DRIVER MACH 1

by ÆGEON DAVIS

  “It’s working,” I gurgled.

  I refocused my vision to my Visor display. My attributes were highlighted off to the side. The LIVE XP levels rocked up like an audio visualizer on a stereo from the nineteen-eighties. My mind blanked on what I was to do with the Total XP I was pooling. I heard a chime.

  “Upgrade your Speeder Level, human,” Spectra called out in a fury of blinks from the dash.

  What she said had my head spinning in circles. I then reached out before me as if to touch the display and accepted the increase into the Primary Skills with a flick of the wrist. Five XP was fed into my Mach Level, increasing the skill level by one. This left me with two Total XP.

  Lorean Michaels1

  “Holy shit! That’s awesome,” I yelled out, watching more LIVE XP pool into my Total XP while we were in action.

  I scanned Spectra and could see her LIVE XP levels rocked up in action and held steady at five points. This added to her four points she already had, bumping her Total XP to nine.

  Spectra Saleen2

  “Now do me,” she hollered and I refrained my male reptilian brain from digging too deep into the gutter.

  I motioned for her LIVE XP to be fed into her MACH Levels, remembering for every five LIVE XP can get you one skill level up. Her MACH Level bumped up one level, and her Total XP left over was now four points.

  Spectra Saleen3

  “Mmm,” she moaned with a combustible excitement. “I can feel my MACH Level up!”

  I casted my eyes around to get a better sense of the rushing race world around me. I could now catch the motion a little better than before we started. White sideline markers swished past me in rapid succession separating us from the shining sea on our left. To our right, fiery oranges burned on the clouds above settling around the purple tinted volcano.

  Spectra drifted us past the markers and into the beach-bound waves crashing onto the plastic bits that made up the shore. The pungent sea salt sprayed out from her new carbon fiber wheel wells and into my Visor. As we drifted back onto the sandy course, I followed the white tracers up ahead to see them transition to a swiveling flood lights. The whole production looked almost like an old Hollywood premier the more we approached it and my nerves were on edge. I waited for the feeling to pass, but it only intensified as we got closer.

  “Wait, what are those lights?” I hollered.

  “That is the Grand Casino,” Spectra called back. “It’s where the gamblers make bets on the racers.”

  The Baroque-style architecture of a domed patina rooftop was grander than anything I had seen before. Hammered wrought-iron decor ran up along the base of each plastic step, symbolizing the marriage of synthetic and natural elements.

  We sped right in front of the marvelous facility and a grand stage of spectator stands adorned with plush leather seats, vivid red-carpet pathways, and a dynamic scoreboard showcasing ten racers. The fact that an alien race constructed a raceway, on an atoll made of garbage and plastic bits of sand all while encircling a volcano in the middle of an ocean, twisted my mind in all sorts of ways.

  In a flash, we burned past the Grand Casino and its leaderboard and went on our way to another set of the course. This one started to look more familiar, as the surrounding setting turned from plush and prestigious to substandard and of poor quality. I recognized the trashy arches from before when I first arrived here.

  Then on the side of us, a ghostly premonition appeared that looked like Spectra before I had modified her front and rear wing. The phantom entity reflected her previous driving record and gave her an efficient opponent to train against.

  The Scabian Valley came next, which she avoided with ease since I wasn’t struggling to steer this time. We forked left, and the road began to climb upward as it met the neck of the volcano. My eyes widened when I discovered a canyon grow before us. I squirmed in my seat, trying not to scream. I hoped she wasn’t planning on jumping this part.

  Spectra hit the brakes, and she careened into a dashing slide that stopped us before the edge on an apex of a ramp. Looking over, I saw a snaking switchback road just under us that zigzagged through a small basin and up the other side.

  “This is the rest of Scabian Valley. That fork we passed heads down there.” she said, as we both watched her ghost avatar skip the jump ramp and head down into the canyon. The length of the additional course must have added an increase to her fastest record time.

