The Full Circle Six (6 page)

“Bruvold, go find the M.S.C., Ouldsid Uciferi and escort him to isolation,” Drake commanded darkly. “I should've locked him up when he took his own break,” he added more to himself than Bruvold.

“Yes, yes am doing now.” Bruvold began searching the race-craft for the new prisoner.

“The rest of you start cleaning this mess up, we'll have guests soon. I'm going out alone,” said Drake miserably.

The first thing Drake saw when exiting the loading zone, were three suns beaming down from above. The second was a large group of four armed beings, applauding and expressing their gratitude of Future Fuels and the number thirteen. He now understood Folders joke about extra hands, and almost smiled.

Drake was going through an emotional roller coaster the likes of which he never could have imagined. The Full Circle Six was truly a testament to his strength and endurance. He had experienced glory at the demise of Ced Oblize, depression from his dead friend, and now appreciation for the swarm of alien support, in successive periods. Drake wasn't sure how much more he could take, but recognized that he must stay strong for his team, if not for himself.

Several of the four-armed beasts approached Drake, and extended one hand to greet the popular racer. The Armosan that Drake selected to meet first had a firm grip and, like all the others, was wearing only wrappings around his waist that drug to the dry desert-like ground. The Armosans in general all looked different, however, in size, hair color, skin tone, and age. Drake continued to dish out firm handshakes until they seemed satisfied and one of them spoke.

“On behalf of the people of Armos, welcome. We will be more than happy to assist you in any way. On one, small condition,” said the Armosan, in a deep hoarse voice.

“What's the condition? Drake asked, expecting the worst.

“We require you to set up an autograph session, right over there.” The creature pointed to a nearby table complete with markers.

“Not a problem,” Drake said with liberation. “I'll be right back.” He hurried back into the racecraft up to his personal quarters, to retrieve a box of images. Drake always kept this material on hand, for occasions that were usually initiated by Future Fuels.

He returned to the surface, ignoring crewmembers attempts to converse with him, and sat himself at the designated area. This session might just be what Drake needed to get his mind off of the upcoming funeral. He was thinking that dealing with all of these fans would put him in a better mood. They all appeared so blissful, as if this was the greatest day of their existence. He needed some of that joy to rub off. He thought of his daydream on the victory platform, with the feeling of absorbing power, and wished mightily it could be so.

Drake was just beginning to get lost in his signings, when he noticed the flash of a dimensional door rip open a portal in the distance. A stranger appeared from the door, before it disintegrated. Drake knew this was a stranger to this planet, because of the lack of appendages. The stranger observed Drake and began forcing his way through the queue of natives towards him. As he moved closer, Drake could distinguish more features of the intruder. He had bright, blue, cold, calculating eyes and a knowing smirk, with blond hair in a crew cut that stood up about ten inches. He was approximately five foot five without the hair. His weight was misleading though, as he moved like he was on a moon with little gravitational restriction. The male specimen was wearing furs of undiscovered animals, teeth and all. The mysterious being, upon reaching the autograph table, spoke in a taunting, deceitful voice.

“Hello commander, how nice to see you again. I have a few questions to ask,” he stated.

“Who are you?” Drake inquired.

“What do you know about that red key, specifically how to use it?” The man ignored Drake's question and asked his own.

“How do you know about that key?” Drake was beginning to feel uneasy.

“I acquired it from you. Now tell me how to use it.” The man was not removing his smirk as he spoke.

“You're talking nonsense. I haven't figured it out anyway,” Drake said anxiously.

“That's a shame,” he laughed, before reaching into his furs and then holding his hand out in front of him. He looked straight at Drake and continued, “Oh … I almost forgot … let's see … what was it. Oh yeah, live always in space and time. See you later, you're later that is.” With a twist of his wrist another dimensional door opened and he stepped through it, while waving goodbye.

