The Full Circle Six (21 page)

“Let's do it,” beamed Sammy.

“Faster is better.” Bruvold beat his chest with his left fist, and then saluted his cannon.

“Starting to prepare now.” Freddie gave Sammy a nod.

“I was thinking the same thing, hyper-speed,” agreed Kraus.

“Whatever you say, cap,” Jaws commented respectfully.

“Seems like the right thing to do,” said Priscilla softly.

“You're the champ, Drake, it's in the bag.” Juhaen said, while starting to strap himself into his cannon chair.

When hyper-speed was initiated, once again Drake found himself in a world of rapid-fire lasers that he had to avoid striking, and he loved every bit of it, the bone shaking sound, the extensive muscle strain, the inventive colors, and the rush of putting your racecraft in jeopardy. If every commander were forced to race this way, he would never lose.

Drake felt he would be more off course during this venture, because he had to dodge one way and was unable to compensate to the other direction with maximum efficiency. Sure enough, when hyper-speed subsided Drake found they were a couple days off course, but the good news was they could still make it to the Clyme system within eight days. Drake disengaged manual navigation momentarily to stretch his arms and asked, “How are the shields holding up?”

“Plenty of shields left. There's only one damaged, it's at seventy seven percent.” By the time Sammy answered him, Drake was already navigating again and with a noticeable grin on his face. He was not alone in his good mood as the entire crew was elated, knowing they were closing in on one of the benchmarks.

Over the next couple of days, the worry about a surprise attack from Boxton weakened, and Drake began sending the crew on breaks two at a time. He felt somewhat unpleasant for calling them up early on account of a contact he never should have listened to, so he didn't care if they slept, ate, cleansed, or played games during their allotted stretch.

Sammy chose not to go on break, staying in the navigation center with Drake. He was going to be a commander soon and wanted to be as much like Drake as he could. Sammy would never treat sleep as optional, the way Drake did, but he planned to keep up for days to try and impress upon the commander that he did not make a wrong decision in appointing him the next in line.

Priscilla and Freddie took their breaks together and was either swooning in the consuming quarters or romancing in their personal quarters. When Bruvold and Kraus took their breathers it usually meant a battle of hand-eye harmonization in the recreational quarters. Although Jaws and Juhaen took their breaks at the same time, they did not spend them with each other's company. Jaws always went straight for his personal quarters and Juhaen either made minor repairs on the racecraft or nourished himself in the consuming quarters.

Drake relentlessly controlled the number thirteen racecraft, only briefly disengaging manual navigation to down mugs of coffee given to him by Sammy, or to stretch his arms and legs. To Drake the hours and days flew by and when the number thirteen approached the first benchmark, he insisted he get a visual of the Clymenian black hole on screen.

“Do you think that's a good idea?” asked the oft-frightened Jaws.

“We're not going to get close enough to get sucked in. Don't worry about it. We will barely be on the outskirts of its vacuum. We'll have plenty of power to pull out. I've always wanted to see this thing for myself.” Drake was shaking his head slightly. He didn't believe Jaws was in the right profession. What he lacked in backbone he more than made up for in nose. This little thought made Drake laugh out loud, as one of the most majestic scenes he had ever witnessed came in full view on the screens.

The whirlpool of energy was folding into itself like outer space had a mouth and it was taking in one long never-ending breath. The crew marveled in silence at the wonder until Bruvold spoke.

“Is good yes, but no good. Is death hole … Bruvold is saying we race.”

“Right you are. Alright I'll turn this thing in the right direction.” Drake switched on a couple thrusters and turned the craft around. “Now let's …” The sound of the number thirteen racecraft powering down made Drake less cognitive, he lost his train of thought. All that was left was impulse engines, which meant only one thing. Boxton Oblize.

“Sir, I'm … I'm sorry I was looking at … I didn't see, but the number two came out from behind planet Clyme. They are attempting mental contact.” Jaws was to the point of tears.

“Accept.” Drake did not have time to punish Jaws for his insolence. Drake's top priority was to discuss the terms of his surrender with Boxton Oblize. The thirteen was completely vulnerable and largely disabled with only impulse power and life support. That meant that they would continue to get pulled slowly into the Clymenian black hole and eventually be added to the memorial on planet Clyme.

“I told you I would be waiting for you.”
Boxton's arrogant thoughts transferred.
“Don't think me so brilliant that I planned to catch you in this helpless a quandary. But I must say it is a fantastic form of justice … don't you think?”

“I don't …”
Drake began.

“Well of course you don't think or else you wouldn't have led your entire crew to their destruction. For Ced, live always in space and time. I have a race to win.”
Oblize terminated the transmission and left Drake without letting him get a thought in edgewise.

