Drone Racer

by Andy Briggs

  I think it is possible for ordinary people to choose to be extraordinary.

  —Elon Musk

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1: The Race

  Chapter 2: High Command

  Chapter 3: Home

  Chapter 4: Scrapyard Challenge

  Chapter 5: The Discovery

  Chapter 6: Grounded

  Chapter 7: Power Up

  Chapter 8: Test Flight

  Chapter 9: Signing Up

  Chapter 10: The First Race

  Chapter 11: Every Loser Wins

  Chapter 12: Things That Go Bump…

  Chapter 13: The Watchers

  Chapter 14: A Welcome Gift

  Chapter 15: The UK Finals

  Chapter 16: Get Set… Race!

  Chapter 17: Not in Control

  Chapter 18: All to Play for

  Chapter 19: The Jaws of Victory

  Chapter 20: Evasion!

  Chapter 21: Homebound

  Chapter 22: Team Decisions

  Chapter 23: Trapped!

  Chapter 24: Runaway

  Chapter 25: Korea Path

  Chapter 26: Heart and Seoul

  Chapter 27: And They Begin…

  Chapter 28: Closing in

  Chapter 29: Hostage

  Chapter 30: Search and Destroy

  Chapter 31: The Final Race

  Chapter 32: The Rescue!

  Chapter 33: Reunion

  Chapter 34: The End of a Summer

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  THE RACE

  Carson Lox’s palms were sweaty as he nudged the throttle forward. The ViperLyte FPV racing quadrotor drone responded instantly, nudging towards eighty miles per hour.

  His craft banked effortlessly between the track’s neon-blue signs, which became high-speed blurs as he zoomed past. Ahead, the running lights of Logan46 blinked their silent challenge at him.

  “Come on!” Carson howled. He gritted his teeth in concentration as Logan46 abruptly shot straight up to avoid a sheer wall in their path. Carson heaved the joysticks back and followed the leader in a steep climb – but it was a short one. A vast dark ceiling filled his view and he heard the plastic on his radio controller creak as he pushed the sticks forward to level his aircraft out.

  Had he been a split second slower, he would have hit the ceiling at full pelt. There would be no coming back from that. It would have meant death in a shower of plastic pieces.

  Concentrate, he silently ordered himself as he drew closer to Logan46. His rival may have had superior engines able to spin him through tight circles, but Carson’s drone had been tricked out by his engineer and he knew he was faster. And now the racers were on a straight, he had the advantage.

  The track strobed its multicoloured yellow and red stripes beneath him, and the noise from the crowd began to rise as he doggedly pursued his rival.

  Ahead, a flashing circle indicated the descent into hell – a fully enclosed tube that coiled like a snake. Most pilots would be forced to slow down here, but not Carson. And clearly not Logan46.

  The view ahead was suddenly swamped by darkness as they plummeted at speed into the tunnel. The speedometer floating over his display clicked over … 89 … 90. Only the drones’ headlights revealed the curving walls that spiralled down and to the right.

  Carson’s jaw began to cramp – he was clenching his teeth out of sheer concentration. He had memorized the course; every twist and turn…

  Logan46 suddenly slowed as it performed a barrel roll right in front of Carson. It was a pointless display of acrobatics – but it had the desired effect.

  Carson nudged the controls to the left to avoid colliding – but he was going too fast to compensate for the abrupt turn in the tunnel. The edge of his forward portside rotors clipped the wall and shattered. The aircraft lurched to the left under the strain of the missing propeller and Carson’s aircraft spun one hundred and eighty degrees around—

  Just in time to see the racer in third place behind him round the tunnel bend and slam into him at full speed.

  Carson’s world went black.

  Carson yanked his virtual reality headset off in anger. He rubbed his sore hazel eyes as they adjusted from the FPV (first person view) of the goggles and looked out over the course that was spread over three levels of the multistorey car park. The crowd whooped as Logan46 crossed the finishing line in record time.

