The Full Circle Six (3 page)

“I doubt that could be considered viable.” Drake sniffed in impatience. “Does anyone else have any ideas that don't refer to devils and drunks?”

“Well, why don't you just turn it and see what happens, maybe you'll find another one some day.” Sammy suggested.

“I've already tried that. Never mind, it is really of no concern. The only concern we should have is winning the race. I want everyone in position in one hour to begin launch to our proper coordinates.” Drake dismissed his members to go give their farewells to anyone they might know staying behind. He himself would sit at the helm of his navigation command center and wait, with his holochart gazers turned in the viewing position. He also had a fleeting thought about which planets might have turned out being the best for stopping. The usual calm settled over Drake, as the familiar groove of his personal chair and controls unfurled around him to fit to his style perfectly. During this stage, the racer felt and thought nothing but victory. Completely in his element, he was doing what he does best, and mapping out the course through the gazers. Nothing could disrupt him at the moment. He was ready to strike out and he believed he had a strategy that would advance him a position close to the start of the race.

Once everyone was in their suitable stations, it seemed all was ready for launch. Bruvold had different plans for the crew, though, and he interrupted the launch sequence entering with a tray containing glasses filled with dark, smoking liquid. He was wearing a combat training suit with a loud, feather headdress.

“Is for you. Is for your drinking. Is good for you and good for fool sarcle seeex. Drink, drink. Is for you.” He was talking as he was passing out the strange concoction.

“M.O., could you please tell me if this stuff is safe to swallow?” Drake was examining the contents of the glass with distaste in his expression.

“Is safe, is good is for drinking.” Bruvold insisted.

“I see no immediately harmful qualities, sir.” explained Priscilla. “I believe it safe to consume.”

“Let
me.
Have a look at that, as I
am
the F.B.R.” Juhaen grabbed a glass and drank it all in one gulp, he then bent down low and stuck one thumb up in the air.

“Well bottoms up then, I suppose.” Drake drank his share of the smelly substance, while the others choked theirs down. Everyone may not have seemed satisfied with the drink, but none of them were damaged by it either.

“Now that that's out of the way, we can get back to the launch. I want all in positions and ready in ten seconds.” Drake was looking determinedly forward with his right palm over the ignition button. There was a calm silence, then a thunderous sound of the engines springing to life. Drake loved this sound more than any he had heard so far in his life. As they lifted toward outer space, the team cheered and clapped with Freddie singing a number.

“Knock that off, pretty boy, you have nothing to cheer about yet. In your positions. Juhaen, get me a coffee so I can get rid of this putrid taste in my mouth … Sammy, shields up on the double. Freddie, open this racecraft up. I want full engine power. Jaws, contact racecraft number twenty-six, and patch me through private com when you do … Kraus, Bruvold, start showing Croxy how to operate weapons. M.O., go to the medical quarters and stand by.” Drake ordered all these commands with precision, speed, and authority. The crew obeyed at once.

They arrived at their scheduled coordinates just before the number twenty-six racecraft made contact. After ordering all engines to a stop, Drake took the personal mental receiver out of its compartment and placed it appropriately on his head.

“Is this Folders, navigator of the number twenty six racecraft?”
Drake's thoughts were transferred over to Folders who was on the other end of the receiver.

“You bet, what are you thinking? Heheheh”
Folders joked.

“I want you to go full power as soon as the race starts … catch the racecraft in front of you, and take him out by any means necessary … I will do the same on my end. These low level racecrafts should be easy for us to handle.”
Drake was thinking of attacking a lower level racecraft into submission at the same time as his teammate, so he could gain two positions for the price of one.

“Will do, I wonder … do you suppose I could leave a hidden minefield behind me and transfer the coordinates on over? ”
Folders had a few tricks in the weapon department as well, it seemed. Drake got excited at this; it brought the prospect of taking out a lot more racecrafts than initially expected.

