The Full Circle Six (20 page)

Jaws already had a plan as to how to get the crew to drink the antidote to what was poisoning them. On Purefection, there were many ingredients that the native would be happy to provide for him, in order to mix a special drink to offer in celebration of the recent joining of his teammates. Just before the mixture was complete, he would add the Curasol when nobody was looking, and serve the drinks himself. It would only take a small amount for each person. Once ingested, Curasol would knock out whoever drank it, resting the body while it went to work on the poison. He would then transport all of the unconscious back to the racecraft with the transporter from the medical quarters. It might be a flimsy plan, he thought to himself, but it was the best he could do given the situation.

This time, before he left the craft, Jaws wrapped the entire length of his nose with strips of cloth, ripped from a pillowcase. He walked outside with his head held high, and a big smile on his face. He approached the first native he encountered and leaned in close to him, as if to tell a secret.

“Excuse me,” Jaws said quietly. “I wonder if you could help me with a surprise for my friends. You see, on my home planet, we have a traditional drink for the union of a couple. I would like to mix this drink for my friends, and present them with it.”

“That is simply wonderful!” The ecstatic native exclaimed this, relishing the romance. “Of course I will help you. Your friends won't know a thing! Right this way, sir. We can get anything you need from the banquet kitchen.”

While they were mixing the drink, the native had informed Jaws that his name was Forvan. He had come from the jumbo planet Fazeir, on vacation, but had loved Purefection so much; he just had to stay for good. Jaws nearly faltered in his good mood act when Forvan told him about Drake purchasing residences for the whole crew that day. Everyone was moved in. What was exciting about it, Forvan relayed, was the fact that they had all chosen homes on Purefection Place, the most beautiful and expensive places in all of Purefection. Jaws began to doubt his efforts to help the team. If Forvan had loved the place enough to stay, maybe the feelings of the Future Fuels team was the same. Maybe he was the one who was going to do the poisoning. When they were done, there was enough of the “punch” for not only the crew of the number thirteen, but also for at least a score of the natives. Jaws and Forvan carried the drink, and glasses out to a table set up for this special occasion. Forvan ran to get the team from Drake's property, where they were gathered in celebration. Jaws mixed the small amount of Curasol that he had into the punch and waited. His nose was irritated at being so constricted, and was beginning to pulsate against the wrappings.

Drake, Freddie, Priscilla, Sammy, Kraus, Juhaen, and Bruvold all came to the table laughing, and praising Jaws for such a sentimental act. They smothered him with affection, and Jaws did not quite know how to handle it. He stared at the racecraft, just six or seven yards away, as he made his toast to the newly weds.

“For Freddie and Priscilla, I have made a special drink from my home planet. May it help the two of you unite in harmony for the rest of your days!” There was a general cheer from the crew and the crowd behind. Everyone present lifted their glasses in salute to the married couple.

Three seconds later, the ground was layered in unconscious bodies. Looking closer, Jaws saw that not all of them were just knocked out. A few of the beings were tuning colors, choking, and dying on the ground. Jaws was horrified. He had intended to help, but it seems that the Curasol was too much for the systems of the true natives of the planet Purefection. They simply had too much of the pollen in their system. The result of the Curasol fighting the poison was the elimination of the host.

Hysterically, he ran back to the craft, grabbed the transport from the medical quarters, cursing himself for not having prepared by leaving it closer to the entrance, and sprinted back to his teammates. Nobody noticed him piling the sleeping crew onto the cart and slowly pushing them back to the racecraft. As soon as he was inside, Jaws locked the door behind him by activating the lock-down procedure on the manual by the door.

He fearfully tried to revive each of them, one by one, but to no avail. He would just have to wait for the medicine to do its work and hope for the best. He went to the consuming quarters and prepared a tray with a mug of coffee for the team. He was sure they would want it upon waking.

All of the crew woke up at the same time, and in the same way. They were groggy, and slow to rise. Most of them were moaning in either discomfort from being dragged around, or from disorientation. They all remembered everything that happened, and talked about it for a while, while they drank the coffee, provided by Jaws.

“I can't believe it,” Drake said in an incredulous tone. “I just spent nearly all of my credits on that blasted planet!”

“Well,” laughed Kraus in response. “Far be it from me to turn down a free vacation house from the boss.”

“That's right, D.J.,” Sammy managed between guffaws. “It wouldn't be polite to turn down a gift from the greatest commander of all time.”

