by ÆGEON DAVIS
“Right,” I answered, familiar with the system not too dissimilar from video racing games on Earth. I extended my hand out and scrolled to the bottom of the list. “What is this down here?”
Another group read ‘Special Abilities,’ but Spectra’s did not have any brackets and was italicized, “There’s a Special Abilities category I am looking at and you have an awesome ability coming, Spectra. ‘Turbo Jet Fighter,’” I said.
“Yeah, I know,” Spectra replied. “However, I prefer to stay on the ground.”
“But what are these? Like special moves?” I asked.
“Yes, the CarTsar has included these, and many other hidden abilities the Team Captain can unlock or ‘un-italicize’ as we climb the Pits from tenth place to first,” Mechanica explained. “However, if the Special Ability doesn’t have ‘active brackets’ on them, then it means you need to level up your one of your Primary skills one full cycle.”
“Yes, and pay attention to the which one is bracketed in that category. That is the racer’s current Special Ability they are using,” Trixie One said, toggling hers to show me how it worked.
“Knowing what we are capable of can give us the edge we need,” Spectra said, laying back down.
“This was a feat your champion from Earth could achieve,” Trixie Two said from behind me but then she trailed off. In addition, what she said sparked a question in my mind I’d had been wondering ever since I laid my eyes on these fantastical rearranging women.
“So, tell me. Why is she an Indy car, you’re a pair of racing bikes, and you are a tow truck?” I asked. “These automobiles are from Earth.”
“The CarTsar is an eccentric collector of many kinds of racers from many planets. We are part of his collection now, but he made us Earth vehicles because we are the slowest.”
“Which is why we are in last place,” Spectra pointed out.
What I thought was an itch on my thigh turned out to be Trixie One caressing me with her hand ever so slightly. “Do us now,” Trixie One whispered onto my helmet’s ear port. Her eagerness reinforcing a yearning desire.
I stepped to the side and shifted my attention to the twins. Their shapely and curvy bodies mirrored each other in a naughty schoolgirl vibe. An outline became clear in my Visor. Their attributes read:
Trixie Penny-Farthing One/Two:
Scabian, Racer Motorcycle Series
Primary Skill:
MACH Level: 1·|—————————·10
STUNT Level: 1·————|—————·10
DRIFT Level: 1·|—————————·10
—LIVE XP—
Speed: 0·|—————·5
Strength: 0·|—————·5
Steering: 0·|—————·5
Total XP: 18
Special Abilities:
[Twin Connection]
Bridger
Trixie One and Two’s Special Abilities stood out to me as one was italicized. I looked to Mechanica before asking her, “Why do the Trixies and I have some Special Abilities already?”
“The CarTsar enabled your Fixer Special Ability to complete your sentence,” Mechanica said as she pursed her lips; her tanned skin turned the shade of a tomato. I scanned Trixie One/Two from across the room. To my right I felt a soft arm intertwine with mine, and saw it was Trixie One snuggling up on me.
“We made an offer to the CarTsar he could not refuse,” Trixie One said.
“Well, her next upgrade is ‘Bridger,’ whatever that is.” the women were silent. “A penny for your thoughts?”
“A penny?” Spectra asked seeming more puzzled than I was. “I am unfamiliar what a penny is, but if you are asking me what Trixie was saying, then I will tell you. They slept their way to the top to get the ability unlocked.”
I blushed. Besides, they were two grown transforming robotic alien women. Who was to say that was wrong, especially on this world where you could lose your life in the blink of an eye.
“It was only one time,” Trixie One and 2 said in unison. “And we don’t hear you complaining about how our Twin Connection saved your ass in the Scabian Valley.”
“It was because of the Trixies’ blocking we are here in Pit 10,” Mechanica said.
Spectra was quiet, and Mechanica rolled up closer to her. As her wide crimson hips outlined in my Visor, Mechanica’s stats began to read out. She was in good working order save for the italicized Special Ability.
