The Full Circle Six (7 page)

Just then, Bruvold emerged from the racecraft and heartily greeted Sammy. “Captain is telling me to go with Sammy. I say is good. Sammy is real man … not for wearing dresses … is good for fighting and is strong, no weak.”

“Yeah … look, just take that end, and I'll lead the way,” Sammy said, dismissing Bruvold's boldness with a shrug.

In his personal quarters, Drake Judge prepared the eulogy speech he would give before uttering the dreaded phrase which would trigger the release of one that he loved into outer space to coast along aimlessly. When he vacated the quarters he still had not finished, but planned to speak the rest as it came to him. Old Croxy had always been straight with him.

Upon his entrance to the navigational command center, Drake ordered everyone to their positions to prepare for launch. He had previously had a gift of thanks made up of spare parts and various different other worldly items for the Armosans and had sent this out. The funeral would have to be quick so as to not lose any time, and this burned Drake even more, but nevertheless, he ordered Freddie to engage engines and launch booster, and Sammy to employ shields as he began preparations to navigate them toward the proper coordinates.

The funeral service was held in the recreational quarters where there was a great space of the wall made of transparent alloy that would permit them to watch the primary jettison into eternity. This would prove to be the most heart-breaking, soul wrenching experience of the current journey for all who were present. Drake entered the room and all fell silent. The coffin containing the body of Iriarte Croxon was in the ejection chamber.

“We are here to mourn the passing of an exceptional crew member and an amazing doctor who could cure anything with a shot.” Drake began. “Croxy was more valuable to me and this team than most of you here combined. Its death will not be for nothing. We will use this as a springboard to our victory.” He reached down to press the button that would forever remove his most trusted physician from his life. Nobody witnessed the single tear that became visible as it slowly trickled out from under Drake's famous holochart gazers, and splashed onto the floor of the recreation quarters.

“Live always in space and time.” The mourning race captain stated clearly, and with pure respect, in the manner it was written in which to be spoken.

The crew watched silently as Croxon floated out of view. Bruvold then walked over to a cabinet and pulled out some more of his dark, smoking beverage.

“Is good time to drink when there is friend dying,” he said while passing out the infusion. Most of the crew turned it down, but Drake, Kraus, and Sammy each took Bruvold's offering.

“To old Croxy.” The four of them said as a toast. They all polished off the substance in one long guzzle.

“Is good, yes? Is good for warming of the face.” Bruvold smiled proudly as he poured four more glasses for a second round. “Is good for race. Bruvold is knowing.” He said this last with his brow furrowed and his finger in the air as if making a profound point.

It didn't take long for Bruvold's home planet cocktail to take effect on those who had ingested it and soon, the four were choosing sides for a partnered round of friendly sparring. This meant that they were drunk and wanted to beat each other senseless, using nothing but brute strength and sheer power of will, until all of them could hardly move to get back to their personal quarters to sleep it off.

U
pon waking, Drake was suffering a tremendous headache and nausea so badly that he did not know if the cleansing quarters would be close enough. For a split second, he caught himself thinking about going to medical and getting a shot to relieve him of this distress, but was now sure that the current M.O. would not allow such a procedure. Luck, it seemed, was turning for Drake this particular morning for when he turned to the door, he saw lying beside it Croxy's old medical case. Someone had delivered this while he was passed out. He wondered who it was that could have put it inside his door. There was sure to be a cure inside the case. Drake did not pretend that he knew what was in these syringes or what they did respectively, but he had been injected by his healer for many years and had a good idea of which colors he needed to make himself feel better. If he failed and made his condition worse, he would insist that Priscilla give him treatment without unnecessary explanation.

He picked up a blue and a red needle and shot them both simultaneously into his hips. The familiarity of the small, high-pitched hiss filled his ears like a forgotten symphony. A deep moan of relief escaped as the remedies washed through him. He now felt fully prepared to take the helm and get this thing moving fast again.

Drake vacated his quarters into the navigation center and ordered the engines to full power. He strapped himself in his comfy chair and started to think about Folders and how he had pulled the number twenty-six racecraft out of the low position it was in. Drake wanted a fresh start, too and decided to follow Folders lead with the time disrupter. Before he could put this idea into action, Jaws reported an incoming visual contact message from league officials. It was another update on their current position and would likely make Drake even more prone to using another of his special tricks.

“The message says we are currently in eleventh place, so I've been thinking maybe we should use one of our time disrupters. What do you think, Kraus?” Drake was going to go through with the time disruption whether Kraus thought it was ok or not.