“I, for one, had the time of my life, and will never forget it!” Freddie turned to Priscilla in adoration. “I knew we were meant for each other, my love.”

“Oh my,” Priscilla responded, remembering that she had married this man. “Whatever came over me at the time, it helped me to find my true feelings. I'm actually glad for the poison.” She walked over and put an arm around Freddie's waist.

Bruvold merely sat by himself, munching on bread and meat. He was not happy with the way the pollen had affected him, and did not want to face Drake.

“In case you all don't remember, we still haven't won the race.” Jaws looked extremely proud of himself as he reminded the crew of their purpose.

“All right, everyone,” Drake barked. “Party time is over. Get back to your stations or work, and let's win this thing for real.”

Every one of the crew was refreshed after the sleep and coffee, and they were all equally happy to get back to the Full Circle Six. They all were excited, knowing that they still held first place, as the delay was only two total days.

In the navigation center, the team worked smoothly. They all felt a little closer to each other after their experiences, and all of the tension had been alleviated. Drake set course, and they took off, once again sure of themselves and their victory. The journey was almost over now.

Drake was still flustered from the events on Purefection. He still could not believe that something as simple as a flower had held him under such complete control that he would spend his entire savings on property. Perhaps he could retire there, and rent out the other properties, he thought to himself. It seemed strange that a wedding had occurred. Drake had never heard of a man and wife on a team before, but did not have any objections to it, so long as the personal relationship did not hinder the professional one. Besides, he thought that the closer the team was to each other, the better their chances were of not only winning the race, but of having a winning record even after Drake was gone.

D
rake stood alone, smiling to himself, in the navigational quarters, next to the C.E. station. He had sent the others on a five-hour siesta to rest up for the stretch run. They had been running full strength for a month since the Purefection disaster, and the crew could use the rest. Drake felt he would have plenty of time to sleep once he was done with this drug-out race. He made sure the controls were all on auto and the engines were set on three quarters, and then Drake looked deep into his holochart gazers. He found what he was looking for and smiled even broader. It was the Clyme system, first of three benchmarks signaling the end of the Full Circle Six was drawing near. The Clyme system was also home of the great Clymenian black hole. Drake had always wanted to see this wonderment, but had never been to this part of the dimension, until now. The hole was much too powerful to do a fly-by, but Drake was determined to at least get close enough for one visual when his racecraft entered the appropriate system. It was rumored the Clymenian hole had a gravity pull ten times the power of even the strongest of engines, and Drake had no intention of testing these rumors. Nobody knew exactly what happened to crafts that were sucked into its massive hole. Some would say it transported the crafts to a different system; this conclusion was reached based on the lack of debris. Others say the crafts were undoubtedly crushed to dust, but the only thing for certain is that every craft that has ever crossed the threshold of the Clymenian black hole is unaccounted for.

There is a memorial describing these incidents on planet Clyme, however, Drake was not planning on making another planetary stop. The number thirteen was fully stocked with fuel and was in an adequate enough state to make it to the finish. The Clyme system was less than two weeks away, and soon Drake would be able to establish the second point of reference in his gazers, the Tibot system, which contains the famous water planet Tibot. The core of the planet was not water, but Drake had heard the entire surface was one big ocean. The third and final benchmark he would locate is the Fazeir system, including the planet Fazeir otherwise known as the last planetary stop before the finish line. Fazeir, being one of the largest planets in the known dimension, could easily come into Drake's view before Tibot.

Drake lowered his head to study the scanners. Everything was running rather smoothly. He began going over their status, still keeping one eye on the scanners. The number thirteen was currently in the lead, the crew would soon be rested, they were approaching the last leg, all weapons were stocked and at the ready, plenty of fuel, and they even had one last time disrupter at their disposal that they could utilize. All in all, Drake couldn't have dreamed of being in this situation on a number of different occasions, especially considering they started in dead last. He left the scanners to check on the remaining stations, and thoughts of his looming retirement crept in. Drake had no inkling of what he would do post Full Circle Six. All he had ever known was space racing, and to do something else would definitely feel awkward. He remembered his latest prize and quickly reached inside his leather jacket, to pull out the long, slender case. The red key caught his eye, when he opened the case, and he knew then what he was going to do, after retiring. He would discover the mysteries surrounding the strange, unknown, red key. Drake would learn as much as he could about dimensional keys, and explore the surfaces of planets that were new to him. It was not inconceivable to think that he might help map the rest of this dimension and maybe even some others. First he would have to win the Full Circle Six to prove he wasn't a limited navigator, like so many considered him. Drake slipped the case back in its secure pocket, and took a seat in his tremendously comfortable navigation chair. It felt like a weight being lifted off of Drake's shoulders to finally be sure of what he was going to do with the remainder of his existence.

