High Octane

Cycles Go ‘Round [Chapter 14]

Vallas Fax was a very rich locale, more city than planet, and the locals more vapid black holes of personality than people. Well, the taxi driver was at least a decent being. Why a taxi, you ask?

The space dock worker had laughed at me when I began to take my hoverbike down from the storage compartment of my ship. “Do you really think you’re going to get around here on that?” I think he held some general concern, but I could also sense something festering in his intention.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” I asked with extra niceness in my voice, knowing the same folks would be watching over my ship.

Another worker shrugged and glanced up at the skyways. The air above the space dock was clear but the edges of the bordering city blocks were inundated with countless flying craft, crossing each other’s paths in all vectors. “Well, depends on how well you think you’ll be able to be seen. Does it have a loud horn, maybe?’

“No horn to speak of,” I sighed and grunted, shoving the bike back up into the compartment. “What sort of public transportation is available here?”

After telling the taxi driver where my destination was, he set off, maneuvering the controlled chaos of the skyways better than I maneuver myself among the extroverts at a party on my way to the snacks. He glanced back at me through his crooked and otherwise unused rear-view mirror. “You’re traveling pretty light for the part of town you’re headed to. You aren’t involved with the race, are ya?”

I nodded and smirked, ready to talk myself up. “In fact, I am. I’m actually heading in to deal with one of the racers themselves.”

“Oh, well seems like I’ve got a big shot with me today.” His bushy eyebrows raised as he glanced back at me in the mirror again. “It wouldn’t happen to be Xander Flaxner, number 385 that you’re in with?”

I shrugged. “Oh, well I’m afraid my boss wouldn’t let me say.”

The driver tapped on the wheel playfully. “Well dang. Ya know, the guy is from the same neighborhood as me. He inspired me to start drivin’ professionally… even if it is just a taxi.”

In posing myself nonchalantly against the window, the mixture of the erratic driving and the overall speed of the craft made my stomach begin to feel funny. “Well, I imagine you’re doing well for yourself regardless.”

The driver went on for a little while about the driver and a bit of the race, all of which turned to word soup in my ears. To be honest, I knew nothing about the race at all, except for the fact that racers and their teams needed insurance to compete and that I didn’t want to be late.

I couldn’t help but notice some of the streets lacking the fervent sky traffic as the rest of the skies of Vallas Fax. Blocking said streets were massive lighted banners in checkerboard patterns. “The race is through the city, is that what it is?”

“Eh? Where were you thinking? Around a docking yard?” The driver chuckled loudly, slapping his hand against his thigh. “Just pulling your thlax. Lookie here, this is your destination down here. The convention hall, you said?”

“That’s it.”

I glanced at the meter as he landed, reading off a credit amount that was more than what I had spent on myself during my last vacation. As I scanned my tablet on his payment terminal I couldn’t help but ask. “You wouldn’t happen to know some of those dock workers back at the port, would you?”

“Oh yeah, good lads they are.” He said, waving me out. “Have a fun time here, little miss.”

I smiled and nodded as he drifted off, making a mental note for myself. Make sure to put that little bill on a reimbursement form. My attention didn’t remain there long, however, as the crowds outside the convention hall, ravenous for racing and betting and overpriced food, were ready to turn me into paste. Moving billboards advertising the race, the drivers, their vehicles, and the various sponsors created a stream of unabsorbable fanfare. Among the visual chaos, my eyes landed on a plainly printed sign reading ‘race staff entrance’ above one of the sets of doors.

I readied myself with all the relevant information from my tablet before approaching the front booth with a caffeinated-looking attendant. “Welcome, where are you headed to today?”

“Hi,” I said, glancing at the tablet one last time. “I’m with Cycles Go ‘Round insurance. I was hoping you could guide me to Flatsin Ouht’s garage.”

“Oh, Cycles Go ‘Round?” She repeated with wavering certainty.

“You know, for the racer’s insurance?”

“Oh, no, of course. I just had some deja-vu, another person from your company stopped by a little bit earlier for them. I guess the more the merrier, huh?”

“Right…”

She nodded and blinked at me. “Down this hall, to the left, and the third big door on the right.”

“Thank you,” I said nodding, wondering why and how someone else from the company would be there. When I reached the foretold door down the hall, I knocked, interrupting what sounded to be a stand-up show in action, audience cackling and all. The silence endured for a few moments before the door was answered.

“You are?” The burly, spotted woman looked me up and down.

“I’m… or I was here to discuss your insurance for the race, but…”

“Anna!” The loud voice was unmistakable. The tall, pale man crept up behind the door-answerer. “I beg you, let her in. She’s with the company.”

“In you go, then.”

