It's the stopping
It's been a little slow in work over the last few weeks. Normal for the business. Does it show?
Not quite an experiment. He called it a Griffon.
What did he think was going to happen?
Ultimately, there's only one way it can end.
[hr]
[hr]
[hr]
It's been a little slow in work over the last few weeks. Normal for the business. Does it show?
Not quite an experiment. He called it a Griffon.
What did he think was going to happen?
Ultimately, there's only one way it can end.
The turbine wound down, 1500kw of turbine power moaning as it finally bled away to nothing. It was contained in a low-slung stealth-grey body that’d started as salvaged Countach-replica kit car, placed over reinforced heavy steel spaceframe that’d keep driver safe at any speed short of 300, placed on top of an all-wheel drive system hooked up to four fat near-slick tyres. An eight-speed torque-converter driven automatic gearbox adapted from something Peterbuilt completed the connection between powerplant and road.
A rear wing like a barn-door matched to a front front splitter wider than a doorstep and sharp as a blade crushed it into the road. Engine exhausts blew hot gas through the rear diffuser, pulling air along the undertray, sucking the car onto the road.
Hydropneumatic suspension - stolen from a truck - made bumps utterly irrelevant. It slowly hunkered down as the system pressure bled away.
It was known simply as the ‘Griffon’. It was, in the opinion of its owner, two tons of dead fucking kerosene-burning cool.
The magnesium wheels had been scavenged from a wreck, the timed-out engine borrowed from a helicopter, and most of the ancillaries from scrapyards and breakers across Fenspace.
Mackie Jaguar doubted there was a single new part in it. Not that it mattered. It was a waveless wonder. Pure, unwarped engineering. Reliable. Dependable. Quirkless. Built over 3 months, it was his key into entry into the prestigious Nekomi Motor Club
Sitting in the driver’s seat - a standard bucket seat - he checked a few last systems on his laptop, before adjusting some of the stability manager settings The cockpit instruments bathed him in cool turquoise hues, and few vibrant reds and yellows jumping out to draw attention.
Most of the cockpit instruments were behind repurposed laptop screens, with a few others being formed from LED matrices. Some of the switchgear and steering wheel came from an Opel, while the gear stick was actually a Blackbird throttle. The rest was made using an old tablet screen, with the majority of controls being at the touch of a finger.
it kept his sister from stealing it.
He disconnected the cable from a socket hidden behind a cupholder. The dashboard lights flickered a moment. Some of the LED elements began to glow dimly, illuminating parts of numbers, the service light and a parking brake light.
He blinked, then slapped the top of the dashboard.
Nothing happened.
“Huh... funny that,†he mumbled to himself, before shutting the car down.
Everything went dark inside, except for a courtesy light in the roof. He popped the scissor door open before clambering out over the outer frame rail, taking one last appreciating look at his handiwork, before slamming the door down.
It rattled, rather than clunked.
The distant moans of engines echoed through the tunnels beyond.
Day 1 of Motorcon was done
Day 2, he’d show the Motor club what he could do
--------
“I’ve given the Dorsai, the medical, then guests priority access, but it’s still...... it’s still like spinning plates keeping it up.†Anika sighed, slumping over the terminal. “We get 3.5 megabytes, on a good day. Even with the Wagon giving us another 150 kilobytes, it’s just falling over. The intranet... there’s only so much that can be pushed through the powerlines.†Her hair spilled across the keyboard as she gazed despairingly up. “Can has break now?â€
Ford yawned.... tried to answer... then yawned again. “You don’t need sleep.†she said with a groggy croak. She’d been awake for three days and change... and looked it. Running a convention had aged her visibly, adding at least a decade to her eyes.
Anika groaned loudly,
“Anyway. The Beeb-crew need some bandwidth to send some video back to mundania. What can you give them?â€
“A jump drive and a mail drone,†Anika answered. “Best option. Especially if it’s gigabytes.â€
“Great.â€
A black portable communicator the size of a brick was strapped to her belt. She unhooked it and clicked open
“Yo guys. There’s no spare capacity.. you might be better just mailing it back. Tech says it’ll be faster anyway if it’s over a gigabyte.â€
“Got that. Where can we get one of those then?â€
A dry, english voice was clearly audible. He sounded just as tired as Ford did.
“We’ve a few spare up here.â€
“Righto. There in five.â€
Ford blew out a long sigh, clipping it back onto her belt. “This sucks.â€
Having a film crew around was a curse, not a blessing. Publicity was one thing, but thus far all they’d done was get in the way.
She unzipped her leather jacket, allowing her body to breath. Black leather trousers creaked as she stretched, momentarily revealing a shoulder holster containing an overrated Czech pistol. Embroidered on the back was the logo for ‘Gunsmith Cats’
“So you’re actually going to go out wearing that?â€
Anika might as well have asked her what she was wearing to her execution.
“Rally Vincent, yeah. At least I talked them out of the skirt. Seriously?â€
Anika managed to giggled. “Your own fault.â€
“Ugh....Don’t remind me.â€
The projecting sideburns bounced distractingly in her peripheral vision, and she just knew some dipshit would ask for a photograph with her gun pointed at the camera. But the car demanded it.... and the committee had outvoted her. It was good for the convention for the showrunner to appear in cosplay of a character associated with cars. Who she happened to look like. And technically sound like, because the America dub VA’s were from the wrong region.