Drake was lost in daydreams about dimensional keys and mapping when he got an urge for some coffee. He was just about to get up and get a cup when Sammy entered the navigation center carrying two large mugs.

“Too excited to sleep much and knew you would be awake, so I thought I'd bring up some refreshment,” Sammy said, holding a cup out to Drake.

“You read my mind, Sammy boy.” Drake snatched the mug up and took a medium guzzle, smacking his lips in delight afterwards.

“How long till we go full speed?” Sammy asked. He couldn't wait to get to the end of the race, take a small, much needed vacation, and prepare to take over navigational command duties of the number thirteen.

“Roughly two hours.” Drake took another gulp and continued, “ I've already mapped out the Clyme system. We should be there in a couple of weeks … you think we'll win?”

“No sweat champ. Looks like you could use another cup, huh?” Sammy couldn't help but chuckle at his commander, who had emptied his mug upside down into his mouth, during the response. Drake chortled back and nodded, then got to his feet to go refill his mug in the consummation quarters, with Sammy strutting beside him.

Surprisingly, the two found Juhaen making coffee in almost a sleepwalk, when they entered the consuming quarters. Drake did not expect the F.B.R. to go beyond his duties and put in extra work, considering he was currently the lowest paid member of the team, due to his wages being cut.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Drake said loudly, startling Juhaen. Sammy let out a wail that was meant to be a laugh, while refilling his mug.

“Oh … hi, I … I just want this thing to be done with. I've been making repairs non-stop since you sent us to our sleeping modules. I thought I'd make some fresh coffee, before everyone woke up and drank it all. If anything goes wrong, it won't be my fault, Sir.” Juhaen said, continuing to fill the dispensers.

“You might end up with full pay yet. Keep it up, but don't be late to the navigation center and make sure you're alert.” Drake actually patted Juhaen on the back in recognition of doing more the he was asked, something he usually reserved for Sammy or Kraus. “Sit down and have a cup with us. You're gonna need it.” Drake gestured for Juhaen to serve himself a coffee and take a break.

When Juhaen had finished what he was doing and settled into a seat to join the other two, Drake initiated a friendly conversation that did not involve the Full Circle Six, but of Drake's retirement plans.

“Tell me again what you heard about the red key and anything you might have left out.” Drake addressed Juhaen, who became more awake at the mentioning of the fabled key.

“It's a legend in some parts, like I said before, but no one I've met has known its origin. The crystal legend talks of one hundred dimension doors leading to the original dimensions, and one red door that leads to the last dimension, number one hundred one. Normal dimensional keys cannot open all of these doors. The only thing else I remember is the red door was created for some kind of balance. Don't ask me what kind, but it is said if you're not allowed in it will crush you.” Juhaen looked deep in thought for a few moments and finished, “That's all I've got, it's sometimes referred to as the demon door, but that's probably because it's red and it's rumored to kill.”

“One hundred dimensions?” Drake looked flabbergasted.

“One hundred one.” Juhaen corrected the commander.

Sammy was no longer smiling, but was staring blankly. He didn't understand why they were having this discussion right now. It would make more sense to be talking about the finish of the race, Sammy believed, so he didn't say anything and just sipped his coffee silently, in thought about his upcoming press conference, announcing his promotion.

“You believe this garbage?” Drake asked, although it was tough to tell whom. Sammy acted as if he hadn't heard. Juhaen obliged and answered after it was apparent Sammy wasn't going to.

“Well, it is only a legend. Myth if you will. I had never seen, nor heard of, any proof, until you mentioned something about the red key, before the start of the race. It kinda fits … I guess.” Juhaen had not personally viewed the key, but Drake did recall a number one hundred one inscribed on the red key. It was hard to imagine, though, that so many dimensions existed, when he hadn't even so much as glimpsed half of this one. It was at least something to go on and Drake was getting excited about investigating the uses of the red key. He forced himself to suppress his excitement and concentrate on the task at hand, finishing the race.

“We better get back to the N.C., nobody there to watch the scanners.” Drake said, rising to his feet. He and Sammy filled the mugs up again, and left Juhaen to finish his own.

Sammy and Drake were running routine weapon check-ups when Kraus showed up sporting a mug and a loaf of bread. He sat down at the engines station and began sucking down his breakfast, hardly pausing for breath.