Mechanica Conveyus:
Vondirian, Tow Truck Technician
Primary Skills:
MACH Level: 1·|—————————·10
STUNT Level: 1·|—————————·10
DRIFT Level: 1·|—————————·10
—LIVE XP—
Speed: 0·|—————·5
Strength: 0·|—————·5
Steering: 0·|—————·5
Total XP: 2
Special Abilities:
[Tow Cable]
Combat Assault Deck
“Whoa! Mechanica,” I beamed. “You got a sweet Special Ability.”
“Really?” Mechanic asked. “What is it?”
“Combat Assault Deck.”
“Oooh weeee,” she squealed with joy. “Dat will be the day when I get to transform from this hunk-a-junk tow truck.”
Laughing at her excitement, I turned my attention back to Spectra. I waited for my Attribute screen to reveal her components. A list of materials read out showcasing her materials she was made from. In particular, nurdle reef pellet sand which was molded into various panels on her body. Repairing her panels using the plastic sand would be a waste of time. And since she said she was up against iron and steel what better way to combat those ores than with a composited one.
The Fuel Gel packs that Spectra had tossed to Mechanica and the Trixies had my mind spinning with ideas. These cars ran on the substance; I just hoped its chemical composition was that comparable to what my dad and I used on Earth.
“Mechanica, let me scan one of those Gel Packs,” I said.
Mechanica opened a small opening just under her large chest and pulled out the two Gel Packs she had left. They resembled a laundry soap pod a human would use on Earth, but they were much larger—almost the size of my fist.
My stats were reading different now with a quick view version now presenting itself featuring my Primary Skills, Total XP, and Special abilities in one convenient line. I tapped ‘Go To Footnotes’ for an expanded view.
Quick View Mode Available.”
I tapped the number next to the name. My Visor swished up the attributes in a single line read out. For an expanded view I tapped the ‘Go To Footnotes.’
Fuel Gel Pack1
Thermoplastic. It was the answer to prayers, as the polymer resin was the chemical precursor for carbon fiber. My dad used to imitate the process when he was building his go-karts to drive faster, be lighter, and last longer on the course.
“I have an idea how to strengthen you more than steel, but I will to use your remaining Gel Packs since I have no XP to work with,” I said to the women. “We can still keep one for the race entry.”
Spectra went wide eyed just hearing the suggestion. “Now, I know you are out of your mind.”
Trixie One stepped away from me, walking toward her other self. I could see them debate with each other without even speaking a word.
Mechanica was the first one to hand over her share. “If you think this will help us advance, then you can have mine.”
Spectra raised herself up; she seemed unable to believe the multi-armed woman could be so generous. Trixie One and Two followed suit, handing over their share.
I looked to the prideful Spectra, knowing she was on the fence. She needed to have faith in my plan even if it meant giving up her most coveted asset: Fuel Gel.
“A rising tide lifts all boats,” I said as Spectra placed her remaining two Gel Packs in my hand.
Off to the corner of the Pit was the stamping mac
hine. The press was old and hand cranked, lacking any hydraulic pistons. Instead, it used cogs and gears to achieve the pressurized steam it required to stamp out the parts.
I sat alone with my thoughts for, wondering how hot the contraption could get—a factor that could affect the carbon fiber process.
“I think we’re gonna’ need a bigger boat.”
“A bigger boat, honey?” Mechanica asked as I inspected the stamping machinery. “I don’t understand. What does a boat have to do with fixing Spectra? We haven’t even entered the Hydro Racing Trials.”
I chuckled at her innocent question. Hydro Racing sounded fun as hell. The stamping machine before me was ancient, but it seemed to have all the attributes to get the key ingredient in making carbon fiber paneling: heat.
“Never mind that, Mechanica,” I said. “I need you to crank the heat on this to the max. For carbon fiber to form we will need to cook off all the other elements that aren’t carbon.”
“I can do that, honey,” she said, attending to the stamp machine.