“It’ll be fun,†Anika assured her. “I’ve done it and it was so exciting having my picture taken.â€
Ford couldn’t help but be reminded of the dentist telling her that it wouldn’t hurt a bit.’ She just closed her eyes and tried not to think about it. “Remind me to shoot the rest of the committee before they can elect me next year...â€
The door squeaked as it opened, metal footsteps entering a moment later. Jet slipped the pack off her shoulder onto the desk just inside. It came to rest, leaning against an open pack of muffins.
“So what’s it like out there?†Ford asked.
“Crowded,†was the one word answer. “I saw Shinji on the way up.†A sly grin spread across her face. “You want to know who he’s here with? “
Ford raised an eyebrow. “He’s here with someone?â€
“Yuu Inagawa....â€
“The girl on Ultima who fetched our supplies? Big glasses?â€
Jet confirmed it with a single nod.
“I didn’t think she’d be interested in this sort of thing.â€
“Exactly!â€
Ford blinked. “Oh.....“
“Oh that’s so sweet!†Anika beamed with asaccharine squeal. She was on her feet within seconds, wide eyes pleading for more information.
“I saw her earlier sketching,†said Jet. “But wouldn’t have realised if I hadn’t seen them both go into his apartment together.â€
Ford chuckled in her throat. “Well that explains why he took that job out there.â€
Anika’s shoulders slumped. “And I’m stuck here working.â€
Ford smiled at her. It wasn’t a kind smile. “Welcome to the exciting world of convention staffing.â€
Anika’s gaze turned to Jet, the big cyber being her only remaining hope of salvation. Her eyes were pleading in a way that was unique to her.
The stoney expression on Jet’s face said it all. Ford’s the chair, not me.
Anika slunk back to her workstation, throwing sullen gazes at both women in the hopes that somehow, it’d make them feel bad knowing exactly how terrible they were being to her.
Jet demonstrated her immunity to it by opening a cabinet beside the main console, before rifling through a haphazard stack of papers.
“You didn’t get a look at the entry sheet yet, did you Ford?†she asked, filling the silence.
“Do I look like I’ve had time?â€
“Point. I’d say pretty much everyone we’d expected, and then some, is out there. There’s even some tachikoma down there playing around the T-72.†Jet paused. “I want a T-72â€
“Maybe for Christmas.†Ford waved it off. A model kit.
The radio hissed an interruption. “Ford, Ford... It’s us again..â€
“Shit.â€
Anika giggled, before smothering it with her hand.
She unhooked the comm from her belt. Push to talk was handy when you didn't want people to know how little you wanted to hear from them. "Yeah, what is it?"
“We’ll be filming in...." A pause, followed the the sound of papers rustling as a map was checked "...Tunnel B-4. We’ll need it kept clear for the next half hour. Is that alright with you?â€
“No problem. I’ll let the Traffic cops know about it.â€
“Thanks... we’ll try wrap up quick.â€
She covered the eyes with the palm of her hand, for a moment hoping that by blocking out the light, the world would go away.
“Well, Jeph did try to warn us,†said Anika, shattering the illusion.
An electronic chirp from her communicator danced on the remains. A short text message popped up onscreen. She glanced at it and scowled.
“Dorsai. I’ve gotta get this down in Conops... again.â€
“I’ve got to go get the Highway Star for the panel anyway.†Jet said. A light beamed out from the cabinet, enveloping her for a half-second before she reached in and grabbed the micro-projector “Then there’s the Sonoda thing.... â€
Ford shuddered.
“Oh, and people asking me to pose with their motoroids, with my helmet on.â€
Ford offered her a rueful grin. “Try that puppet then. Then you can get harassed like the rest of us.â€
“Hah!†Jet slipped the projector into the backpack, before clasping it shut and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’ll catch you later.â€
“Later Jet.â€
Ford took a deep breath as the control room door locked behind her partner. It was tough... but mid-morning on day two and things hadn’t fallen to pieces yet. Murphy might just stay away for the weekend.
An alarm started to chirp on Anika’s console, annunciator lights flickering red across the
“What?â€
She didn’t really want
“Ah....ahhhh.†Anika’s expression seemed to just melt into despairing sorrow. “A whole subnet just went down.â€
Ford slapped her hard on the back, making her best attempt at an encouraging smile. “Well, tech officer, I trust you can solve the problem.â€
“Cake,†Anika murmured.
-----
The announcement went out by way of radio, through a network of strategic repeaters. It was the one guaranteed way to reach the vast majority of people out driving, especially when networking and instant messaging was spotty at best.
“...And we’ve an announcement from Ops. Tunnel B-4 is closed to traffic until further notice. B-4 Closed to traffic. Speed restrictions in-place, Tunnels A-1 and A-3 for accident clearup. Limits will be enforced. Break the limit, lose your pass.â€
Mackie reasoned, a little unreasonably maybe, that he might’ve been the only person on Frigga who was immune. He lived there. He couldn’t be excluded.
He cruised along at a speed somewhere north of what was technically allowed, only slowing down to snatch glances at a few especially interesting vehicles. It wasn’t a dangerous speed, as such.... his Sister’d busted the limits in Kandor by more, regularly.