  Logan himself stood several metres away, his radio control unit firmly in his hands as his fingers nudged the sticks to make his drone perform a victory roll around them. Sweat poured around his VR glasses, which were covered in stickers: a skull and crossbones and another declaring him to be King of the Sky. His crew of three long-haired, muscular teens stood behind, swapping high fives. One looked at Carson and spread his index finger and thumb across his forehead: loser.

  “Smooth move,” said Eddie from behind. He was three centimetres smaller, quite a few wider, and a month younger than Carson. All twelve years old, Carson’s team were the youngest racers here. Eddie (his full name Edward, every letter pronounced by his parents when he was in trouble) wore thick glasses, permanently marred by greasy fingerprints, that he always joked were AR goggles – actual reality. He was, for want of any better position, the team manager.

  “That was a dirty trick,” Carson growled, slamming his visor on to the table.

  Eddie hissed and scooped it up as if it were made of glass instead of plastic. He stroked the headset protectively. “Easy with those! You don’t have to break everything!”

  “Well, Team Logan are known for their dirty tricks, Carson,” said Trix – again, not her real name, but she hated Tracy, even when she was in a good mood. Her dark brown skin was covered in sweat due to the humidity in the car park. It was so bad that her hair, normally gelled straight up in a cool spike – or a brush, as Eddie liked to tease – was already threatening to wilt like a badly watered yucca plant. “And I think you trashed my engine at the very least,” she reminded him. As the team’s official engineer, she traditionally complained about the slightest scratch on their drone. From the quiet way she spoke this time, Carson and Eddie were left in no doubt that she was saving her yelling voice for later.

  “I really thought we could have won…” Eddie sighed. “Even second place. I could have done with the money.”

  They all could have. They had begged and borrowed to build their latest drone, and Carson knew that it would be a long time before they could afford to fix a broken engine. If there was any further damage to the drone – and after a ninety-miles-per-hour crash, that was likely – then they would be well and truly stuffed.

  “Carsonators?” came a voice from behind. Carson turned in recognition of their team name – and immediately regretted it.

  Three bigger kids scowled at them. They all wore matching black tank tops with a familiar AirBlitz logo. The very same logo on the drone Carson had just flown into. Their pilot’s VR headset hung from his neck, and the radio controller in his hand had chunks of plastic missing from it where he had presumably slammed it frustration.

  The furious spotty drone pilot tilted his head until his neck cracked. Then he thrust a fat finger into Carson’s ribs.

  “You sabotaged my race! You owe me a new drone,” he said menacingly.

  Chapter 2

  HIGH COMMAND

  General Lewis’s arm automatically saluted as he passed more air force personnel on his way up the steep staircase. The steps ended at a platform that opened up in the fresh air, and the general found himself standing at the top of a tall, empty grandstand perched on a grassy hill. It overlooked a town – or rather, a fake town. The buildings were plain wooden structures but had real windows and doorways, some decorate
d with blinds and curtains.

  It reminded the general of the models he used to make out of old cereal packets when he was a lad, except this one even had self-driving vehicles lining the streets and mannequins poised as commuters and families.

  “We call it Summersville.”

  The voice from behind him caused General Lewis to flinch in surprise. The speaker was Jira Zushi, a small Indian man wearing a smart blue suit with a crisp white T-shirt underneath. His wiry beard clung desperately to his chin in a fashion Lewis had heard called hipster, but he could be wrong; fashion wasn’t something the air force was ever involved with. Jira looked every inch the brilliant technology billionaire he was.

  “I think our engineers had a little too much fun setting it up,” Jira sighed as he gestured to one dummy walking a plastic dog. “But you get the idea. It’s a regular town.”

  “I was told this was a demonstration for a new peacekeeping initiative,” General Lewis said in a bored tone. He went to many displays of new technology and weapons, and none were ever as good as promised.