“And Mechanica, please add in Spectra’s front and rear molds to be stamped out,” I added.
“Sure thing, Honey,” Mechanica said.
I walked to Spectra, who was laying on her side like a sultry Greek goddess; she was attended to by Trixie One and Two. If they had grapes and a feathery fan the scene would be complete in my head.
My Visor outline—on the secondary page where more detailed character stats were displayed—she needed her shoulder or rear Wing and part of her foot or front Wing restored. I walked to her foot and touched her broken plastic paneling.
“How do we get this off?” I asked.
Trixie One and Two spoke at the same time, pointing to her ankle where two screws countersunk flush to her metallic skin. “You can unbolt there and there. Then slip it off.”
I reached for the rolling tool chest and searched through the strange set of tools. Glancing over a tool that resembled a screwdriver, I took notice it was the same shape as the bolts that held her foot paneling on. I snatched it up and went to town.
Unscrewing the bolts, I felt the broken front Wing that was her foot loosen up. As I slipped it free, her soft pearly alien skin showed underneath. Her true foot was humanoid. Astonished how the part had bonded with her skin, I brushed off any remaining broken peices. She wiggled her bubbly toes and I chuckled because of their cuteness.
“Careful, I am ticklish,” Spectra warned me. “And I kick.”
“Good to know, Cinderella” I said with a wink.
We exposed her ankle and I climbed up to an even softer calf. She was pearly white, with indeed a sheen or iridescent quality about her when I shift my head under my helmet.
“Your skin is absolute amazing,” I said, watching the visual readouts in my Visor.
“Thanks, human,” Spectra said, brushing off my compliment. “As a Xoian my outer shell is superior to the frail asset you call skin.”
“Lorean, honey,” Mechanica interrupted from the stamping press. “We got this baby cooking on the highest setting. Gonna be at least an hour before it reaches max temp, though.”
I turned to see the stamping press heating. I ambled over to Mechanica and handed her the Fuel Gel Packs. “Good. Just enough time to get the fibers strung out. I will need Trixie One and Two for this.”
Trixie One and Two went over behind me awaiting my suggestions. I picked up a small metal flask from the shelf and handed it to the girls. I then ripped open the Fuel Gel Packs and squeezed the contents into the container. The robotic woman’s eyes followed the substances as it dripped down into the bowl, disclosing their dependence on the substance.
After extracting the last drop from the sixth pack, I handed the empty thermoplastic packs to the Trixie Two while Trixie One held the bowl full of the life-giving substance.
“Trixie One, we will heat this Gel up just to the point of combustion. When we reach that, throw in the thermoplastic containers and melt them down.” I said as I pushed two bins of nurdle plastic pieces off to the side. “Smash those nurdle bits into ash and mix them in. As the mixture cools, we will run it through the press to achieve a layered sheet.”
Trixie One and Two nodded in unison while Mechanica waited for her directions. “Now all we need is to cut the sheets into strands, and then interweave them together.”
Mechanica’s eyes lit up, and she reached over to a tool box, pulling out what looked like a razor sharp knife, “Will this work?”
“Absolutely,” I said, noticing her many arms assist her. “Tell me, Mechanica, have you ever braided something with all those wonderful appendages?”
She smiled and her bright white teeth contrasted against her dark, islander-like features. “Honey, we Vondirian women are the best weavers in the Galaxy.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” I said, witnessing my plan coming together.
8
Time Trial
After a few rejects and mistrials, the braided fibers went into the stamp press and formed to Spectra’s new front wing paneling. To test the strength integrity of the new material, I picked up a small wrench and raised it high into the air. Mechanica grabbed my hand before it could fall.
“What’s a matter with you, honey?” she howled.
I gave a confident smile and in my best Terminator impression I said, “Trust me.”
Mechanic let go and I watched Spectra’s concerned look fade when the wrench came clamoring down. A loud thunk succeeded and the panel took the shock of the tool with vigor. I smiled at all of the women in our moment of triumph.