  From the sides of the valley I could count hundreds of small rifle barrels emerge from holes tattered along the cliff. Thunderous shots rang out from each hole as they tried to hit the ghost avatar, but to no avail. My eyes widened in horror.

  “Those are the Scabians,” Spectra said. “Nomadic recyclers that live in the gorge. They help process the trash for the CarTsar.

  “How are the other racers getting across?” I asked.

  “They have McFly modifications instead of wheels,” Spectra said, sounding dejected. Then she turned the car around and headed back the way we’d come. “They can get a better trajectory than I would ever get… if I tried.”

  I fantasized about the different raceways, not letting the first obstacle escape from my thoughts. “Spectra, if we could unlock your Special Ability then you could Turbo Jet over this canyon,”

  “That’s correct,” she agreed, picking up speed. “But there’s one problem.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t enjoy flying,” she said.

  “Then why would your next ability be Turbo Fighter Jet?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, almost annoyed now. “Maybe it’s the CarTsar’s sick little joke he likes to play on women he collects.”

  “Maybe he wants you to grow.”

  She was silent for a moment.

  Up ahead, the day was getting darker. Swiveling Hollywood-like floodlights gushed with radiant beams brighter than before, replaced with sharp flashes of blue and red. The parade of illumination reminded me of a police barricade back home.

  “Shit,” Spectra said, hitting the brakes. “That’s Corvus!”

  We swerved on the nurdle bits of sand. Our wheels began to slide and I held onto my oh-shit handles just as we broke into a spin. My heart went into my throat and gasped what I thought was my last gulp of salt-infused air.

  We spun in vicious circles. What I thought was my neck breaking in several places turned out be a series of short, shrieking skids. My Visor stayed locked to the back of the headrest. My eyes felt like they could pop from my skull any moment.

  DROOOOWWWWWMMMMM!

  A foot came down on Spectra’s front wing with earsplitting sound. We jolted to a stop, my brain feeling as if it were swishing around inside my helmet. My eyes took more than a second to come to and focus on what was ahead.

  Three figures of gargantuan size stood in Flying V formation. The middle one was smaller than the others, but still made me think of a basketball player from Earth. The man was outfitted like a rugged War Hammer Space Marine mixed with a Monster Truck chassis. His alien chin was split into a soft bulbous form that wiggled and bobbed with his head movement as he eagerly waited.

  I looked closer at the colorways and decals he was painted in. They were predominately white with a few heart shape throughout. My eyes sprung from their heads just reading the scratched-up logo insignia that poisoned this creature’s every being; Hostess. A Twinkie image was branded across his belly paneling. This motherfucker was a goddamn Twinkie Monster Truck. Judging by the looks of him he was full of Twinkie shit inside.

  “Spectra, I told you not to come around here,” Corvus said.

  I didn’t care for his tone and I could not take my eyes from his bulbous green chin. His lips were a dark evergreen angling upward from a thin crescent smile to eyes that were narrow. They seemed to dart around in small increments back and forth as quick as a reptile’s forked tongue. The motion was almost indiscernible to my eye.

  My visor outlined the brooding, polished iron figure before me who was grinning like a C
heshire Cat. His Primary Skills were all high. “Well, looks like that just gave me five LIVE XP.”

  Corvus Cauldron4

  “Much obliged,” Corvus murmured in what sounded like an Australian accent.

  Although his expression was distasteful, his attention turned to under his still foot planted. His brows narrowed as he tried to discern the new carbon fiber paneling preventing him from crushing her front Wing into the ground. He then looked up at me and as the matching rear Wing.

  “What the hell is this?” he barked, raising his leg up and off of Spectra’s front end.

  My seat shifted, almost popping me out of my car while the headrest disengaged its bond. I pulled my arms out of the cockpit and pushed myself out, then hopped down to the side of her.

  Spectra’s shocks dipped, and she shot herself upward in a transforming flip. She landed with grace on her two front winged feet, tires locking into place just before rearranging in her upper half. Her arms crossed over her more-than-full-figured features and she stuck her hip out in a super sexy, and very I-don’t-give-a-fuck pose.

