for me,” said Alec. “Besides, I have been doing this for a long time. I’m not going to get hurt now.”

  She stepped close and put her hand on his shoulder at the base of his neck, pulling him closer so she could whisper in his ear. “You had better not.” She let him go and walked a few steps away from him. “Where to?”

  “Come with us, and I’ll show you.” Alec stuffed the last of his clothes into the bag and put it over his shoulder. They left the prep area. Alec said to Dancer, “O said my ride would be on the dock. We’ll see what it looks like.”

  Dancer picked up the oar case, and the three left together.

  *

  They followed the corridor, which turned into a lower-ceilinged tunnel with a more rectangular profile, much wider than high. Warning panels blinked messages in languages unknown to Electra. Blue and red flashing lights stopped the group ahead of them in the tunnel; their crews were putting their feet in trays on the floor near the wall. Alec said, “We are entering a Non-Regulated Gravity Zone — and there is low gravity ahead.” He went over to one of the trays and, one foot at a time, stepped into the oozing material filling the bottom of the tray. “Come on. It’s temporary shoe goo that will keep you from floating off the ground.” Dancer had completed the process with his front legs and was working to get his back hooves. Electra followed the procedure and continued with Alec and Dancer.

  The temporary low gravity boot material made their familiar squeaky sticky sound as they plodded along the tunnel. It returned them to the cavern approximately a kilometer and a half from the end, at a height of a hundred meters from the floor opposite the video wall. The artificial gravity did not extend this high, so the dock structures were easily cut from the wall. The area was hollowed out from the natural rock, and the dock area extended out into the open twenty meters. The side of the dock open to the cavern had slots cut into them for the boat launcher. The mechanism visible to those using the system was a structure similar to a crab’s claw, which, when opened, allowed the racing shell to be deposited into it; it sensed the user’s needs, resizing itself as it closed firmly around each end of the shell.

  Alec looked for slot seven. They walked by an eight-rower crew, two four-rower boats, and a scull before he spotted slot seven. The launcher’s claw of slot seven was retracted with a single-rower flying scull. The boat itself was similar to the Earthly versions, with the addition of oars ending in fan-like bowls, the tail section of a plane, and short, stubby wings in the bow. The shell looked battered and ready for the scrap heap, but, on closer inspection, what looked like worn-out or corroded components were actually high-end units given the patina of faux damage. It was a high-end racer made to look like it was ready to fall apart. Alec put his bag down next to the shell. Electra inspected the lightweight shell frame, wondering how such a craft would hold up. She watched as the boat in the next dock readied for launch.

  The 30-meter-long, flawless eight-rower boat was held tight in the dock’s claws, the crew and coxswain all in their seats. The oar fans moved slowly as the crew pulled and pushed the handles back and forth. The launcher pushed the boat up and out into the cavern at a 45-degree angle. As it neared the extent of its reach, the claws opened wide, giving the boat upward as well as outward momentum. The coxswain called out across the boat’s audio system for attention from the crew. They went to their rowing starting positions and waited for the command to start rowing. The boat was now too far away for Alec’s group to hear the coxswain; the crew started rowing, taking them down cavern.

  There were a few boats on the course warming up. The course cameras zoomed in on the boats and crews. The video screen across the cavern filled with team and crewmember profiles and statistics. A group of alien sports announcers sat around a desk and made commentary about the crews and rowers being profiled. Previous race highlights were shown; with graphic overlays, course obstacles and crash hazards were shown.

  Dancer put down the oar case and scanned the shell’s flight controls and seat sliding system, “This will be interesting.”

  Alec reached inside the boat and tested the support structure with more than a few good tugs. Alec said, “Seems solid enough.” He inspected every element from bow to stern. Alec freed one foot and then the other from the floor, flipping himself into the shell. Alec slipped his feet into the foot stretchers and pulled the straps tight. He found the seat belt ends, latched it over his lap, and pulled the end, tightening it and securing himself to the seat. Alec tested the seat and track by pushing and pulling himself along it with his legs. The super magnets kept the back-and-forth action of the seat along the track frictionless.

  Dancer handed Alec a clip-on communicator. “We are using an encrypted sub-space channel, so we won’t have a party line. Don’t want the neighbors listening in to us.” Dancer switched his unit on. “Testing, testing.”

  Alec heard Dancer clearly through his earpiece. “Got it.”

  Electra looked apprehensively at the sculling shell. The boat had “Piece of Pie” in Standard painted on it.

  Electra asked, “Is it safe? It looks so fragile that it would fall to pieces with one good hit.” Electra considered the alternatives. Alec obviously knew what he was doing here. She watched the boats leave the dock, and, from what she could see, there wasn’t a lot of danger from the boats themselves.

  Alec smiled reassuringly. “I certainly hope so.” Alec checked the seat and track by sliding back and forth a second time. Dancer held out a small energy weapon to Alec.

  “No, not this time,” he shook his head. “If I just focus on the race, I’ll be okay,” Alec said.

  “You said that last time, and, after the race, I had to rebuild your ear,” reminded Dancer.

  Electra’s attention flew to Alec’s ear. She brushed back his hair, and, sure enough, it showed very subtle scarring. It had not been apparent before, but, now that it had been pointed out to her, she felt she should have seen it before.

  Dancer tossed Alec a small toolkit with some replacement parts. Alec stowed it away, strapping the flat box to the forward hull. Alec replied, “Yes, yes you told me so, but what’s a burnt ear among friends?”

&
nbsp; Electra’s concern could be seen on her face.

  “It’s going to be fine, and we’ll be getting the next piece of the inscription,” he said, smiling confidently.

  Electra’s hand went unconsciously to the knot of the headscarf, and she knew what she needed to do. She removed it from her head. She went to him and reached up with the knotted scarf to put it over his head. Electra did so but used the scarf now around his neck to bring him down to her. Electra kissed him fully, deeply, on the lips. Alec, strapped in, was afforded little leverage to take her in his arms. Electra stepped back. “Good luck.”

  Dancer touched a control button near the claw structure. The launcher’s claw mechanism released its hold on the shell as it extended itself up and outward to float free. Alec started a slow rowing motion, but his mind was elsewhere.

  Alec checked and adjusted the positions of the rearview mirrors on the gunnel rails on either side of the shell. They were a bit of a throwback technology Alec liked to use. He liked their simplicity, which meant they were less likely to fail — unlike the camera systems other rowers used.

  The stroke Alec produced was a little rough at first, but it quickly evened out. Alec made it to the end of the racecourse and banked in a wide arc, ending with the shell facing down the racecourse set through the center of the cavern.

  Alec readied himself in the starting position for his only race. The six large, bright-orange markers were placed at differing heights behind him, with each becoming progressively smaller.

  He meditated upon the moment, clearing his head. Alec could still smell Electra’s perfume — if that were even possible. He adjusted the scarf so the knot was behind his neck. Alec took a breath — there it was again. He put the scarf to his face and inhaled deeply. It was her. She would be with him during the race. It was like the knights of old before the Tournament — he had found the most beautiful lady to beg favor from, and this was his lucky token. His focus had to be the completion of the race; he had to come in first place. That was the long and the short of the situation. He could conquer anything if he broke it down into small, manageable chunks. Alec cleared his mind, getting it into “the zone.” “The zone,” to him, was a focused mind state that gave him the ability to shrug off most setbacks and still win. Alec reflected back to a device he had on the Quest that helped train him to get into the zone. He relaxed, setting his mind into the zone: single purpose, single outcome, single expectation.