“You're up … Good.” Drake proclaimed. “Sammy, go find Juhaen and get him on shields, you can operate scanners. Kraus can stay where he's at and we'll be set to go full speed again.” There were enough members awake to man the essential stations and Drake was ecstatic he wouldn't have to wait until the entire allotted sleeping time was expired.

Sammy and Juhaen settled into their pre-ordered positions around the time Kraus was putting the last of his meal inside his chops. Kraus took a gulp of coffee to wash down his big mouthful of food and maximized the engines, without the need of being ordered to do so. Drake activated manual navigation and began following his plotted course to the Clyme system.

“We have a recorded contact here from the number two.” Sammy announced bitterly.

“What? When? I was just at the scanners before you came in.” Drake was absolutely positive there were no messages prior to him going down to the consummation quarters.

“Around eighteen minutes ago. Looks short. You want me to play it? Sammy asked, calmly scratching his elbow.

“Alright, let's hear what the scum has to say.” Drake normally didn't listen to contacts from rival racers; nothing prosperous ever seemed to come from it. The message was most likely misleading information or unfriendly banter, either way at least it was brief.

“Iwillbewaitingforyou.”
Sammy replayed the less than two second contact a few times, just to be sure of what it said. The message came out almost in one syllable making it a little difficult to decipher.

“Anybody get that?” Juhaen had a disgusted look on his face, as if he had smelled something rotten.

“It said, I will be waiting for you,” grunted Drake in a dark tone.

“Well, what does it mean? Have they passed us?” Juhaen asked, now looking edgy.

“I don't know. What do you think Sammy?” Drake was not going to allow himself to make rash decisions based on a contact, but if Oblize had indeed passed the number thirteen, his obligation was to get the position back by any means.

“Anything's possible out here,” Sammy answered then paused for thought and continued, “At any rate, Oblize isn't going to wait anywhere for anyone, he was probably talking about the victory platform or trying to coax us to race on the cautious side so he can catch up with us.”

“He could be thinking about revenge. He knows we have an ice cannon just like his brother had and he might think Drake is responsible for his death. If my brother's murderer were racing me it would not be beyond me to strategically wait and ambush. If Oblize were thinking this way and he succeeded in taking us out, he wouldn't have to worry about us winning anything anytime and he would get revenge. Two goals with one gun.” Kraus added with a stern demeanor.

“That is plausible, I don't think we should discount a surprise attack.” Drake was maintaining manual navigation for the duration and although he wasn't thrilled about it, he would now have to wake up the rest of the crew to secure defensive positions. Drake activated the intercom and addressed the slumbering teammates. “All crew report to the navigation center for duties. We have no more time for napping. Repeat, all crew report to the navigation center.”

“If he was going to destroy us wouldn't he have done it earlier when he supposedly passed us? We must have looked like an exceptionally easy target.” Juhaen agreed with Sammy about Oblize referring to the end of the race. Kraus was ready for this comment and responded.

“That's a good point, but there could be a number of reasons he didn't. He might have had to do a planetary stop, he could have been moving at hyper speed, or he may have appeared in front of us from the result of a time disrupter. It could all be nonsense but best not to discount an angry racer scenario.”

Juhaen looked as if he was going to retort, but said nothing. Freddie arm and arm with Priscilla came sleepily up the ramp followed closely by the disgruntled looking Bruvold and the big-nosed Jaws. They all stood, just inside the navigation center, looking like they recently returned from a natural disaster.

“Go get yourselves some breakfast, then hurry back here. Don't forget to feed the prisoner, Bruvold.” Drake gave the tired bunch a quick glance and jerk of the head. The group obeyed at once without a word and upon returning they were all holding coffee mugs and livelier expressions.

“Freddie, stop brushing Priscilla's hair and get on engines. Jaws your on scanners, move it. Sammy goes ahead and slide over to shields. Juhaen and Bruvold, each of you, pick a cannon. Kraus, take special weapons, and I want you to be ready to go down and reload if need be.” Drake noticed Priscilla was already at the life support station so he didn't directly address her. “I called you up early because there's a chance we're not in the lead anymore and Boxton may be waiting somewhere to attack us. We know this from a recorded contact sent to us by the number two. My guess is they used hyper-speed to pass us and as a result could only leave a fleeting message. Our best bet is to do the same thing. If anything, it will put us less than a week away from the Clyme system and that much closer to our goal. What do you think people?” Drake would have taken silence as affirmative, but the crew made that notion moot.