  “It’s called carbon fiber, and I told you I go,” she pressed her finger into his armor. “wherever I wanna’ go.”

  The amusing Monster Truck of an alien was still an immense towering beast casting a shadow over us in the dusky light. He stepped closer, running his banana-sized hands over Spectra’s modified rear Wing on her shoulder.

  “What is this material you have bonded to your shell?” he asked.

  “A gift by our new teammate,” she answered back. “A little something you wouldn’t know about—you know—since you abandoned us.”

  When his head shot down at me in a darting stare, his bulbous soft chin jiggled like two mounds of Jello. I refrained from chuckling when he stepped closer to me, sizing me up to his height.

  “Aye, what’s this?” he asked.

  “His name is Lorean Michaels from Earth,” Spectra said. Just hearing her speak my name in a nicer tone made me feel so much better. As for the brute in front of me? I was tired of dealing with bullying assholes.

  I took a stride toward Corvus to call his bluff, but he took a step toward me as well. You could cut the tension in the air with a butter knife. I bellied up to his. Twinkie to Zinger. Chest to chest. Rather, my head reached his belt buckle. He then bent down on one knee to look me dead in the eye. “We’ve been hearing about your racers from Earth trying to get a piece of the pie here on Cauldron ever since one of you won the title.”

  “Listen, buddy. Humans are not the ones enslaving species. Perhaps you should reconsider your sponsorship or… should I say your slave contract?”

  He rubbed his bloated chin. “You got a pair of cajones if you think you’re gonna get Pit 10 anywhere but dead last.”

  Cajones? His prominent ball sack of a chin swayed before me. It looked like a goddamn Twinkie in the wind. I thought back to my father’s garage, when I was young and training on the speed bag. Then, without warning, I reached up and struck his scrotum-like skin, watching it ripple in slow motion from the blow. His eyes widened in horror and the rebound came back so I struck it again and again.

  As the adrenaline flooded through my body, I felt my LIVE XP explode to the max in both Strength and Speed. My Total XP began to pool up to twelve points. “God damn Twinkies!” I cursed.

  Lorean Michaels5

  Corvus fell to the ground in agony. His posse of buffoons—their chins throbbing from the sympathy in pain he experienced—stepped back. I balled my fists up, ready to unleash all the pressure I had building inside me.

  Spectra’s mouth hung open, and she twisted it into an acceptable grin, “You may be a moron… but you definitely have—what are these called—cajones?”

  “Yep, and I can show them to you later,” I said with a wink.

  9

  Tag Team The Captain

  “This carbon fiber has made me faster and stronger,” Spectra said, and then she looked to me with a kind glance, even if it were only for a second. “Corvus tried to threaten us. He slammed his foot down on my front wing, but there was no damage.”

  “I don’t care if you are stronger or faster, honey,” Mechanica argued back. “I’ve calculated your MACH Level and you are still too slow to make da’ jump over the Scabian Valley.”

  “If you can’t make the jump, then you can’t get to the portal in time,” the Trixies said.

  Spectra was quiet contemplating Mechanica’s logic. The Trixies braided the last of the carbon fibers for any additional pieces we could stamp out. We all sat in a dump of Pit 10. As I glanced around at each of the alien women, I still could not wrap my head around the fact that I was working with a racing team. The complication of them being brought here against their will fucked up everything, but if I could help them win, I could get them out of here.

  Spectra looked at me again and then narrowed her eyes before she said, “Unfortunately, we are on own now, ladies. Lorean has fulfilled his sentence of fixing me.”

  “Not yet,” I said. “You still have to race and I promised the CarTsar you would be a better contender than you were before.”

  Spectra smiled. “Don’t you have to get back to your family? Perhaps a treasured one?” she inquired.