It helped that he knew how the system was set up. It made jamming trivial.
He rubber-necked at the wreck. An Opel estate had been practically impaled through the passenger door by short, upright Toyota 4 door while pulling out of a side junction . Nobody seemed to have been injured by stroke of luck. At least not enough to keep them from yelling at each other while waiting for the emergency teams.
Clear of the accident, he locked the cruise control in, and settled in for an effortless 20 kilometre loop. The Griffon rode like a magic carpet, isolated from all but the most serious of bumps by its suspension.
It was speeding... but not ludicrous speed. Not darting between lanes, or doing stupid shit. Just ‘making progress’. The speed limit was an arbitrary number, chosen far away. It was often perfectly safe to go much faster. All was well, cruising at 160. The engine wasn’t even straining.
With that thought, the instrument panel flickered. Mackie stared at it,
It went dark. He smacked it. Every single indicator lit up at once, giving him the full Apollo 13 show, before finally going dark for good.
“Ah...†he managed, before being interrupted by the deep whistle of the turbine spooling up. It kicked him hard in the back a moment later. The car rushed forward.
His first diagnosis was that the cruise control had malfunctioned, getting stuck at a spurious high value by the failed panel. No big deal. There was a disconnect switch on the brake pedal.
He tried the gearstick first. Nothing. It clicked into neutral fine, but the gearbox didn't answer the signal. He slammed it forward and back. Nothing answered.
Mackie stomped hard on the pedal with both feet anyway.
The engine strained hard. But he could feel himself slowing down. Not brick-wall fast, but enough. No need to panic. Just a routine accident. He could smell the heat, the acrid stink of cooking brakes as the car struggled to accelerate against.
He found himself wondering why the hell it wasn’t working as he felt the fear rise inside him. He knew he couldn’t get sick, but he sure felt like throwing up when the realisation hit.
It wasn’t cutting the engine, because it wasn’t the cruise control that was the problem. It was the throttle sensor. It couldn’t send the signal without power. The engine control system was fail-safed to go to full throttle if the sensor signal was lost. Full power was safer in an aircraft on takeoff than no power. In a car, in a tunnel, with traffic flickering by.... it was the worst possible malfunction and he knew it.
He knew what’d caused the instrument failure... he knew what’d caused the throttle sensor failure... he knew how to fix it if he wasn’t sitting inside it at speeds north of 320.
As problems with, it was nothing special. An earth strap bonding the console to the frame of the car had fallen loose. Just a simple electrical glitch.
The pedal started to soften under his foot, sinking deeper and deeper. His stomach followed. At least, that’s what it felt like.
The engine started to win its struggle, steadily breaking free of its bindings. The brakes gave up for good a moment later when his foot hit the floor.
Mackie swallowed his fear. One last gamble. He ripped the handbrake up, then gripped tight to the wheel. It bit deep and hard with a metallic howl, sending a hard jolt through the car’s frame. It gave up the ghost a half-second later, failing with a hollow clank that ricocheted around under the car before disappearing into the distance behind.
“Ah....†he managed, before returning his gaze to the tunnel ahead.
His mind stopped dead.
It branched. Left. Right.
Right was blocked. A glimpse of a barely seen vehicle registered in his mind. He didn’t even choose left. Instinct did.
The car jerked. The tyres chirped. And Mackie thanked whatever deity cared that he had an android’s reflexes.
The momentary feeling of relief dissolved as he realised he was still in a runaway car. And he was accelerating through 400kph with no sign of stopping.
The gearbox shifted itself up, and it found its second wind as it bulleted into the black of the tunnel. Mackie didn’t know the proverbial chickens had ever left, but he sure as hell knew they were all coming home to roost now.
----
A man, who had once charitably been described as having been bald until he hit puberty, was allowed the Ferrari he was driving to steadily fall behind the Range Rover he was following. He shuffled in the seat for a few seconds searching in vain for a comfortable driving position - the car having been bespoke-built for someone of slight shorter stature than himself.
It was a simple maneuver. Piece to camera introduction. Stomp. Noise. Verbal ejaculation. Nothing new under the sun. Or orbiting it now for that matter.
He relied on the camera crew hanging off the back of 4-wheel drive the watch for traffic - the camera equipment and lighting gear blocked his line of sight. Again, it was the usual arrangement.
The director gave him a thumbs up. All clear.
“Action!â€
The driver took a deep breath. He was the connoisseur of cars.
“Naturally, I’ve chosen the Ferrari F70. The F70 is, quite simply, the ultimate Ferrari. It is the end of an era. The last of a breed. It is the last Ferrari made with pure, unwaved Italian flair and engineering. It is Revelations. It is an Evening Star. It is.... in one word....,â€
And stomp!. Twelve Cylinders bellowed with the music spawned of dinousaurs and gigatons, augmented by the high cold whine of an electric motor. The supercar reared back onto its back wheels like a prancing horse before launching into a gallop.
“Amaz...â€
He stopped slack-jawed. The crew in the Land Rover were waving frantically at him. He didn’t even wait to wonder why. He just put the foot into the brake pedal, hard. Four carbon-ceramic brake disks and a kinetic energy recovery system halved the Ferrari’s speed in one gut-squeezing second.