  “Indeed.” Jira rubbed his hands together eagerly. “All around the world, police forces are overstretched, as are military operations, as you well know. More troops are needed after a war to keep the peace than required during it.”

  Lewis nodded impatiently. He was aware of the problem.

  “What if I can take all that hassle away from you? What if we could make the streets, not just of troubled countries but of our very own, safe for everybody?”

  Lewis opened his mouth to reply but stopped when he saw the gleam in Jira’s eyes. Jira extended his hand like a showman revealing his circus’s biggest act.

  “I bring you, the Vanta Hawk!”

  A small aircraft suddenly shot into view and orbited the test range. Lewis strained to listen, but he couldn’t hear any noise from the engines. Even a drone usually gave a telltale buzz.

  Jira watched him closely. “It has revolutionary electric engines boosted by solar power that increases range and makes it stealthily quiet. The fuselage has very special capabilities. And is made from graphene and vanta arrays.”

  The general raised his hand to silence him. “I’ll read the sales brochure later. Show me what it can do.”

  The Vanta Hawk weaved between the buildings at high speed before banking around and heading straight for the grandstand. Lewis expected it to zoom low overhead – instead it hurtled straight at them. He tensed, ready to jump aside – but the Vanta Hawk stopped dead and silently hovered.

  Despite himself, the general was impressed. Against the clear blue sky it was difficult to judge how big the drone was. He noticed the rotors were held on upward-arcing arms and twitched precisely to maintain the aircraft’s balance in the light breeze. He still couldn’t hear anything from the electric engines. A large transparent orb sat on its tail, reminding him of a glow-worm as green and blue lights flashed within.

  “That’s one heck of a quadcopter.” As soon as he saw Jira’s smile broaden, he added, “But we have plenty of those in the air force.” He had expected Jira’s smile to vanish. Instead, it grew.

  “Not like this you haven’t. You see, General, there is no pilot. There is no person at the controls, neither here nor halfway around the globe.” It was common practice for military drones to be piloted from bases deep in the English countryside, while they were flying in cities on the opposite side of the planet. “The AG-421 Vanta Hawk is the very latest in artificial intelligence.”

  “You mean, that thing is controlling itself?”

  “I mean, she thinks for herself.” Jira indicated to the pulsing orb as tiny lights flickered through it like a glitter storm. “That is her brain. An advanced artificial brain that enables her to reason on her own. We can even download her personality and transfer it if needed.” He turned to face the drone, and General Lewis was surprised to see the aircraft pivot around to face him. “Good morning, AG-421.”

  A camera the size of a large mug swivelled between the two men, as if studying them. The general could see his own reflection in the large lens. Then, to his surprise, a perfectly synthesized woman’s voice answered.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  Jira gestured to the general. “This is General Lewis from the air force. He has come a long way to see what you can do.”

  Lewis was rendered speechless when the drone turned to face him.

  “Good morning, General. I’m looking forward to putting on a show for you today.”

  Jira’s eyes darted between Lewis and the drone as he spoke: “Then please show the good general what you are capable of. I believe there is a bank robbery in progress. The thieves are heading to their getaway car and have the manager as hostage. Stop them.”

  The drone immediately pulled backwards and climbed high into the air. General Lewis watched open-mouthed as Jira began a running commentary.

  “AG-421 has a wide range of sensors on-board. She is climbing to get a full view of the town so she can assess where the threat is. To make things more difficult we have built three banks below, so she doesn’t know which one is being robbed.”

  The sound of an alarm bell suddenly echoed through the streets.

  “Ah, now she does. Based on evidence, she can work out the most likely target.”

  The Vanta Hawk immediately changed course and plummeted towards the ground like a bird of prey.

  “We have a real getaway car. Radio controlled by one of my team.”

  On cue, a blue hatchback parked in front of the bank pulled away at speed, joining the flow of automated cars, just as the drone soared over it. Lewis blinked in surprise as the drone came to a rapid halt and spun in a tight U-turn to chase the car.