“That sounds amazing, Send me the coordinates a.s.a.p.”
Drake couldn't wait to start passing debris from enemy race-crafts that wouldn't be aware of the minefield.
“Number thirteen ending transmission.”

“Jaws, I want you to feed me all coordinates the number twenty six racecraft sends over as soon as they patch through … They will not come all at once, so be alert.” Drake was not totally convinced. “Kraus, I want you to assist him … Bruvold can handle that right now. The race begins in one-half hour people, so get your game faces on.”

T
he race began with Drake ordering the engines back to maximum power, an unfruitful strategy in most long distance races given the immense strain it can have on racecraft engines. Drake was well aware of this strategy's failures, but knew he started farthest from the destination. He felt it was absolutely necessary to maintain full speed longer than he would have normally been inclined to. Drake ordered the F.B.R., Juhaen, to study shield operations with Sammy, for his second official Full Circle Six command. Within five hours into the race, Jaws received his first set of coordinates.

“I got one, sir!” Jaws seemed too excited for just being contacted. Drake said nothing and immediately transferred the coordinates in his navigation command center, as well as in his holochart gazers. It would be some time until they came across the mines, but no mistake could be tolerated.

Drake Judge felt the exhilaration begin to work its way through his limbs and his torso. He finished off another cup of coffee and straightened his denim hat. This was the big time for him. The largest challenge he'd ever faced and the sheer eagerness of the hazardous conditions, competition, and actuality that he could finish this race season in first place was near to the point of overwhelming. For a long time, Drake had stayed away from long races, and especially this race, because they didn't coincide with his full speed, all out style of racing. He was unsure of when to cut the engine power, but he knew that he did not want it to be too soon, although being too late would ultimately be worse. At any rate, Folders was not the only racer with tricks. Drake wanted desperately to try a few of his own on any potential targets that would get in his way. On the eve of the first day, one such opportunity came Drake's way.

“Cap, we are closing in on racecraft number twenty, and she's moving slow.” Kraus, who was working with Jaws on communications and sensors, was the one to pick up the sensor and report it.

“Ok, all weapon hands in position … Bruvold, take left cannons … Croxy, take right cannons … this will be a good lesson for you … Kraus, I want you on special weapons control in case anything gets out of hand.” Drake's heart was pumping now; he finally had action. He scooted up to the edge of his seat and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the conflict.

“In range momentarily.” Jaws reported contently “Are you intending to destroy them?” He continued in a humane tone.

“If it's necessary, yes I will take every measure to ensure we pass them. It's my job.” Drake looked like a lion ready to pounce on his prey. “Right cannon, lock and load. Fire at will … Left cannon stand by to follow suit on my command … I want those shields of theirs disabled in sixty seconds.”

“Firing right cannons, sir.” Croxy was pushing his buttons inside of his spinning cannon control booth.

“Scanners report multiple hits and misses. Enemy racecraft shields as follows: Forty two percent, one hundred percent … Only two shields on this one.” Jaws explained.

“Right cannon, get down to the loading chamber begin load of right cannon stand by for load of left … Left cannon, fire all rounds, take those shields down.” Drake ordered nastily.

“Incoming, reverse fire, closing in on upper left section of shield.” Jaws almost sounded worried.

“Thank you, C.E … Preparing for evasive maneuver, cut engine to eighty percent right thruster and watch me work.” Drake had a malicious grin on his face.

“Left cannons, all direct hits … Enemy shield reports as follows: Zero percent, twenty four percent … Evasive maneuvers accurate, enemy fire evaded.” Jaws actually looked stunned, if he had only worked with Drake before, he wouldn't be. “Enemy engines have come to a complete halt, we have an incoming contact.”

“Deny contact, and return full power to engines … They pose no more threat, so we will just pass them by.” Drake leaned back in his all of sudden more comfortable navigation chair, knowing that in under a day he had just moved out of last place. He began to wonder if the number twenty-six racecraft had worked out a way to take out another, giving him two positions in the first day. The fact that no contact had been made, led Drake to believe that there had been no confrontation for his teammate, as of yet. “Croxy, after loading those cannons, go on break and you too, Kraus … I want you two ready first thing after coffee.”