His mind registered that the light flooding the cabin, wasn’t from the camera stuck to the passenger door. The mirror blazed with a brilliant blue arc-light.
Car. It passed with a flash and shockwave that seemed to wash right through him.
“Jesus Christ!â€
It was gone in an instantaneous flash of headlight, leaving only a red glow in the distance, a hollow roar and the burned-hair smell of cooking brakes hanging in the air behind it.
----
“I’ll tell you what the bloody problem is Miss Sierra... we’ve just had some moron in an intercontinental ballistic wavemissile come blasting past us like a bomb, nearly wiping us all out in the process.â€
Ford bit her lip, hard. Exaggerating now. As demanding as a prima-donna. A pain the ass and then some. A party looking for an open airlock. The security staff from the Dorsai looked on with an expression best described as amused sympathy.
“You told us you’d keep the tunnel clear.â€
“I’ll find who it was and burn their pass. It won’t happen again.â€
“See that it doesn’t.â€
Click. An angry growl rose out of the back of her throat. Whoever the hell it was wasn’t just a danger to people, they were a danger to the collective reputation of each and every enthusiast present.
She sighed, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes. “Dangerous driver. Tunnel B4.â€
The Dorsai leader.... a thin guy with sandy hair who wore a uniform that seemed to swallow him whole.... nodded once.
“Security team to the tunnel endpoints. Dangerous driver approaching at speed. Get him out, get his keys. Take him to a holding cell.â€
His voice left no doubt that his ordered would be carried out. Well worth the extra money, compared to BSS.
The room was normally used for certain exercises at survival shot. It had monitors hooked up to a CCTV system, while one full wall was given over to an interactive map of Frigga itself. Coloured spots on the wall marked each and every attendee... tracked in the public areas by an RFID in their wristband. A safety feature, in case of an accident.
Each bank of monitor had a body in front of it. Scanning. Watching. Monitoring.
“Sir.†A grey-furred catgirl raised her hand “I just got a handle on that moron. It’s a Countach... I think. A red one.†There was a pause as she switched between monitors, checking and double-checking her timing. “But it has to be doing North of 500kph.â€
“Waved,†the commander mumbled to himself. “Alright. Forward the details to the patrols. Get the tags. And get the medical teams to standby just in case this moron wrecks it.â€
Ford felt something inside her snap. she knew exactly who that was. She felt herself seethe inside, a white hot anger the boiled up and burned her face red.
This was best dealt with through use of the cellphone in her pocket. The number was on speed-dial. It took a half-second to connect
It didn’t even get the chance ring once.
“Ford!†The voice on the other end of the line gasped.
Mackie sounded terrified. Caught in the act. Rabbit in headlights.
“Hey!†she barked into the headset. “I’m going to give you one minute to slow that thing the fuck down before I let Security take care of you.â€
“But...†he stuttered.
“I don’t want to hear it.†She slammed the door hard. “If you don’t pull that thing up right goddamned now, I’ll have your pass, and I’ll make sure you’re somewhere far away if we ever get to run this con again.â€
All eyes fell upon her.
“But...â€
“No! I’m getting complaints because of you. You drive like a lunatic because you think your sister won’t stick the boot in. Well I got news for you, I Will, and I will make sure it sticks.â€
“I can’t fucking stop!†he yelled.
Ford swallowed the next sentence, replacing it with a flat “What?â€
“Its stuck at full throttle. I can’t slow down! No brakes!â€
“Tell me you’re kidding me.â€
It’s wasn’t even a funny joke.
“No I fucking amn’t!â€
Everyone was staring at her, open mouthed. She sucked her bottom lip for a second, swallowing a thick heavy lump that’d crawled up the back of her throat. She just about managed to get her thoughts together.
“Runaway vehicle. Tunnel B4. Get the whole loop cleared of traffic. Get everyone to stop at the refuge areas and make sure they stay out of the road tunnels.... and find something or someone that can stop that thing. “
Just after midday, on day 2. It was all going to fall apart.
------
A rear wing like a barn-door matched to a front front splitter wider than a doorstep and sharp as a blade crushed it into the road. Engine exhausts blew hot gas through the rear diffuser, pulling air along the undertray, sucking the car onto the road.
Hydropneumatic suspension - stolen from a truck - made bumps utterly irrelevant. It slowly hunkered down as the system pressure bled away.
It was known simply as the ‘Griffon’. It was, in the opinion of its owner, two tons of dead fucking kerosene-burning cool.
The magnesium wheels had been scavenged from a wreck, the timed-out engine borrowed from a helicopter, and most of the ancillaries from scrapyards and breakers across Fenspace.
Mackie Jaguar doubted there was a single new part in it. Not that it mattered. It was a waveless wonder. Pure, unwarped engineering. Reliable. Dependable. Quirkless. Built over 3 months, it was his key into entry into the prestigious Nekomi Motor Club
Sitting in the driver’s seat - a standard bucket seat - he checked a few last systems on his laptop, before adjusting some of the stability manager settings The cockpit instruments bathed him in cool turquoise hues, and few vibrant reds and yellows jumping out to draw attention.
Most of the cockpit instruments were behind repurposed laptop screens, with a few others being formed from LED matrices. Some of the switchgear and steering wheel came from an Opel, while the gear stick was actually a Blackbird throttle. The rest was made using an old tablet screen, with the majority of controls being at the touch of a finger.
it kept his sister from stealing it.