  “You mean a loved one?” I repeated—the term sounded strange and ambiguous having not been in relationship for quite some time now. “Nope. Been single for a while now. As for family, I do have my Uncle Pete, but he gets along just fine without me… for the most part, at least.”

  My thoughts strayed to my Uncle back where I had left him on Earth. I hoped I’d given him enough time to get away. I caught Spectra looking at me longer than normal. She fixated her pointer finger to one shelf where a small cot was. “Then looks like you’ll be sleeping there, Team Captain.”

  “Team Captain?”

  “Why not?” Spectra said. “You may be a moron, but you have a knack for Fixing and you seem to care about helping us win. Our team is Captain-less.”

  “Outstanding,” I said. Did this mean I was taking part in this slavery? The whole situation left me feeling more than uncomfortable.

  “Single, eh?” the Trixies beamed, dropping the braids of carbon fiber. Each one pranced to each of my sides. “Can we be your girlfriends?”

  The Trixies were heaven-sent gorgeous and yet super forward in their nature. I could imagine just dating one of them was a handful enough of a job. Each of them pressed their heads against my shoulder. I felt my face grow flushed.

  “All right, Trixies and the moron. We need to work,” Spectra said, and she seemed almost envious. “Unfortunately for you two, flirting doesn’t get you XP earned.”

  Flirting doesn’t get you XP. A cracking idea came to my head.

  “I think I know a way to make it over the canyon,” I offered.

  The Trixies lifted their heads and everyone turned their attention to me., I stood up and tried to gather my thoughts. The extra XP I’d earned from fighting Corvus could be enough to unlock a Special Ability.

  I walked over to my Visor, then pulled it over my head. I tapped each of their profiles including mine. I had a total twelve points sitting in my Total XP pool.

  Lorean Michaels1

  Spectra Saleen2

  Trixie Penny-Farthing One/Two3

  Mechanica Conveyus4

  As I sifted through the others, I noticed the Trixies’ STUNT Level was at five already. That meant she only needed a six level bump to cycle around. In addition, their Total XP was already at fifteen points. I compared my Total XP and saw fifteen as well.

  “After scanning all of our profiles, it looks like the Trixies are closest to unlocking a Special Ability,” I said.

  “What is it?” Spectra asked.

  “Bridger,” I said, reading in on more info about the ability. “It says they become can become bridging vehicles.”

  Mechanic scoffed at the idea. “Honey, I told you. There ain’t no use unlocking a Special Ability unless you have the tools.”


  I perused over what she claimed. In a way, she was right. Pit 10 was shit, and we were surrounded only with basic vanilla tools and the large stamping machine. At least we were fortunate enough to have that. Then, my mind focused on the task. Looking down to the braided strands of carbon fiber, I had an idea.

  “Since we can’t properly outfit the Trixies with the tools we have, then why don’t we just use the remaining carbon fiber ropes to help equip Bridger Ability?” I asked.

  Mechanica pondered for a moment, and then a smile crossed her face. “I’ll try, honey, but no guarantees.”

  I was beaming with a newfound energy. Solving just a few of the problems made me feel like I was actually contributing to the team. As I looked around, I noticed Spectra didn’t look as pleased as the rest of us.

  “You are all wasting your time,” Spectra said. “Yeah sure, the Team Captain can unlock their Special Ability, but they would still need thirty Total XP to upgrade their STUNT Level and get it bracketed. And last time I checked, one cannot simply give away Total XP.”

  The notion she presented did not surprise me. What would be the good of experience points if you didn’t have to earn them? I mean, it weren’t frequent flier miles, for god’s sakes.

  “Oh, there is a way,” Mechanica said, nudging Spectra. “I believe the CarTsar showed the Trixies just how it was possible.”

  “Oh, yes he did.” the Trixies said in unison. Their usual bubbly demeanor was exuded by an overt sensualness. “Well, do you want to unlock it and try?”

  “I guess so,” I said, unsure I was getting their full meaning.

  “Come and let us show you the best way to transfer points from to another,” Trixie One said. They both each placed their arms on my shoulders.