“Boxton isn't going to help us out of this. If we don't figure out a way to get more power, we're all going to die.” Drake disengaged manual control. It would be of no help to him without active thrusters. “He didn't give me a chance to surrender … He wants us to go into that hole …”

“I'll go out and repair the rocket thrusters so we can launch out of its pull.” Kraus sprang up to go put on a suit and Sammy rushed to follow in order to give assistance.

“How long will that take?” Drake asked the room.

“A half hour at the bare minimum,” Juhaen answered. “We'll reach the hole in roughly seventy minutes.”

“Now is the time to be scared, Jaws.” Drake was not happy with his communications expert, and couldn't resist the entertainment of adding just a little more fear to his stress level.

Sammy rejoined the room about ten minutes later. “He said,” Sammy paused to catch his breath, as he had been running. “He said to engage launch thruster in forty five minutes, whether we hear from him or not.”

“All we can do is wait, then.” Drake was worried, but wouldn't show it. He kept it buried deep inside.

Thirty more minutes passed, after which Sammy went down to the loading zone to wait for Kraus, leaving the others to wait in chilling suspense. Priscilla was holding Freddie. Bruvold was pacing. Juhaen was mumbling to himself incoherently, and Jaws was flickering in and out of view. When the remaining fifteen minutes were up, Drake gave one last look around at his crew, and engaged the launch thrusters. Nothing happened. No jerks, no power, no sign of the thruster engaging at all. Five minutes later, Sammy and Kraus came up the ramp. Kraus looked defeated, and retreated into his special weapons station, hanging his head down into his hands. Sammy parked himself at Jaws' station, shoving the nosed creature aside.

“We got about twelve minutes to impact, cap … any orders?” Sammy stared as calmly as he could during such a time at his commander.

“We gave it our best shot. If we're all going to die, I want you all to know, it's been good working with all of you. I'm sorry it had to end this way. But if the hole somehow doesn't kill us, maybe we can rally back.” Drake finished talking and a stone silence fell, momentarily followed by the gradual increase of rattling.

“Five minutes to impact.” Sammy was still trying to look dignified. Jaws appeared to be weeping. Bruvold had his eyes closed while facing forward. Kraus still had not moved his lowered head. Juhaen had stopped mumbling and was now shaking. Freddie and Priscilla were locked together in a tight embrace, and Drake looked on through his holochart gazers at the approaching hole.

“One minute,” Sammy said.

Drake thought about saying the phrase of the fallen, but decided against it. After all, no one was dead. Yet. “Prepare to enter the threshold of the black hole.” Sammy looked at Drake squarely. “We're going through.”

“W
hat happened?” Juhaen bellowed.

“Nothing. We went through. Hold on.” Sammy said while checking the scanner instruments intensely. Priscilla was making her way to check on life-support when Freddie reported that engines were at full power.

“I believe we made it. Everything looks okay here, except the hole is in front of us now, and we are being pushed away from it with the same amount of force that was pulling us toward it. I'm going to check on the shields.” Sammy slid over to his normal station.

“Life support operational.” Priscilla's voice trembled unnoticeably.

“I hate to have to tell you this, D.J., but I think we're going to have to make a stop. These shields are about toast. The gravity flux must've shredded them.” Sammy faced his captain, who did not respond. “You all right, Drake? Did you hear?” Everyone was now looking at the commander.

“Drake!” Kraus shouted loudly as he shot out of his chair, but Drake held out his left palm, stopping Kraus' progression. Before moving his hand, Drake's entire form was perfectly still.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHH,” shrieked Priscilla when Drake removed his holochart gazers, revealing his eyes for the first time known, to most of the members who were present. Drake would usually get a reaction similar to that of Priscilla's, due to the spark that shone out of them, but the spark now looked more like a torch.

“Drake?” It was all that Sammy could muster, which was more than most.

“Your eyes, sir. They're … they're …
crystal!”
Juhaen exclaimed with a look of reverence that would suggest Drake had just become king of some rich land.

“Enough about my eyes. Don't you understand? My gazers don't work! We … are … Lost!” Drake couldn't help but let out his frustration. With his gazers out, he had no chance, in his own mind, of winning the race. “I think we are in a different dimension. These gazers would never just stop working. Nothing is mapped out. We need to go back through that hole.” The rest of the crew could hear the desperation in Drake's voice.

To Sammy, Drake acting desperate was even more bloodcurdling than going through the black hole. “We can't,” he said. “It pushes away with the same force as it pulled us in. There is no way back through that hole. Besides, even if we could, we wouldn't have enough shields to make it, considering what it did to them the first time.”

Drake put the useless gazers back over his illuminating eyes, and like hitting a switch, his voice was back to its usual gruff. “Find the nearest planet with the scanners and plot an automated course. When you're done with that, Sammy, I want to see you and Kraus down in the recreation quarters.”