He disconnected the cable from a socket hidden behind a cupholder. The dashboard lights flickered a moment. Some of the LED elements began to glow dimly, illuminating parts of numbers, the service light and a parking brake light.
He blinked, then slapped the top of the dashboard.
Nothing happened.
“Huh... funny that,†he mumbled to himself, before shutting the car down.
Everything went dark inside, except for a courtesy light in the roof. He popped the scissor door open before clambering out over the outer frame rail, taking one last appreciating look at his handiwork, before slamming the door down.
It rattled, rather than clunked.
The distant moans of engines echoed through the tunnels beyond.
Day 1 of Motorcon was done
Day 2, he’d show the Motor club what he could do
--------
“I’ve given the Dorsai, the medical, then guests priority access, but it’s still...... it’s still like spinning plates keeping it up.†Anika sighed, slumping over the terminal. “We get 3.5 megabytes, on a good day. Even with the Wagon giving us another 150 kilobytes, it’s just falling over. The intranet... there’s only so much that can be pushed through the powerlines.†Her hair spilled across the keyboard as she gazed despairingly up. “Can has break now?â€
Ford yawned.... tried to answer... then yawned again. “You don’t need sleep.†she said with a groggy croak. She’d been awake for three days and change... and looked it. Running a convention had aged her visibly, adding at least a decade to her eyes.
Anika groaned loudly,
“Anyway. The Beeb-crew need some bandwidth to send some video back to mundania. What can you give them?â€
“A jump drive and a mail drone,†Anika answered. “Best option. Especially if it’s gigabytes.â€
“Great.â€
A black portable communicator the size of a brick was strapped to her belt. She unhooked it and clicked open
“Yo guys. There’s no spare capacity.. you might be better just mailing it back. Tech says it’ll be faster anyway if it’s over a gigabyte.â€
“Got that. Where can we get one of those then?â€
A dry, english voice was clearly audible. He sounded just as tired as Ford did.
“We’ve a few spare up here.â€
“Righto. There in five.â€
Ford blew out a long sigh, clipping it back onto her belt. “This sucks.â€
Having a film crew around was a curse, not a blessing. Publicity was one thing, but thus far all they’d done was get in the way.
She unzipped her leather jacket, allowing her body to breath. Black leather trousers creaked as she stretched, momentarily revealing a shoulder holster containing an overrated Czech pistol. Embroidered on the back was the logo for ‘Gunsmith Cats’
“So you’re actually going to go out wearing that?â€
Anika might as well have asked her what she was wearing to her execution.
“Rally Vincent, yeah. At least I talked them out of the skirt. Seriously?â€
Anika managed to giggled. “Your own fault.â€
“Ugh....Don’t remind me.â€
The projecting sideburns bounced distractingly in her peripheral vision, and she just knew some dipshit would ask for a photograph with her gun pointed at the camera. But the car demanded it.... and the committee had outvoted her. It was good for the convention for the showrunner to appear in cosplay of a character associated with cars. Who she happened to look like. And technically sound like, because the America dub VA’s were from the wrong region.
“It’ll be fun,†Anika assured her. “I’ve done it and it was so exciting having my picture taken.â€
Ford couldn’t help but be reminded of the dentist telling her that it wouldn’t hurt a bit.’ She just closed her eyes and tried not to think about it. “Remind me to shoot the rest of the committee before they can elect me next year...â€
The door squeaked as it opened, metal footsteps entering a moment later. Jet slipped the pack off her shoulder onto the desk just inside. It came to rest, leaning against an open pack of muffins.
“So what’s it like out there?†Ford asked.
“Crowded,†was the one word answer. “I saw Shinji on the way up.†A sly grin spread across her face. “You want to know who he’s here with? “
Ford raised an eyebrow. “He’s here with someone?â€
“Yuu Inagawa....â€
“The girl on Ultima who fetched our supplies? Big glasses?â€
Jet confirmed it with a single nod.
“I didn’t think she’d be interested in this sort of thing.â€
“Exactly!â€
Ford blinked. “Oh.....“
“Oh that’s so sweet!†Anika beamed with asaccharine squeal. She was on her feet within seconds, wide eyes pleading for more information.
“I saw her earlier sketching,†said Jet. “But wouldn’t have realised if I hadn’t seen them both go into his apartment together.â€
Ford chuckled in her throat. “Well that explains why he took that job out there.â€
Anika’s shoulders slumped. “And I’m stuck here working.â€
Ford smiled at her. It wasn’t a kind smile. “Welcome to the exciting world of convention staffing.â€
Anika’s gaze turned to Jet, the big cyber being her only remaining hope of salvation. Her eyes were pleading in a way that was unique to her.
The stoney expression on Jet’s face said it all. Ford’s the chair, not me.
Anika slunk back to her workstation, throwing sullen gazes at both women in the hopes that somehow, it’d make them feel bad knowing exactly how terrible they were being to her.
Jet demonstrated her immunity to it by opening a cabinet beside the main console, before rifling through a haphazard stack of papers.
“You didn’t get a look at the entry sheet yet, did you Ford?†she asked, filling the silence.
