Deathship (The Outsider Series Book 1)

Deathship (The Outsider Series Book 1) Page 6

by Steven Oaks

  “I know. Besides, it was just a little joke with words. It is a scooter. More specifically it is a Chinese electric scooter, Model number TDR152Z. It is battery powered. You do understand what that might mean based on some of our previous conversation?” she said mysteriously.

  “Honestly I’m having a hard time thinking about much right now, please clarify for me,” I said.

  “Well, the Outsiders have a few contacts throughout the world where people are encouraged to experiment with ideas. Someone wanted to see if they could use their battery technology in a mostly non-modified vehicle. So they put it into an already battery powered scooter, and it works. The output was a little bit too much for the original motor, so they replaced that too, but it is basically the same vehicle. It just goes a little faster, and runs a bit longer than its brethren.”

  “Well how much faster?” I asked, gasping for breath between words. I was honestly curious even though I was becoming fearful of drowning.

  “Well, the max speed for these is listed somewhere around fifty kilometers per hour, which is just over thirty miles an hour. You are going to be looking at the ability to travel at 120 kilometers per hour. Again in miles, that would be 75 per hour. Basically you can keep up with any traffic. May I suggest you keep the suit on? I will be able to change it to all black. Or you can even have what appears to be a leather jacket—and I will make the helmet appear as one for a motorcycle. I can change its color too. Sadly the shape will stay the same, but I can make it look like most anything near enough its size,” she said.

  “Okay, that’s amazing actually. I feel a little sad for the person lending it to us though. It’s going to get a bit wet.” And as I said that, I felt the shifting sand or dirt of the ground beneath my feet. “I’ve just touched ground Athene. Where am I suppose to meet this person?”

  “Just keep moving forward. I will alert you when you need to make a course correction.”

  I stood up and immediately felt my legs weaken at bearing my full weight once more. Around me there were a few reeds swaying back and forth in the water. I almost could not believe I was in Japan. Though I suppose I had already been here when I began my little swim.

  I walked along the bottom and waded ashore. When I was nearly out of the water, my true exhaustion began to hit me and I crashed down into the lake. I was able to crawl long enough until my entire body was out of the water. Then I simply collapsed into the sand.

  “Are you alright Michael? You have stopped moving and your breathing is very rapid,” she said sounding concerned.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine, just give me a minute. Swimming, even as buoyant as I was, seemed a bit more difficult than my first impression lead me to believe,” I said, breathing just as heavily as she implied.

  “Okay. But please as soon as you feel up to it, you need to get to the rendezvous point. I currently have you looking like a mound of sand. However if people see the ground breathing, and come to investigate, they will notice that you are not sand.”

  “Alright Athene. I’m about ready. I just wish I had something to drink,” I said, my mouth was very dry. I did not look forward to a day out on the town without being able to satisfy my thirst.

  “Again, I have taken care of this. There will be a Ramune beverage waiting for you, the original lemon-lime flavor produced by the Sangaria company,” she said.

  I dragged myself off the ground and groaned, “Athene, you seem to be thinking of everything. I shouldn’t be complaining so much, this is a great gift you are giving me. Thank you. Now please point me in the right direction.”

  “Michael, you should see a little blip in the helmet, just follow the light. You will meet Daito fairly close to where you are. Do not worry, he will recognize you. I am changing the suits appearance now. You should look like a biker to those that do not look too closely. Black seems a good color for that, as the bike, I believe, is of the same color. Now do not expect it to look like a motorcycle. You have experience with bikes, correct?”

  “You know I do, that was among the things I kept when I sold my possessions. Those trails I talk about are mostly me riding my bike down them. Lost in my own thoughts, it’s a great escape. But motorized ones, I’ve little to no experience unless you count a few hours on a three-wheeler when I was younger,” I said as I began to lurch my way forward to where the little blinking blue light was leading me.

  “I was hoping you might have some more practice with the motorized sort, but it should not be too difficult. The controls have been customized as well, there are foot pedals like a car, right for accelerator, left for brake. Just keep that in mind. It may look like a cheap, little moped, but it is actually quite advanced,” she said.

  “Well let us hope that I can get the hang of it quickly. Again we don’t have all day,” I said smiling. It sounded like this might be easier than I thought. Either that or this was an elaborate set up to get me to get some exercise in today.

  “Indeed we do not, hence why I am trying to expedite you to his location. You should probably see him now, by the way.”

  I looked up and I did indeed see someone. He was a bit shorter than me, but probably very tall by Japanese standards. I am a decent height of 6‘3”, and this gentleman was probably 5‘9”. He had shoulder length black hair, and what looked to be a start of a beard. He was wearing a leather jacket and jeans. I guess it was the standard get up everywhere for a rough-and-tumble biker. Then I saw he was standing next to a small, black, two-wheeled atrocity.