Drake had just finished setting up the hand-eye harmonization console when his friends walked in and Sammy addressed him. “The scanners only picked up one planet and …”

“Forget about that, let's play.” Drake interrupted, while Sammy and Kraus glanced at each other, confused.

“But, cap …” Kraus' tongue was frozen by a stern look from Drake with his intimidating, glowing eyes peering over the top of his now ineffective, but still stylish, holochart gazers.

“Look, even if everything went perfect, and we miraculously made it back to the benchmarks, we would still probably lose. I've never won at hand-eye, and while my gazers are on the fritz, I have a good chance of whooping your butts. I'm not going to spend all this time racing out here without winning something. Best of seven, and you both had better give me your all!”

Sammy and Kraus figured it would be a good idea not to argue, so they gave in, and commenced playing one of their favorite games in a most unlikely time.

Without the hindrance of fully operational holochart gazers, Drake dominantly won four straight matches. Drake defeated the pair a few more times, until he was sure they were not just lying down. When Drake was satisfied that he had won of his own accord, the three helped themselves to some meat and coffee before returning to a gloomy navigation center.

“Quit moping around. What's our status? Did we plot a course to a suitable planet?” Drake's tone suggested everything was back to normal for the captain.

“Yes. We are on a course, but … I don't think it's suitable by any means.” Jaws was back at the scanners reporting. He gave Drake a wide-eyed look of fear.

“Stop being a coward. Out with it,” Drake demanded.

“The planet has intense gravity. None of us could venture out to the surface to do repairs.” Jaws responded.

“Check it out, Sammy.” Drake could not allow himself to trust Jaws' judgment. Sammy shoved Jaws aside with one arm and began combing over the instruments. After a short while, he spoke.

“Z.J. is right, I don't think anyone would be able to stand upright on this surface, and I'm not sure we could even land without smashing the craft. The level of gravity on this planet would certainly kill a normal man.”

“I can,” Drake said with authority.

“What?” Kraus and Sammy said together.

“I can make the repairs on the surface. The gravity won't affect me near as much. Maybe I can convince some locals to help as well. I don't think they'll know what the Full Circle Six is or anything, but they might be willing to lend a hand, if we give them something of value. The rest of you can make the necessary repairs inside.”

“That's great if we get to the surface in one piece. How would you suggest we land without becoming pancakes? We should look for a different planet.” Jaws was trying to talk without fear, but failing miserably.

“What are pancakes?” Drake asked seriously.

“I'll look, but that was the only planet close by I could find earlier, and our shields won't let us go too far.” Sammy once again started fiddling with the scanners.

“Did anyone try sending a contact to the league?” Kraus asked.

“Yes … is no good … is only for error …” Bruvold had a stern expression, obviously frustrated.

“Only one planet, and we're on top of it. The scanners did pick up something else moving out there … could be an alien vessel. It's a good distance away from us, and could you please stop whimpering?” Sammy gave Jaws a look of disdain as he said this last.

“What are pancakes?” Drake asked again solemnly.

“What do you think, Freddie? Can we land in one piece?” Priscilla was doubtful, and her features showed it.

“If we find water, we could soften up our landing, but there is no guarantee we will survive, or recover the racecraft.

“We don't have to worry about that now,” said Sammy. “Something originating from the planet is pulling us off course. We won't be able to break their hold without manual thrusters. Looks to be taking us to the only populated location on the surface.”

“So they don't want to kill us?” Jaws asked timidly.

“Sammy, Kraus, and I had a bite to eat earlier. I want the rest of you to go to the consuming quarters for a big meal. It very well may be your last.” Drake waited for the group to depart before letting out a deep sigh of annoyance. He had given up asking and just assumed that pancakes were pieces of flattened metal, given the context of the usage of the word in a sentence.

“Strange … I don't believe it. Our luck may be changing, Drake,” said Sammy with a little more pep. “Whatever they're pulling us in with is effectively recharging our shields. That means the only thing you'd need to repair outside would be all of the thrusters. These guys might want to help us. Estimated time of arrival is twenty five minutes.”

“That is good news, but there is still a chance they don't even know that they're fixing our shields, so they could be unfriendly, regardless.” Kraus always tried to evaluate things from every angle no matter the topic.

“Well for our sake, let's hope Sammy's right. It would be a load off of my mind if I just knew something about them.” Drake took off his gazers again, examined them nonchalantly, shook his head, and then put them back on.

“As long as you're the only one who enters the loading zone or steps onto the surface, then we'll be fine.” Sammy gave Drake a reassuring smile, but Drake couldn't shake a feeling of helplessness. His racecraft was no longer in his control. Drake blamed Oblize, and instantly a supreme rage joined the pool of emotions running throughout him.