“Do I look like I’ve had time?â€
“Point. I’d say pretty much everyone we’d expected, and then some, is out there. There’s even some tachikoma down there playing around the T-72.†Jet paused. “I want a T-72â€
“Maybe for Christmas.†Ford waved it off. A model kit.
The radio hissed an interruption. “Ford, Ford... It’s us again..â€
“Shit.â€
Anika giggled, before smothering it with her hand.
She unhooked the comm from her belt. Push to talk was handy when you didn't want people to know how little you wanted to hear from them. "Yeah, what is it?"
“We’ll be filming in...." A pause, followed the the sound of papers rustling as a map was checked "...Tunnel B-4. We’ll need it kept clear for the next half hour. Is that alright with you?â€
“No problem. I’ll let the Traffic cops know about it.â€
“Thanks... we’ll try wrap up quick.â€
She covered the eyes with the palm of her hand, for a moment hoping that by blocking out the light, the world would go away.
“Well, Jeph did try to warn us,†said Anika, shattering the illusion.
An electronic chirp from her communicator danced on the remains. A short text message popped up onscreen. She glanced at it and scowled.
“Dorsai. I’ve gotta get this down in Conops... again.â€
“I’ve got to go get the Highway Star for the panel anyway.†Jet said. A light beamed out from the cabinet, enveloping her for a half-second before she reached in and grabbed the micro-projector “Then there’s the Sonoda thing.... â€
Ford shuddered.
“Oh, and people asking me to pose with their motoroids, with my helmet on.â€
Ford offered her a rueful grin. “Try that puppet then. Then you can get harassed like the rest of us.â€
“Hah!†Jet slipped the projector into the backpack, before clasping it shut and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’ll catch you later.â€
“Later Jet.â€
Ford took a deep breath as the control room door locked behind her partner. It was tough... but mid-morning on day two and things hadn’t fallen to pieces yet. Murphy might just stay away for the weekend.
An alarm started to chirp on Anika’s console, annunciator lights flickering red across the
“What?â€
She didn’t really want
“Ah....ahhhh.†Anika’s expression seemed to just melt into despairing sorrow. “A whole subnet just went down.â€
Ford slapped her hard on the back, making her best attempt at an encouraging smile. “Well, tech officer, I trust you can solve the problem.â€
“Cake,†Anika murmured.
-----
The announcement went out by way of radio, through a network of strategic repeaters. It was the one guaranteed way to reach the vast majority of people out driving, especially when networking and instant messaging was spotty at best.
“...And we’ve an announcement from Ops. Tunnel B-4 is closed to traffic until further notice. B-4 Closed to traffic. Speed restrictions in-place, Tunnels A-1 and A-3 for accident clearup. Limits will be enforced. Break the limit, lose your pass.â€
Mackie reasoned, a little unreasonably maybe, that he might’ve been the only person on Frigga who was immune. He lived there. He couldn’t be excluded.
He cruised along at a speed somewhere north of what was technically allowed, only slowing down to snatch glances at a few especially interesting vehicles. It wasn’t a dangerous speed, as such.... his Sister’d busted the limits in Kandor by more, regularly.
It helped that he knew how the system was set up. It made jamming trivial.
He rubber-necked at the wreck. An Opel estate had been practically impaled through the passenger door by short, upright Toyota 4 door while pulling out of a side junction . Nobody seemed to have been injured by stroke of luck. At least not enough to keep them from yelling at each other while waiting for the emergency teams.
Clear of the accident, he locked the cruise control in, and settled in for an effortless 20 kilometre loop. The Griffon rode like a magic carpet, isolated from all but the most serious of bumps by its suspension.
It was speeding... but not ludicrous speed. Not darting between lanes, or doing stupid shit. Just ‘making progress’. The speed limit was an arbitrary number, chosen far away. It was often perfectly safe to go much faster. All was well, cruising at 160. The engine wasn’t even straining.
With that thought, the instrument panel flickered. Mackie stared at it,
It went dark. He smacked it. Every single indicator lit up at once, giving him the full Apollo 13 show, before finally going dark for good.
“Ah...†he managed, before being interrupted by the deep whistle of the turbine spooling up. It kicked him hard in the back a moment later. The car rushed forward.
His first diagnosis was that the cruise control had malfunctioned, getting stuck at a spurious high value by the failed panel. No big deal. There was a disconnect switch on the brake pedal.
He tried the gearstick first. Nothing. It clicked into neutral fine, but the gearbox didn't answer the signal. He slammed it forward and back. Nothing answered.
Mackie stomped hard on the pedal with both feet anyway.
The engine strained hard. But he could feel himself slowing down. Not brick-wall fast, but enough. No need to panic. Just a routine accident. He could smell the heat, the acrid stink of cooking brakes as the car struggled to accelerate against.
He found himself wondering why the hell it wasn’t working as he felt the fear rise inside him. He knew he couldn’t get sick, but he sure felt like throwing up when the realisation hit.
It wasn’t cutting the engine, because it wasn’t the cruise control that was the problem. It was the throttle sensor. It couldn’t send the signal without power. The engine control system was fail-safed to go to full throttle if the sensor signal was lost. Full power was safer in an aircraft on takeoff than no power. In a car, in a tunnel, with traffic flickering by.... it was the worst possible malfunction and he knew it.