“That was a tough one, boss, huh?” Sammy joked. “By the way, our shields are ninety nine to a hundred.” Drake smiled back and stuck his chin out demonstrating his take no prisoner style.

“More coordinates from the number twenty six, four more to be accurate.” Jaws patched them over to Drake as he had done previously. Drake noticed that the coordinates were in very strategic places. They would make Drake have to use a little more time going around them, but other racecrafts would probably navigate right in their path if they didn't know. A position is slightly more important than completing the race faster, a fact Drake despised, but respected.

More breaks were dispersed throughout the night, and in the morning Drake decided he deserved a private, congratulatory coffee as well. He made his way to the consuming quarters, ordered some coffee and bread from the delivery dispenser tubes, and came to rest at the module nearest the door. After a few bites of bread, Drake decided to have some meat to go along with it. He drank and ate in silence, listening to the purr of the thrusters at full speed.

He let his mind wander to his favorite races in the past. Races that he ran at full speed for the duration, and others that required skillful change of speed and weapons tactics. In one particular race, Drake had started in the first position, dropped back into second to last, and then proceeded to dismantle every racecraft between himself and the finish line. This frightened the last place racecraft so much, that instead of trying to pass Drake for the win, they cut power from their engines and settled for second place. He would not stop at any cost to ensure victory, and he hoped his entire crew understood at least that much of him. Drake finished off another cup of coffee, his bread, and his meat, and then returned to the comfort of his navigation chair.

After the first week, the crew had settled in nicely to Drake's standard. The number twenty-six racecraft had employed several more mines, and even reported decommissioning the number eighteen racecraft. Drake now had the information that two of the twenty entrants were of no more concern. The mine total was at fourteen, and they only registered one more in their banks. Once Drake had these last coordinates, he would be able to finish plotting his navigation through them. He wasn't entirely sure Folders wouldn't keep that information to himself, in order to place himself on the victory platform. Drake knew that he would do the very same in his position. Thinking of positions, Drake was still slightly irked at his current position in this event, but it was still early and he had moved up two places already. He also had every intention of gaining more, and as quickly as he could manage. This could not concern him much at the moment; however, things were going well as far as he was concerned, in spite of Freddie on his case about the engines.

The following week, the number twenty-six did not send coordinates, but instead sent news of disaster in the form of the younger Oblize brother number seven racecraft. According to the contact message, a battle occurred, whereas it appeared Folder had damaged two of four enemy shields. The Oblize captain had equipped a space freeze capsule, however, that transformed to the size of a mountain when released, and froze all instruments in the twenty-six. They reported a full month to recovery, along with two dead and only one half of a shield remaining.

This tragic news sent most of the crew a dampening image, that it could have been any one of them in their stead. For Drake, it meant that his teammate not only didn't give him the information about the mine he desired, but would not be of any further assistance from in front of his own racecraft. Drake concluded that had Folders employed the last mine, he would have sent the coordinates in his message. That kind of information would be too important to forget to communicate with a teammate. So far he was navigating through the mines with no difficulty, and Jaws had reported some debris on the scanners that could have been another racecraft finding a well placed mine by Folders.

Two things of consequence started off day thirty-nine. The first was a contact from league officials with their estimated times and positions. The second was another Freddie confrontation, this time with Drake.

“Sixteenth, you pathetic wimps, sixteenth place. If any of you think you're doing good enough to win, think again. Why, I …”

“Cap, we aren't winning anything if you keep running these engines so hot. We are going to explode one of these days.” Freddie had been joking this point for some time, but this time seemed to say it with a flare of anger.

“Full speed is what I ran for most of the last race, which lasted over ninety days. SO, our engines will be fine for now.” Drake had twirled his navigation chair to where it faced Freddie.

“I must insist, D.J., that you tell me how long you warrant leaving these engines on max?” Freddie continued.