“This is that space trash Boxton's fault. The coward was too scared to have an honorable craft battle. We have to get revenge.”

“That's fine, but one thing at a time, cap. You can't go meet the locals all heated. They might shut this little anti-gravity field we are being towed in off, and we'll never be able to launch out of here.”

“Good call, Sammy. I'll do my best not to compromise the situation further.” Drake was saying this out loud, but in his mind, he was punishing aliens with the full capacity of his combat training. He was secretly hoping that they would provoke him into showing them judiciously what he was capable of.

Down in the consuming quarters everyone had dispensed out meals except Jaws who was pacing the room oddly, muttering fragments of his fears audibly and disappearing occasionally. “Gravity … wars … holes … smashed … death … unknowns … repairs … population … dimensions … wars …”

“You said that already, would someone shut him up?” Freddie asked and Bruvold half-reluctantly obliged since he was having trouble separating his particularly tough piece of meat in half to make sandwiches.

“You are for eating not talking. Bruvold will break.” Bruvold gestured towards Jaw's nose. Jaws' look changed from trance-like to mortified. He sat down trembling and ordered a portion of bread.

“Did you feed Ouldsid yet, Bruvold?” Priscilla asked softly.

“No, for eating first. Is not for you job.” he responded indignantly.

“Fine, no need to be rude.” Priscilla said unperturbedly while cutting into her meat effortlessly.

Juhaen was eating quietly and observing the increased tension between his teammates, but there was nothing he could think of to do or say that would make the circumstances any better.

The only discussion was between Freddie and Priscilla. Bruvold was the last one to finish and had managed to make quite a mess. He had spilled his coffee causing his mug to shatter and he had a good deal of bread crumbs and chewed up pieces of meat all around his eating vicinity.

“Should we return? I'm not sure I can stand to look at that. It's dreadfully repulsive.” Priscilla shuddered and put her head on Freddie's shoulder.

“We better wait to be summoned, dear.” Freddie turned them both to where they didn't have to look at Bruvold's module.

Bruvold made no attempt to clean up. He proceeded to dispense out more food to take and feed to Ouldsid. The dispensing tubes were running low so that only small chunks came out now. Jaws was beginning to flicker again and Juhaen was debating on which to do at the moment and which to do later. Clean up after Bruvold or fill the dispensers. He decided to clean up immediately just in case Drake wanted to treat the locals to a meal. It would most likely be his job not Bruvold's if Drake were to bring guests in on a mess of this magnitude. He had barely begun when the intercom rang out that they were to return to the command center. When Bruvold heard the message he threw the dishes of meat and bread at the chamber Ouldsid was staying in and bolted to the center leaving another mess behind. Poor Ouldsid could only get a little chunk of bread, which had fallen through the open window panel on the front. The other four let Bruvold hurry by them and followed suit.

“We have five minutes until we land,” Drake said gruffly to the eight crewmen assembled before him. “Only I am allowed to leave these quarters. I will make the necessary repairs outside and when I give you the order Sammy and Kraus will refuel the rocket boosters. I expect we will be launching out of here before you know it.” Drake finished with a nod and proceeded to the main corridor.

As Drake was marching towards the loading zone he felt like the force was invading again. He didn't like this landing process it was too smooth it felt weird and eerie for the craft not to be shaking even a bit. He expected it would be near impossible to tell when the craft actually landed. He wanted more than anything just to be in control of his racecraft again. Drake latched the door to loading corridor behind, walked to the center of the room, folded his arms, and stared fixedly at the racecraft entrance in anticipation.

It didn't take long before Drake heard people outside tampering with the latch. Drake moved to the door and opened it. He saw someone right away and began to speak. “We require your assistance in exchange for …” Drake stopped talking when it became apparent nobody was listening. The beings looked vaguely familiar. They were shorter than Drake with dull blue eyes, muscular builds, and short blonde crew cuts. They were rushing into the loading zone with alarming speed and numbers. Drake had no time to react when three of them, carrying elongated assembled metal poles with one third of a cylinder attached at the tip, surrounded him and placed the fractionated cylinders together around his neck. The pieces fastened together to make some sort of neck cuff that kept Drake stationary and the extended poles kept him at a distance. When Drake tried to pull away, one of the blond beings pressed a button on his handle grip that electrocuted Drake, causing him to abandon his attempt at moving the captors. Drake blinked a few times and when he regained what composure he could he began to recognize the difference in gravity. The loading hatch was open and the pressure was becoming all too apparent. Drake was not sure whether he liked it or not. It was the first time he ever felt completely grounded his entire life, but it obviously creates more strain and would make you have to work harder for even simple tasks like painting a racecraft.