He knew what’d caused the instrument failure... he knew what’d caused the throttle sensor failure... he knew how to fix it if he wasn’t sitting inside it at speeds north of 320.
As problems with, it was nothing special. An earth strap bonding the console to the frame of the car had fallen loose. Just a simple electrical glitch.
The pedal started to soften under his foot, sinking deeper and deeper. His stomach followed. At least, that’s what it felt like.
The engine started to win its struggle, steadily breaking free of its bindings. The brakes gave up for good a moment later when his foot hit the floor.
Mackie swallowed his fear. One last gamble. He ripped the handbrake up, then gripped tight to the wheel. It bit deep and hard with a metallic howl, sending a hard jolt through the car’s frame. It gave up the ghost a half-second later, failing with a hollow clank that ricocheted around under the car before disappearing into the distance behind.
“Ah....†he managed, before returning his gaze to the tunnel ahead.
His mind stopped dead.
It branched. Left. Right.
Right was blocked. A glimpse of a barely seen vehicle registered in his mind. He didn’t even choose left. Instinct did.
The car jerked. The tyres chirped. And Mackie thanked whatever deity cared that he had an android’s reflexes.
The momentary feeling of relief dissolved as he realised he was still in a runaway car. And he was accelerating through 400kph with no sign of stopping.
The gearbox shifted itself up, and it found its second wind as it bulleted into the black of the tunnel. Mackie didn’t know the proverbial chickens had ever left, but he sure as hell knew they were all coming home to roost now.
----
A man, who had once charitably been described as having been bald until he hit puberty, was allowed the Ferrari he was driving to steadily fall behind the Range Rover he was following. He shuffled in the seat for a few seconds searching in vain for a comfortable driving position - the car having been bespoke-built for someone of slight shorter stature than himself.
It was a simple maneuver. Piece to camera introduction. Stomp. Noise. Verbal ejaculation. Nothing new under the sun. Or orbiting it now for that matter.
He relied on the camera crew hanging off the back of 4-wheel drive the watch for traffic - the camera equipment and lighting gear blocked his line of sight. Again, it was the usual arrangement.
The director gave him a thumbs up. All clear.
“Action!â€
The driver took a deep breath. He was the connoisseur of cars.
“Naturally, I’ve chosen the Ferrari F70. The F70 is, quite simply, the ultimate Ferrari. It is the end of an era. The last of a breed. It is the last Ferrari made with pure, unwaved Italian flair and engineering. It is Revelations. It is an Evening Star. It is.... in one word....,â€
And stomp!. Twelve Cylinders bellowed with the music spawned of dinousaurs and gigatons, augmented by the high cold whine of an electric motor. The supercar reared back onto its back wheels like a prancing horse before launching into a gallop.
“Amaz...â€
He stopped slack-jawed. The crew in the Land Rover were waving frantically at him. He didn’t even wait to wonder why. He just put the foot into the brake pedal, hard. Four carbon-ceramic brake disks and a kinetic energy recovery system halved the Ferrari’s speed in one gut-squeezing second.
His mind registered that the light flooding the cabin, wasn’t from the camera stuck to the passenger door. The mirror blazed with a brilliant blue arc-light.
Car. It passed with a flash and shockwave that seemed to wash right through him.
“Jesus Christ!â€
It was gone in an instantaneous flash of headlight, leaving only a red glow in the distance, a hollow roar and the burned-hair smell of cooking brakes hanging in the air behind it.
----
“I’ll tell you what the bloody problem is Miss Sierra... we’ve just had some moron in an intercontinental ballistic wavemissile come blasting past us like a bomb, nearly wiping us all out in the process.â€
Ford bit her lip, hard. Exaggerating now. As demanding as a prima-donna. A pain the ass and then some. A party looking for an open airlock. The security staff from the Dorsai looked on with an expression best described as amused sympathy.
“You told us you’d keep the tunnel clear.â€
“I’ll find who it was and burn their pass. It won’t happen again.â€
“See that it doesn’t.â€
Click. An angry growl rose out of the back of her throat. Whoever the hell it was wasn’t just a danger to people, they were a danger to the collective reputation of each and every enthusiast present.
She sighed, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes. “Dangerous driver. Tunnel B4.â€
The Dorsai leader.... a thin guy with sandy hair who wore a uniform that seemed to swallow him whole.... nodded once.
“Security team to the tunnel endpoints. Dangerous driver approaching at speed. Get him out, get his keys. Take him to a holding cell.â€
His voice left no doubt that his ordered would be carried out. Well worth the extra money, compared to BSS.
The room was normally used for certain exercises at survival shot. It had monitors hooked up to a CCTV system, while one full wall was given over to an interactive map of Frigga itself. Coloured spots on the wall marked each and every attendee... tracked in the public areas by an RFID in their wristband. A safety feature, in case of an accident.
Each bank of monitor had a body in front of it. Scanning. Watching. Monitoring.
“Sir.†A grey-furred catgirl raised her hand “I just got a handle on that moron. It’s a Countach... I think. A red one.†There was a pause as she switched between monitors, checking and double-checking her timing. “But it has to be doing North of 500kph.â€
“Waved,†the commander mumbled to himself. “Alright. Forward the details to the patrols. Get the tags. And get the medical teams to standby just in case this moron wrecks it.â€
Ford felt something inside her snap. she knew exactly who that was. She felt herself seethe inside, a white hot anger the boiled up and burned her face red.