Drake was stunned; it was the phrase of the fallen. How could this guy know about the key let alone the phrase? How could he have the information that Croxon was dead just an hour after it happened? What was going on? Was he to meet this guy in the future? Maybe he was another racer, but if that was the case, Drake would have surely recognized him, or his racecraft would have been reported. Was he a crazy fan with a subscription to the racing newsletter? That wouldn't explain the phrase. The phrase had to be a complete coincidence. Then again, he himself might be going absolutely mad. One thing was for sure, that man had dimensional keys and had just used two.

Drake dispensed out a few more images, then left the box to go board his racecraft. He had to go talk to Sammy about what just occurred. Drake found Sammy instructing Armosans in the main corridor and asked him if he would come have a discussion in the consuming quarters. Sammy agreed and together they went to get a coffee.

Drake drank a cup of coffee, while recounting the story of what happened on the surface of Armos to his most trusted acquaintance. He found it difficult not to sound insane, but gave Sammy every detail.

“It's like you said, an obsessed fan.” Sammy had some meat now and began to eat it.

“But what about the phrase?” Drake asked.

“It was probably in a recent newsletter. You know how stuff leaks out,” suggested Sammy, before dispensing out some bread. “Merely coincidence.” He confirmed Drake's initial opinion.

If in his usual state of mind, Drake may still have been a little perturbed, but as it was, there was quite a significant amount on his mind at the time. The loss of a good crewman, and more than satisfactory companion, was beginning to weigh more heavily upon him. He still had to interrogate Uciferi, and didn't know if he should do it before or after the memorial for his friend. What could he do to honor old Croxy? The very thought of ending it all with the traditional funeral and farewell brought back a little of the repressed rage and sorrow in his mid-section. Feeling that he owed the recently deceased, Drake came to a conclusion fairly expeditiously. He would build Croxon's eternal resting box with his own hands. He would select the markings and inscription on the exterior, as well. Looking across the consuming module to Sammy, he also deduced that he would not be handling this emotional project on his own. Sammy was not only Drake's friend, but was a good buddy to Croxy as well.

“I think I want to build the coffin … would you be able to assist?” Drake dispensed another cup of coffee, already knowing the answer to his question.

“There's wood on Armos, I can gather up enough to do the job after I check up on the repairs,” Sammy hid a small smile as he continued, “I figured you want to talk to the isolated one anyway.” Sammy knew Drake better than anyone, and he did not envy the new, possibly former, crewmember.

Drake proceeded to march vehemently, carrying his cup of coffee, behind the consuming quarters to isolation chamber one. Drake and Bruvold were the only two onboard that had an entrance card to either of the chambers. He opened the cell, with a slide of the card, and began questioning Ouldsid harshly.

“How do you explain yourself, worthless waste of the Land Of Lazy?” Pointing his finger into the face of a very terrified Uciferi, who was not even quite sure why he was locked up like a common thief in the first place, Drake didn't give him a moment to answer the irrational questioning. “Do you confess to the murder of Iriarte Croxon? Do you admit to ordering yourself to a refreshing cup of coffee during a battle for our very lives? The whole racecraft falling apart had to wait for your break? Well here, I've personally delivered to you a fresh cup of hot, reviving coffee!” Drake then hurled the hot coffee he had brought along at his prisoner, scalding his face, neck, and the exposed area of the hands he desperately flung up to his face in a feeble effort to protect himself.

“Are you enjoying your coffee, murdering scum? Has it given your coward stomach the courage to confess? You can sit here for the remainder of the race and consider it! I will not be lenient with this case. If you think me unfair not to hear your pathetic pleas, take it up with Croxy!” Drake furiously slammed the cell's door, storming away from the isolation quarters before the pitiful Uciferi could make any sort of statement toward his behalf. Still baffled by this turn of events, Ouldsid crawled to the coffee cup lying on its side and, weeping distraughtly, attempted to slurp up the remains at the bottom.