We then bolted the other pieces to Spectra. The small, grey-and-black checkered pattern of the carbon fiber was still an eyesore, contrasting against the rest of her white fuselage body. Personally, I didn’t mind the interweaving texture and knew it was a sign of strength and validity. What mattered most now was that she was strong enough to race. I could even add more new material over her open wheels to protect against any bumping and grinding from other drivers.
“There ain’t nothing wrong… with a little bump and grind,” I sang in my best R. Kelly impression as I took off my Visor. Trixie One, Two, and Mechanica were all silent.
“I look like a mismatched mouser beast,” she said, walking outside of the garage and onto the pit turnoff. The crew all laughed as they followed her.
I rolled my eyes and responded, “Listen, this material is ten times stronger and three times lighter than what those other racers are using. This is what Earth-based racing vehicles use all the time and what the CarTsar should have had you wearing. Instead, he outfitted you with plain old pressed nurdle plastic.”
“It’s because we are dead last,” Trixie One and Two said.
“Well, now you have a fighting chance,” I said.
Spectra stood there with her arms crossed skeptically, then said, “We will see, human.”
What sounded like a grinding sound of gears and paneling began to grow, and I recognized the process happening before my eyes. Spectra bounded into a hop and twisted her body in contorted ways. As she landed, her slick rubber wheels hit the ground in a soft thud. Her shock compressors took the full weight of her frame and fully transformed into a racing machine.
She was sleek. Aerodynamic contours ran up her legs, carving out every curvaceous form up to her large intake port above the cockpit seat. True, she could use some work. She was a pieced-together F1 racer girl at that moment, but she looked ready to cut through the wind at breakneck speeds. Her open cockpit fully formed with a headrest and a socket connection. I watched the familiar steering wheel transform from the dashboard, and a set of buttons manifested in the center.
“Well, human, get in,” Spectra’s voice rang from the dash.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do the driving, human,” Spectra said with a rev of her engine. “But I’m not going to test out these new front and rear wings on my own. I figure if you trust your work and put your own life at risk, then may
be I can trust you?”
“I bet he cries like a baby when she brings him to Mach 2,” Trixie One said to Two. Trixie One stuck out her hand, taking the hearty wager with a handshake from her twin.
I smiled reluctantly and waved to the Trixies and Mechanica while hopping into the driver seat. My body felt the paneling adjust to my frame.
“Don’t forget your Visor,” Spectra said, her voice illuminated through various buttons that made up the dash controls.
I slipped on the helmet, and my head connected to the port in the headrest. I felt locked in like we were harnessed as one. The Visor came to life with Spectra’s attributes. I placed my hands on the seat just around two oh-shit handles, and awaited her take off. Spectra’s dash lit up wildly, and digital gauges that I couldn’t understand at first pulsed from a green to red color. My Visor was quick to interpret their functions.
“So, this is your RPMs?” I asked, pointing to the pulsing indicator.
“Yes,” Spectra said. “Now hold on to your butts.”
I yelped as the car exploded in acceleration.
As we pulled from the pit stop onto the curving section of the road, I felt the high speed pull me back into my seat. My cheeks jiggled from the force and my hair whipped violently against my forehead. I was dazed from the rush. Motion blurred past me.
“My brains are going into my feet,” I eked out in my best Lord Helmet impression.
“You first need brains for that to happen,” Spectra cracked from the dash. “Now, let’s see you if your new material can handle the base speed.”
“Base speed?” I howled. “I thought this was Ludicrous Speed already.”
“Not even close,” Spectra said.
My Visor displayed a wireframe mesh of the newly constructed piece, and a visual display reported speeds at Mach 1 in the lower left corner. Spectra’s RPMs were burning hard as they picked up the higher gear and sucked a massive amount of air into her intake. Her transmission box gave a thrilling moan from under me. The carbon fiber held steady resisting the forceful oncoming wind.