  The getaway car skidded wide across a junction, forcing the driverless cars to screech to a halt. The hatchback sped up a side street, weaving between traffic to avoid pursuit, but high in the air the drone fell in behind it. No matter what agile driving the human operator did, the Vanta Hawk stayed on its tail.

  “And now the drone’s party trick. She’s fully armed.” As Jira spoke, General Lewis saw a small weapons pod lower from beneath the craft’s belly. “We have an innocent hostage on-board but need to stop the car before it causes an accident. AG-421 will assess the situation and dangers, and then—”

  Before he could finish there was a flash of light from the drone’s belly and a puff of smoke. A missile raced the short distance to the car and blew off a rear wheel. The car rocked violently, threatening to tip over before it skidded across a junction with smoke pouring from the wheel arch. With a loud bang, it slammed to a halt against a school bus that had been turning left. Vanta Hawk swooped in and hovered menacingly over the getaway car, but again the distance made it impossible to judge the drone’s size.

  Jira cleared his throat, a little embarrassed by the destruction. “Minimal damage and the hostage will be alive and well.”

  Flames suddenly licked across the back of the car and in seconds the rear half was ablaze. General Lewis glanced at Jira.

  “Minimal damage?”

  Jira shifted uncomfortably. “In reality, the thieves would have been out of the car already.”

  “And those on the bus?”

  Jira hesitated before answering. “Maybe a few cuts and bruises, but nothing too serious.”

  With a powerful boom, the petrol tank on the getaway car exploded as the flames reached it. The entire car flipped up – then came crashing down on top of the bus. Lewis arched a questioning eyebrow at Jira.

  Jira already had his phone in hand and continued the presentation as if nothing had happened. “And the Vanta Hawk can intercept any communications, allowing it to assess potential problems. For example, it now thinks I am calling the police.” He dialled a fake number and spoke. “We have a terrorist situation! Red shirts have taken prisoners in several buildings. We need help!”

  General Lewis’s eye darted to one of the tower block windows. He had caught a glimpse of red inside earlier but thought no
thing of it. Now he looked again he could see a mannequin in a red shirt wielding a gun. He soon noticed others scattered in several buildings. When he looked back, the aircraft was already on the move.

  Jira narrated. “AG-421 is capable of making instant decisions without the need for a human operator to intervene.”

  As he spoke, the drone arced around to the red-shirted dummy the general had spotted. Another missile was shot through the window and both men watched with open mouths as the entire top of the tower exploded in a huge mushroom cloud. By the time the black smoke had thinned enough, General Lewis saw the drone had looped over the town and smashed through the window of another building. It rammed through several rooms at speed, smashing apart the plasterboard walls before colliding with another red shirt, which was destroyed from the impact. Then the drone punctured the far wall like a high-speed wrecking ball. A second later the two floors above collapsed with a loud crash.

  The Vanta Hawk came to a stop, hovering near the grandstand.

  “Mission accomplished,” said the calm voice.

  General Lewis’s mouth hung slack in astonishment. He slowly turned to Jira, who gave a small shrug.

  “There are maybe one or two teething problems…”

  Chapter 3

  HOME

  “A thousand quid down the toilet,” sighed Trix as her soldering iron sizzled a wire which she pulled free. She sat at Carson’s desk, sleeves of her top rolled to the elbows, his table lamp poised overhead to illuminate the twisted drone’s chassis.

  Carson sat on his bed, surrounded by a mixture of posters from his favourite bands, sleek stealth aircraft poised against the clouds, and several drone racing championship ads he had printed from the internet. He rubbed his black eye, a present from the AirBlitz team, who apparently didn’t like younger kids answering back. That had been almost a week ago, and it was only just fading.

  “There’s this new National League event next month.” He blew strands of his overly long black hair from his eyes as he tugged a poster from the wall and flapped it to get their attention. “The Constructor League. Online it said any drone can race. They can all be different.”