The door was shut after me. I had met the man a few times during my early orientation back in one of the hub offices and was well aware of his comportment. I came to know him originally as the person who trained my own trainer back in the day, someone who was certainly a trusted senior in Cycles Go ‘Round. “Zack Gacklin! Fancy meeting you here. Is… there a reason for you to be here, though?”

“Well, the same reason you are, eh?” He was wearing a fitted sport coat and slacks, ones that would have easily gotten wrinkled or worse if they were stored in a ship like mine.

“I mean, Zack,” one of the racing crew members, dressed in one of a collection of matching jumpsuits, spoke up. “You’ve already set us up with everything, at least from what it sounds like. Of course, if you don’t have anywhere to be, you can watch from the service deck. It’s no VIP seating, but—“

“Excuse me,” I raised a hand, glaring into Zach’s eyes. “Before we get too far, I need to talk a little inside business with my… coworker here.”

“Oh— sure.”

“Lead the way, Anna.”

I walked out into the hall, turning back only once Zack had closed the door behind us. “You didn’t do what I think you have,” I said in a hushed tone.

“I’m sorry, Anna,” Zach said, rubbing the back of his smooth head. “I didn’t think it would be you coming this way.”

“Oh, because if it were someone else, you wouldn’t feel bad?”

Zack blinked slowly and rolled his shoulders. “Listen, I’m sorry, but what’s done is done.”

I stuck a finger into his chest. “I bet you saw the big commission and came running.”

“Hey, when all this is said and done, I can take you out for dinner and drinks to make up for it.”

“I don’t care about the commission money,” I paced back. “And no, regardless of how we handle this, I won’t let you take me out. Hah, I bet you think I’m a cheap date, too. No, this was supposed to be my first proper step in climbing the corporate ladder. Getting the company recognized as a sponsor in a big event like this. Get my name out there.”

Zach feigned concern. “Oh, yes, I mean, of course, get them to give you a ship that’s slightly larger than a shoe box.”

I stomped and flung my finger his way. “You know damn right that’s at the top of my needs right now!”

Zack shrugged. “I was there once.”

“Yeah, which is why you don’t need this.”

The tall man shrugged and looked at his shoes. “Dunno what to tell you, the deal’s already done. But hey, you’re here in a spot like this. We should…”

The hall door was jerked open by the hands of an excited race crew member. “Zack man! You just about wrapped up? I found the clip of the crash from last season’s race!”

“Sick, my man.” Zack fired finger guns back to the doorway. “Just one moment.”

“No, we’re done here,” I said, packing my tablet under my arm. “Have fun watching the race. Don’t spend all that commission on a corndog.”

“Anna, come on.” Zack seemed determined to appear as remorseful as possible but I refused to give him more attention.

Passing the front desk, I could only think of one thing; paying for another expensive taxi, one that couldn’t be reimbursed because, after all, what work was I actually doing? I tried to look for such a taxi but the airspace in front of the convention hall had been jammed up, locals and tourists alike, awaiting a massive barge-craft perpendicular to the flow of traffic. It was backed up to a delivery entrance at the far end of the building, seeming to not make any progress in what it was doing.

Having nothing better to do, I crept up, listening to the commotion. “You can’t take my racer! Man, get that out of here!”

Someone bearing the logo of the Vallas Fax Grand Prix on their clothes was lined up with a couple of police officers, shoving a writhing racer from a ship, strapped down to a tow platform. “Jexen, you know the rules, no insurance, no race. The city wouldn’t allow it. I’m sorry that your guys went out of business. You had a full off-season to figure it out!”

“Yeah, that’s garbage and you know it.” The racer stomped. “I can still make some calls! The race isn’t for two days!”

I hurried myself to the edge of the crowd. “Excuse me. I just so happen to know someone who might be able to provide the insurance!”

The racing official glanced back with a scoff. “You crazy, broad? Insurance doesn’t just grow on trees.”

I fumbled with my tablet and revealed the home screen bearing the logo for my company. The official leaned in with a squint before plodding my way to fully take it in. “Cycles Go ‘Round? Where’ve I heard that?”

I pushed myself up past the onlookers and the police officers to look the racer up and down. “Another racer is on our company’s policy.”

“No double-dipping, Terran girl,” the official huffed with crossed arms. “You can’t just work for multiple teams. That’s a conflict of interest.”

“I understand that,” I explained promptly. “No, you see that other team under our name was signed on by a greedy coworker of mine. That has since left me essentially wasting my time here. Or I thought, until I noticed this nice young man in dire straits. My hands are at the ready for co-signing any agreement and hopefully taking a place above that other team.”