Outside, in the docking and overhaul section of Armos, Sammy was watching in complete awe at the speed of which these funny little inhabitants carried out his orders for shield repair. He heard Drake approaching from the right, but could not rip his eyes away from the spectacle of service. He, Sammy, didn't know if he was ready for what he knew Drake had come out here for. It was still difficult to get over the fact that Croxy was dead and would never again inject him with that magic in the needles. Showing weakness to Drake Judge was something that never really got away from you. Even in an understandable and extenuating circumstance, the captain would note and remember said display of weakness, and that would not bode well at all. Whatever the outcome, Sammy knew that he could not deny his friend the tribute filled privilege of constructing the time honored capsule themselves, as opposed to using a pre-manufactured model.

“So, where do we start looking?” Drake asked.

“I've sent a couple of the locals to find the best wood making trees and fashion eight sheets measured to my specifications. We shouldn't have a problem slapping it together,” Sammy answered.

“Where can we build? Have you secured a private area?” It seemed to Drake that the closer they were getting to having to start this, the more likely he was to lose emotional control. He resolved in that moment not to show even the slightest sign of weakness, fear, or grief, though it was the only person he trusted. Also, he did not expect Samelak to express any of the same faults. Lack of focus and determination would keep them from what could be a much needed victory on Drake's road to everlasting glory, and any form of failing that could cause a deviation from this road would be dealt with.

“Look around, D.J., it's all desert, no cover. That's why I sent these guys out to get the wood,” Sammy turned to face Drake and continued, “If you want privacy or seclusion, we could always trek out an impossible distance to follow without being seen. Or we could even ask the Armosans to transport us to a building they might spare.”

“Never mind,” Drake said with a sigh “We'll use the rear of the ship where the launch booster will give us some cover from these insufferable suns.” With that said, Drake began moving toward his racecraft and bellowing at the four armed Armosans to clear out for the day.

Sammy watched his last friend with his special type of Sammy smile and shook his head. This would be an ordeal. He had been through a lot with this captain, but had never been in quite a poignant state of affairs as losing the other oldest member of their team to the hands of death. However, Sammy shared a differing opinion on where to place the blame of Croxy's death than Drake. True, Uciferi was wrong in taking the coffee break at that time, but there was no way that he could have somehow prevented the blood fountain of their beloved friend. No, the M.S.C. was not responsible, but Sammy could not convey this fact to Drake while considering the driver's current mood in the matter.

Within the hour, the two companions were hard at work on their tribute to the lost healer of old. Though the launch booster did provide some cover from the planet's three suns, the heat was still more than stifling.

The job was not as easy as Sammy had initially anticipated. Not only did they have to contend with the heat, but also it proved near to impossible to fasten this type of wood together by conventional means. Drake became infuriated, which, expectedly, agitated Sammy and caused him to lose concentration and, on one occasion, bash his own hand with one of the tools borrowed from the Armosan craftsmen. They toiled laboriously for two hours before Sammy finally came up with a solution to the connecting problem.

Carving several notches at conflicting junctures in each slab of wood, he measured using his eyes, with precision at least equal to any measuring device, so that when integrated together, the notches had to be forced into a snug fit.

When all the hard work of putting the casket together was complete, Drake began inscribing an epitaph on the cover of this personal token of respect. Never before had a captain built with his own hands, the sarcophagus of a dead team member, let alone include an epitaph to be displayed on the outside. What Drake had done was unprecedented in all of racing history. The inscription was a farewell, it read:

HERE LIES OLD CROXY

BEST MEDICAL OPERATOR I EVER KNEW

SO IT IS WITH YOUR BODY

YOUR DREAMS DRIFT FOREVER

NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN

Instantaneously after finishing, Drake stood and headed back to the loading zone without one glance back to Sammy or what they had just created. The horrible abomination of reality had settled over Drake and he did not feel he could carry the casket inside. He would send Bruvold out to help with that unthinkable chore of putting the body to rest and preparing it for final remembrance. Sammy broke the moment the hatch closed behind Drake. Uncontrollably, he wept in giant, hoarse, and gasping sobs. No one was around to see or hear him and he had every intention of taking full advantage of the time alone to vent some of his own rage and grief. Barely two minutes had gone by when he began to pull himself out of the blissful remorse process and regain composure.