“Sounds like a plan, boss, just need to cut power to main thrusters, and give me some time,” Kraus answered. Both men knew that in order for the time disrupters to be effective, all engines must be stopped and then came the risky part of the equation. They didn't have a clue as to what would be occupying this space in the past. They could end up right in the middle of a craft war for all they knew. The disrupter will help them gain position by doing two separate parts of race during the same time period. Their past vessel would be doing whatever they were around thirty days ago, while their current ship would be able to proceed from this point in space in the same time period. This would essentially skip thirty days of the race. Once the past ship caught up with the point in time and space where the time disrupter was used, their current ship would no longer be in that thirty day time period and thus be farther in the race.

Drake held faith in his ability to dodge most obstacles that may be placed in his way, but as always with a disrupter, a lot was left to chance. He hoped this trick would improve his place to at least the top five. He turned to face each of his crew in turn, and ordered the activation.

A powerful jerking and whirling overtook the entire racecraft and anything that was not firmly held in place was thrown about the interior, leaving jumbles of indiscernible garbage. A sense of dizziness and disorientation slammed the number thirteen team as they were pulled through the rip in time itself.

The actual traveling through time didn't take as long as it seemed, for the jerking continued long after the time skip was over. Asteroids were pummeling the shields and thrusters. They had landed directly in an asteroid storm. Drake casually moved his controls in an effort to find a somewhat clear path, to absorb minimal damage.

The ship dipped low suddenly, as an asteroid nearly half the size of the craft itself crashed into the front. Drake pulled out of the dive and immediately turned a barrel roll to avoid a series of potentially deadly meteors. He then took initiative and pulled the racecraft up in a spectacular weaving ascent, only to dive again with even more extravagant maneuvering. After a quick left fake, ninety-degree right turn, he ducked the nose low, scarcely avoiding an asteroid big enough to finish them all. Just as abruptly as it began, it was over. Nothing but stars and skies were in front. Drake demanded a shield report.

“Shields are as follows: zero percent, seventeen percent, three percent,” Despite the shield situation, Jaws sounded impressed. “Great handling, cap,” he said to Drake with adoration in his eyes.

“Wonderful … just absolutely gorgeous. I should have expected something like this would happen. All of our shields, wasted like so much cannon fodder in a foolish attempt at a greedy position. My luck in life.” The dejection and frustration in Drake's voice was as unmistakable as his normally authority. He completely disregarded the compliment from Jaws.

Drake was already scanning his holochart gazers for another planetary stop. It had to be a good distance, but also a popular stop for all racecrafts. The speed and efficiency of a well-trained support crew was imperative. Thought of another unplanned stop made Drake angry, so he decided to get a coffee while he mapped out the course. He switched the controls off of manual once more.

On his way through the consuming corridor, Drake found exactly the planet he was looking for. After the coffee break, he would set course and speed onward. A satisfaction stole its way into Drake's mind while dispensing his well-deserved coffee. He felt confident that he could win this event. The very moment the cup hit his lips, sweet revitalizing aroma filling his nostrils with the scent he most treasured, there was a gigantic crash and again, the craft was jerked significantly. The coffee splashed everywhere on and off of Drake. Drake himself was knocked to the floor in the tremor and his temper reached beyond its limit.

“What in the hell was that?” He roared out, pressing the intercom button that would connect him to the navigational quarters.

“Sir, there was a straggler asteroid trailing the storm. It hit us with full force. We're down to ten percent of one shield.” Sammy's tone indicated he sympathized with Drake. “It also knocked us off course, you better get up here.”

“On my way,” and with that, Drake veritably ran back to his command post.

Plopping down into the control chair, he flipped the switches giving him manual control and sought out their site on his gazers. Without warning, Drake felt the distinct sensation of entering the orbit of a gravitational pull. There was a planet here that was not on his holochart gazers.

“Engines to impulse power, now!” Drake exclaimed, and then continued, “It's going to get rough, here, boys and girls. We're closer to a stop than we thought.” Just then, it came into complete view as they circled to a place in orbit that would permit the full sight of the planet against a backdrop of total blackness.

The planet was so white that it was almost blinding to look at in such utter dark. They sped out of orbit and into the strange new world's atmosphere, morphing from a speeding bullet into falling dead weight. Drake was scarcely able to pull level with the horizon, but it was to no avail. The racecraft crunched the surface and stuck on impact. Half buried in ice, the force of stopped momentum rendered escape improbable.

Everything was ice. The outer portion of the number thirteen was steadily freezing itself into the solid mass of frozen matter that was this new discovery. This was audible inside the ship to all but Freddie, who was knocked out during collision. There was no power running whatsoever. Dimly, the cries of Uciferi could be heard echoing through the main corridor.

Drake was the first to move. Without speaking, he forced his way over, around, and through wreckage to and out of the loading zone and into freezing temperatures so extreme, he dived back inside and closed the hatch manually. Only one second exposed told Drake all he needed to know about how much to bundle up when leaving the security shell of the racecraft.