  To say it was not big would be an understatement. It was tiny. Even Daito looked large compared to it. I was going to be hunched over driving this thing. It was black, like advertised, but that was the only thing I recognized from Athene’s description. It looked like a toy. If it was going to go as fast as she claimed, I hoped someone had redone the brake system. It had tiny little tires and a weird bulge under the front light, which vaguely resembled an old style motorcycle light. Underneath the seat facing the front were what I took to be scratches. When I got closer I saw it was a sound-wave decal, and beneath that were random music symbols. At least the shocks looked large on not only the back but on the front as well. Lastly I could see there were foot pedals.

  I was just thinking maybe Athene had tricked me into actually pedaling a bike through Japan when Daito said, “Hello, you are Michael?” he said with a thick Japanese accent.

  “Yes I am,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  Athene whispered in my ear, “Michael, you should bow, or at least offer your hand. Then again, just bow. You are probably still very wet.”

  I bowed slightly, and then so did Daito.

  “Please, here is the key. Return here when you are finished. I shall be over at the McDonald’s if you arrive early,” he said, gesturing behind him as he handed me the key. “Do you need instruction on working the bike?”

  “No, I think I’m okay. Thank you for letting me use it,” I said a bit sheepishly. I really was sure I could get it all figured out, and I would rather not have someone show me. I learn best when I test things out on my own.

  “Okay, good bye. Tell Ms. Athene she is welcome to visit sometime as well,” he said as he backed away bowing. I bowed back, and then he walked away.

  “Ms. Athene? Does he think you are human?” I whispered to Athene.

  “I was not specific about what I was. Assumptions can make situations easier. Do not worry about it. I did not lie. I can always chat with him later and let him know if it makes you feel better.” As she said this I had straddled the tiny monster.

  “It’s fine. Alright, I’m going to see if I can get the hang of this now,” I said.

  I placed my hands on the grips and tested them, just to see if turning them did anything. I expected it would lurch forward, but I should have known better as it had not been turned on yet. It seeme
d the mechanism to control speed had at one time been on the handles but they had been replaced. The bike still had brake handles though. Perhaps that was just for when you were pedaling. I was not sure. But it seemed everything else was in order. Good, I thought. That meant I could focus on what I was being told to do.

  I flipped up the little kick stand that kept the back wheel off the ground, and rested my feet on running boards—which looked like they had been welded to the frame. The powered accelerator and brake pedals on either side were positioned in such a way that if my feet were relaxed, they hovered over them without compressing either one. I turned the key and no engine noise sounded. Experimentally I pressed lightly on the right peddle. I lurched forward immediately. I quickly took my foot off that pedal, pushed the left one, and stopped just as suddenly. I jolted forward against the handles, and spread my legs out for balance before the bike tipped over.

  “Well, it looks like it functions like you said. Very similar to your ‘stop and go’ technique I might add. Though that acceleration is a bit much for the little amount of pressure I put on it,” I said.

  “That is likely because of the limited space, and the addition of power to the vehicle. You should be able to compensate. Just be aware that micro-pressures will evoke a multiplicity of speeds.”

  “Yes, I am smart, and yes, I can adapt—but remember I’m only human, and this will take some getting used to,” I said, placing some emphasis on my last words. I felt she was being a bit too flippant about the newness of the situation, let alone the controls to this device that, if handled incorrectly, could lead to me to a premature death.

  “I can tell you are getting upset. But really, do not worry. Remember you are encased within the suit. We talked about this, you will be fine,” she said, sounding at once motherly, and like a teacher who has been teaching you a subject all day and you’ve forgotten it already.

  “Right, you did say something about that,” I said with a clipped laugh. “But you also said I should avoid kinetic strikes. I figure falling off a bike at 75 miles an hour would count as a pretty big strike.

  “I was talking about the kinetic strike from a warhead. I believe there is a sufficient difference between those two forces. You should worry less about that than any innocent bystanders you might drive or fling yourself into. Now get out there, we have a schedule to keep Captain.”

  “Yes ma’am.” And with that I slammed on the accelerator—and was briefly under the impression I would wind up laying on my back sprawled out on the ground. But I was ready. I held on tight, and gratefully, was not thrown off as I continued to direct the bike onwards, though slower this time.

  Learning from that mistake, the next time I tried to get going I gingerly pressed down, and was greeted with an acceptable speed. There was very little noise from the motor, just a slight hum. I nodded to myself in appreciation that it was so well put together.

  “Where to?” I asked.

  “Well, you are in Kyoto. What would you like to see?” she asked back.

  “You mean I get a choice?” I said with mock amazement.

  “Of course you do, this is your adventure. Is there anything you have ever wanted to see in Japan. Or did you pick Kyoto for a specific reason?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, maybe a shrine or a temple. I think the Imperial Palace might take too much time to wander around. I just want to look at something authentically Japanese.”

  “Well there are quite a few shrines and also temples around; however, some of them appear to look a little run down. And to be honest, Westerners are not really welcome.” There was a slight pause. “I would recommend the Kodaiji Temple. It is known to be one of the more beautiful ones, not just in this area, but throughout Japan. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds nice, point me in the direction, and I’ll be on my way,” I said.