The racer, Jexen, was younger, with wide, bright eyes, tanned skin, gentle curls, and hints of ridges around the sides of his face. He grinned, standing against the side of his semi-impounded racer, and rubbed at his chin. “That solves that problem, Glubbs. Unless you have other reasons I can’t race this season?”

The official huffed and shrugged. “Don’t do it, girl. You wanna know the reason the last company that insured him went down? There was a big crash last year, a lot of property damage. This guy behind the controls. They had to fork out big time. Went insolvent not long after.”

Jexen clapped his hands. “At least you lot got video replays for cycles after that! And I… walked away, so there’s that, too. That’s the thing you lot worry the most about, eh?”

I caught sight of the racer’s determined and excited eyes locked to me, making me realize it was too late to suddenly change my mind. “Well, Jexen… was it? You shall be covered by Cycles Go ‘Round this year. I hope you will wear our company name well.”

“Hot Scuff!” The young man jumped and clapped, shouting at the police and towing company. “You hear that, guffbaggers! Get my ride down from here so we can get it ready for the line!”

---

The racing ship was towed back on casters to the mostly empty garage. The space looked more like a dorm room than a place where any work got done. The workbenches were covered with empty bags of food and brew bottles instead of tools. Instead of team flags on the walls, there were pictures of females and vistas of different, distant planets, and finally, a folding bed in the corner, plastered with unfolded clothes.

“Did your… crew go home, assuming that you were going to have to drop out of the race?”

“Eh?” Jexen glanced back from his racer, his hands still rubbing away at the metal panels, checking for any damage done by the tow crew. “Ah, sometimes my friends come by. They might help out tune things up, mostly just drinking, shootin’ the shixx though. Dude’s probably… sleeping off last night’s fun still.”

I shoved a stool near the workbench, pushing away the bitter-smelling bottles to make room for me to work. “Ah, well, work hard and play hard, I’ve heard that sort of lifestyle called.”

Jexen chuckled, glancing at himself in the reflection of the windshield. “And to wrap it up, we’re gonna win hard.”

I turned on my tablet and pulled up the forms I had downloaded to it. “Well, I ask that we get down to it so I can get these forms submitted to the officials. First off, I need the name of your sponsors.”

“Sponsor, sponsor,” the racer sauntered my way, talking as if the word were brand new to him.

“The ones who give you money to keep this whole thing running for you. Including paying our deducting fee upfront to jump-start your protection. Perhaps someone else handled this for you in the past?”

“Ah, well, it’s mostly me,” he said, glancing down the necks of several abandoned bottles, assumedly looking for any remaining dregs. “Sponsor, yeah. The cash has gotta come from somewhere, you know it. I just call him ‘pops’.”

I stared at the form, wondering how I would ever bring it to completion the way things were going. “Can I assume that means he’s… your father?”

“Well, duh. He says he’s happy givin’ me the money to keep racing so I’m not out on the streets wasting my time with other stuff.”

“And what other stuff would you be doing?”

Jexen stood with his arms to his hips in a triumphant pose. “Probably still driving fast, trickin’ in the no-fly areas, running away from the police. I was one little mishap away from probably losing my license, you know? But accidentally thrashing something in a race? That’s no big deal, the other racers know what they’ve signed up for.”

I slid myself sideways on the stool. “Well, that’s also what us insurance providers sign up for. I might kick myself for asking this, but you want to tell me what happened last year?”

“I was gonna win!” He whined, back suddenly slumped and feet plodding heavily across the floor. “But I got bumped off the course on one of the last corners. Got flung into the grandstands. I managed to save myself… and my adoring fans… and just crack open one of the advertising blimps floating way up in the sky. People got out of there before it crashed down, didn’t stop the lot of them getting pissed off though. The city, the advertiser, and several people from the crowd wanted to sue.”

“Uh, yeah, pretty insane. And unfortunate. So… we can insure your craft and any wear and damage to it, even damage you cause to other racers, but outside damages like that can definitely exceed the terms of the policy. The official said your previous company went out of business because of that, though. How did any of the lawsuits stick?”

Jexen shrugged. “You’d have to ask the people who work for my pops. I think they said that their terms weren’t clear enough. A loophole, thingy? They insured me, so they had to cover every little bit of damage. Guess they ran out of money trying to make things right.”

“Ah, the lawyers of the rich and powerful…”

“Huh? What’s that gotta do with anythin’?”

“Never mind.” I sighed, reminding myself of the forms. “Well, just don’t crash again this year. I suppose I will need your father’s… or whoever’s… contact information to get these things in motion.”

“I’ll tell ya’ now, my pops never talks to me directly, but he has this nice secretary who tells me what he wants me to know. Now where’s her number at?”

<– Previous Chapter | Next Chapter –>