He changed his course to the life support systems, instead. When he came within sight, Drake told Uciferi to quiet his whining or isolation would seem to be a vacation. Drake threw the switch on the back up life support box, and everything hummed back to life. He then returned to the navigation center to see the condition of his crew.

Priscilla was bringing Freddie back to the world of conscious. Bruvold was wasting no time in shaming Freddie for his weakness. Jaws sat alone in his station, cradling his oversized sniffer with one lacerated hand. Sammy seemed to be doing the best. Watching everyone, he was smiling his smile, but Drake knew him to be calculating a way to get out of this. Kraus was trying to be all over the place at one time, starting repairs that would take a long time, and moving to small, easy fixes, all at random. Juhaen was holding a piece of broken dispenser tube, gazing thoughtfully at nothing.

“Everyone listen up,” Drake spoke loudly, but he was not yelling. “We are in a very grave situation. We're all going to die, just like poor old Croxy.”

Juhaen snapped his attention toward Drake. Jaws sat with his mouth agape, dumbfounded. Priscilla, who was in the process of pinning the recently revived Freddie's head to the ground because of Freddie trying to kiss her neck, stood so quickly it was a blur. Kraus had never heard his captain speak this way, and that brought him out of his panic, but maybe started something worse. Bruvold marched to Drake's side, crossed his arms and proclaimed that he was not for dying. Sammy couldn't believe his ears. Drake Judge did not know the meaning of surrender, unless he was forcing it. What could make him think death was imminent? The smile was gone from his lips with the same speed the color drained from his face.

“Cap?” Jaws tried to think of what to ask, but nothing came to mind. Drake, saying they were all going to die seemed like a dream to him. Nothing could frighten Jaws more than the prospect of his own death.

“I opened the hatch to the loading zone for no more than one second and I could feel the frost in my nose. We are at least fifty percent buried in what looks like ice. The racecraft is heavily damaged. Now, are you ready for the bad news? This planet is uninhabited. There is no sun, which means no light but what we have with us. I'm telling you people, we are all going to perish here on this block of frozen water!” At this last outburst, Drake turned and sped for his personal quarters. He would no longer face his crew. His decision-making skills were deteriorating rapidly with every choice. He felt almost as if he were going insane. Out of greed for points in overall standings, Drake had doomed his entire crew, his only friends. Locking himself in his room, he scrambled his brain trying to come up with a plan.

In less than five minutes, there was a knock. Drake intended to ignore whoever it was. This was not the time for interruptions. The knock came more persistently, this time accompanied by a voice.

“Captain, I must speak with you,” Juhaen pleaded through the door with anxiety. “I need your help to make it work.”

Assuming that the food and beverage regulator was referring to the broken delivery dispenser tube he was holding earlier, Drake floundered angrily to his door and opened it.

With a scowl he asked sarcastically, “Is this about getting us out of here?”

“Actually, I think it could be,” Juhaen replied calmly.

Drake wasn't ready for that response. Startled, he took hold of the front of Juhaen's work suit and pulled him inside. This was the first instance in which any crewmember had ever been in the captain's personal quarters, and Drake was vaguely intrigued that it happened to be a new member.

“What have you got?” Drake asked harshly.

“Well, I don't know how to make it work,” he began, holding the tube out in front of him like a peace offering. “I was thinking we could shoot fire through these tubes, somehow.”

Drake started to contemplate what the little man was telling him. In theory, it sounded good, all they needed was something to propel heat out of one end of the tube, yet still have a way to hold onto it and direct the aim. He was beginning to trust that he might actually be able to make this work. He also believed that Juhaen was soon to be the highest paid food and beverage regulator in the league.

Drake and Juhaen headed back to the navigation center to tell everyone the plan and see what ideas they could come up with. Drake had already figured out how they might be able to hold the tubes. In the loading zone was a quantity of impermeable alloy that was malleable enough to shape around the perimeter of anything, compliments of Bruvold, who had brought many fine objects of fortification and assault.

“We think there may be a way,” Drake spoke as soon as he stepped from the corridor into the room. “Juhaen has brought up a good point. We can use the delivery tubes to harness and direct heat to melt the ice. I want everyone to gather all the thermal gear on board and wear as much as possible. I'll find lights for everybody. We have to get main power back to the ship, or we're all going to freeze before the end of the night.”

“There's a lot of extra fuel we can burn to make the heat, but how are we going to burn it in the tube without losing all of our skin?” Sammy asked.

“The canisters that were given to us by the league containing the race uniform you are wearing are hollow. Punch holes in one end of two canisters, fill them with fuel, and then tie them together. Connect hoses from the hole in the fuel tank to the tube and cover half of the tube with that special metal that Bruvold brought with him. When you're finished with that, put straps on the canisters so it will fit on your back. Then bring it to me. While I look for lights for everyone, I'll come up with something that creates sparks to ignite the fuel.” As Drake issued these commands, he saw the potential was better than he thought.