“I will leave then on max until my navigation controls start melting into the Racecraft, pretty boy! Do you understand that we are in sixteenth place?” Drake stood up and over Freddie as he screamed at him.

“You are going to kill us all… You won't be sat…” A blow from Drake to the back of the head silenced Freddie.

“He seems so worried … Hmmm … Sammy, convert half of shield two's power to engines … Bruvold, accompany Freddie here to the medical quarters. Tell the M.O. to treat his head and give him something to help him relax … Kraus, I want you to take his post… I apologize, people, but I don't threaten your lives. Every member of this team has made a commitment to this race … and therefore a commitment to me.” Drake repositioned himself in his navigation chair and started manual navigation to avoid the last known mine, after making the commands.

“Transfer complete, shield two at fifty percent.” Sammy pronounced, before asking Juhaen to fetch him a cup of coffee.

It took Drake a little over four hours to complete his manual navigation, after which he decided to give the engines a tiny break.

“Kraus go ahead and tone the engines down one level.” Drake was standing and roaming the deck as he gave his order, with his hands behind his back. Kraus obeyed the captain without response, while Drake returned to his chair.

“Ok, sir … it looks as if we have a faint signal from enemy racecraft, maybe three quadrants ahead … It looks like one quadrant right, as well.” After hearing these words from Jaws, and his little spat with Freddie, Drake was more than ready for another battle.

“Activating manual navigation … I want that racecraft on my visual screen, Jaws, patch it through when pinpointed … I am not letting this one go … Croxy, go get Bruvold and get in the same positions as last time … I want Juhaen down in the loading chamber. Kraus, stay where you are, if I need you on special weapons I'll let you know.” Drake was manually trying to follow the racecraft from behind its course, and found it easier when he could visibly see it. He would like nothing more than to move up a position just hours after getting the message that said he was a lowly sixteenth.

“I have it, sir, patching over now.” Jaws proceeded to do as stated, looking focused.

“Yes, I can see it… I cannot tell which one. It's too far out of range. Looks like you'll have to max those engines again, Kraus … We have to catch it … What do you got on the scanners, Jaws, tell me about those shields?” Drake was zeroing in on his target with the addition of the visibility.

“The scanners read only vessel … I'm not picking up any engine or shield, but its moving forward.” Jaws began to look confused at the instruments in front of him.

Meanwhile, Drake broke concentration from navigation for a moment to assure himself that all weapons operators were in their respective positions. Once he was satisfied, he returned to navigating with great precision. As he closed in on his victim, he began to feel that undeniable lust for destruction again.

“Just a little bit further … All weapons at the ready … Fire on my command.” Drake was at the point of drooling for the prospect of action. He figured he had gone too many days without destroying something more than a runaway asteroid. “I want all cannons left and right to be ready to send everything you got on my command, and I need Juhaen to be on the ready to reload. We are going to eliminate that enemy racecraft no matter who it is.”

Drake was secretly hoping it was the younger Oblize brother's number seven racecraft, which would make for sweet justice in his mind. “Fire Fire Fire!” Drake yelled with ferocity, as he had just entered into firing range. “Tell me some good news boys … Jaws get me a report on those shields … The racecraft still looks good from my view.”

“Sir, I am getting no scan of life, engine, or shield on the vessel signal.” Jaws turned to face Drake at the helm when he spoke.

“It's gone … It's off my screen. Wait, it … but no.” Drake turned in direction of Kraus with horrified expression. “It's a Holocraft being dragged! Stop all engines!”

Before Kraus could fully react, the number thirteen racecraft was blasted with an enormous burst that shook Drake's hat right off his head, and sent crew members flying in all directions. There was a whole lot of commotion for a brief period. Then, the only sound that could be heard was that of the engines. Kraus lifted himself off of the surface of the deck and proceeded to cut engine power. The medical operator, Priscilla, along with Freddie, and Juhaen, came into the room to check on everyone a few minutes after the blast occurred.

“Status.” Drake said softly. He wanted to confirm what he thought just happened.