  “Okay, follow the blue dot I am putting up in your vision. Basically head straight towards the McDonald’s Daito went to. When you reach the first intersection take a left. Then you will be on that road for awhile. Now unless you see a sign that says they are looking for speeders, speed. The Japanese police only really enforce one law at a time. If your headlight was out, and this was night, they would ticket you faster than they would a speeder. Just watch out for everyone else on the road, they will not speed. This is a country of people who will not break any law as it is for the public good.”

  “Are you sure about that?” I asked while slowly traveling down the short road before reaching the intersection. I wondered how I would recognize no speeding sign.

  “This all according to American tourists and expatriates. Alright, turn left, and weave through traffic like you probably always wanted to. They will most likely get out of your way. Just keep honking the horn, which should be the button nearest your right thumb, when you get near a slow moving vehicle.”

  I took a deep breath and said “Alright, but if I get in trouble you’ll bail me out, right?”

  “I will certainly try,” she said with no humor. I did not take this to mean positive things, but I went ahead and turned, then slammed down on the accelerator.

  At the least, I had the good sense to remember that I should drive on the left side.

  I thought I had been prepared for the force that came at me from being thrown back by the acceleration, but only just. I had been hanging on tightly with my hands, but my backside slid far enough back I was not able to keep my foot on the accelerator. I began to slow almost immediately. I pulled myself back into the seat proper, adjusted, and was able to again make contact with the pedals. I proceeded to increase speed slowly from then on.

  “Alright, so how old is this Kodaji?” I said, trying to focus on other things while I weaved in and out of traffic. I know I should perhaps have been paying attention to only that, but I wanted to make sure I was not losing contact with Athene.

  “It seems it was established in 1606 in memory of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who was a warrior general and politician who helped usher in the Momoyama period—thus ending the Sengoku period.” She sounded like she was reading this off of a page somewhere. “He seems to have disliked Christians and had at least twenty-six crucified,” she spoke in a voice that sounded like she was a little taken aback by what she had just said.

  “Well, lets hope the current Temple doesn’t take so harshly to foreigners,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “The temple itself belongs to the Rinzai sect of Zen Buddhism. So I do not think it will be much of an issue. The temple boasts many beautiful Zen gardens and the buildings themselves are in the lavish style of the era of Japan’s unification. With that in mind, I think you will be pleased.” While she continued to talk and try to inform me about what I was to see, I continued to brake and accelerate—honking my horn when groups of slow moving cars blocked my way.

  “Now you will want to turn right up ahead. I have indicated this by the green arrow and in yellow to highlight the designated turn in your vision,” she said suddenly.

  I slowed down, leaned into the turn, and then once more sped up to the apparent max speed of this little bike. It appeared I was to follow along side a train track for this length of my journey.

  We did not talk for a bit, but then Athene suddenly interrupted the silence. “Now if you look to your left, you will see a little Temple called Gesshin-ji. It is dedicated to the memory of Soshitsu Sen, an icon of the tea ceremony. It does monthly services on the 23rd. Hence why we will not be stopping there today. That and it is smaller than Kodaji. But you should be able to enjoy the sight if you slow down slightly as you pass.”

  She had once again highlighted an area ahead of me. I allowed myself to slow down to match the flow of traffic. I could not see much of the half-wall of stone, but it had the feel of an older Japanese building. There were numerous trees springing up be
tween the multiple buildings, and in the break between the wall section there was a little gatehouse that served as the door that led into the main complex.

  “Neat,” I said, unable to think of another word to describe the pleasure at seeing such a place. I passed it by all too soon, and once more gave the little bike its full throttle.

  As I continued to get closer to the heart of Kyoto, I noticed not only the traffic getting more crowded, but also the buildings. Everything along the roads I traversed was taken up by either a building or one being constructed. There were train tracks everywhere else. While I enjoyed the mystique that Japanese movies and their animation gave me, this was far too crowded for me to ever want to visit for any extended period of time. There were dozens of trees but it they looked as though they were being held back by some sort of retaining wall, and the houses seemed to have been built within any groves I saw.

  I followed the instructions given through visual cues easily. I almost wish I had this ability when I was driving down to Plato, Missouri, but my phone’s GPS and the maps program I had on it had been reliable enough. This just was far superior and simple. I never had to take my eyes off the road to know where I was going at any time. If I had been a more confident driver in a country whose traffic laws I understood, I would have felt I could go to any tiny hole in the wall place with ease.

  The driving itself was not as easy. I kept wanting to use the hand brakes to slow myself, but they seem to not be engaged as I was using the electric motor. Luckily my reaction time was fast and I was always able to press the left peddle in time. There were a few close calls however as I sped through and around everyone near me.

  I saw many interesting stone statues and monuments on the sides of the various roads I traveled. Some were just sitting by themselves, others in groups, and many at the front of shops and homes. All in all it was a pleasant fifteen minutes of travel.

 

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