This was best dealt with through use of the cellphone in her pocket. The number was on speed-dial. It took a half-second to connect
It didn’t even get the chance ring once.
“Ford!†The voice on the other end of the line gasped.
Mackie sounded terrified. Caught in the act. Rabbit in headlights.
“Hey!†she barked into the headset. “I’m going to give you one minute to slow that thing the fuck down before I let Security take care of you.â€
“But...†he stuttered.
“I don’t want to hear it.†She slammed the door hard. “If you don’t pull that thing up right goddamned now, I’ll have your pass, and I’ll make sure you’re somewhere far away if we ever get to run this con again.â€
All eyes fell upon her.
“But...â€
“No! I’m getting complaints because of you. You drive like a lunatic because you think your sister won’t stick the boot in. Well I got news for you, I Will, and I will make sure it sticks.â€
“I can’t fucking stop!†he yelled.
Ford swallowed the next sentence, replacing it with a flat “What?â€
“Its stuck at full throttle. I can’t slow down! No brakes!â€
“Tell me you’re kidding me.â€
It’s wasn’t even a funny joke.
“No I fucking amn’t!â€
Everyone was staring at her, open mouthed. She sucked her bottom lip for a second, swallowing a thick heavy lump that’d crawled up the back of her throat. She just about managed to get her thoughts together.
“Runaway vehicle. Tunnel B4. Get the whole loop cleared of traffic. Get everyone to stop at the refuge areas and make sure they stay out of the road tunnels.... and find something or someone that can stop that thing. “
Just after midday, on day 2. It was all going to fall apart.
------
The best part about having her visor down, Jet figured, was that it kept the flashes from bothering her eyes. While true fans could spot the differences from an AU away -with some padding hiding the markings on her shoulder - she could pass for Sylia Stingray
It was all in body language. Look confident. Look strong.
The Highway Star was the last record holder built in the era of hardtech machinery. The 1907 Curtiss V8 Sora Hasegawa sat astride beside her was the first. Or a replica at least.
Both machines had two wheels and spat out a wall of noise when running, and this was about the limit of what they had in common.
“Any chance you could start it them up?â€
Jet flipped her visor up.
“Sorry. Ran out of petrol.â€
3600cc’s of turbocharged rotary engine did not equal a winning formula for fuel economy. It emptied its tank just getting down to the car park.
“I’ll need a bumpstart. And a 4 litre V-8 is tough to bumpstart,†answered Sora, offfering a conciliatory smile.
“We’ll be moving them when the event is over anyway,†added Jet “That’s 43 minutes from now,â€
“I’ll be back!†the fan offered with a grin.
And after that, it was across the carpark to where the anime replicas were hanging out, prior to a panel on anime vehicle design. Ford’s GT500 restore had been parked there, with the expectation that Rally Vincent would show up. Lebia Maverick was lurking, along with the Third Highway Star and a few Tachikoma.
The event centred on the carpark, set in the bottom of an old excavation pit deep in the core of the asteroid.
It was where attendees gathered in their vehicles, just to show them off, or offer rides. A StellOil outlet provided fuel at fair rates for those that needed it, while a few chargepoints had been provided for the BEV’s to slurp.
At both ends of the carpark were gates allowing access to the tunnels of Frigga. The general idea was that it could form one full loop around, with various routes branching off. And a few secrets hidden in the dark areas.
The T-72 parked in the middle acted as a showpiece for its crew. And a nice chicane to keep morons from screaming through at full throttle - inspite of the limits and pass gates. A speed limit of 50kph was enforced near public areas. And the con rules left people in no doubt exactly who was responsible if someone got injured because those limits were broken.
Jet’d already personally escorted one fool to the landing bay after he was banned for dangerous driving, then got uppity about being treated unfairly. Joining him was a groper who groped the wrong person and got a black-eye and lifetime ban for the trouble.
Three other Kunstler from the Kammer Gruppe provided some real hard muscle to back the security. Nobody was going to try rip off some of the expensive machinery on show with them watching.
The trade hall and panel rooms were up in the accommodation block, a short drive - or lift ride - away.
She could see Vulpin Fury down by the Batmobile collection. Star of the show was a Barris Batmobile, along with an original Tumbler in camo, parked next to a blue replica. A few mundane celebrities mingled with the BNF’s, and a film crew from England who were getting in the way while trying to film a show about the ultimate evolution of the petrol engine.
The Highway Star was slated to participate in a showpiece later.
Effectively, a century of vehicular evolution was displayed on one stand. And now the world had changed, and the internal combustion engine was rapidly going the way of the dinosaurs that once fueled its mighty roar.
There was a certain pride in being the last velociraptor standing.
"Hey, big sis, I like what you've done with your body!"
Jet was snapped out of her momentary melancholy by a voice. The crowd parted around Kohran Li.
"Thanks. You're still wearing that one?" Sora answered, with a mischievous grin.
Kohran folded her arms defensively "It suits me. Have you met Yuu's boyfriend yet?"
Unsubtle change of subject there.... thought Jet.
“No..... Ikari right?â€
“One of Jet’s,†said Kohran, completing the redirection of attention.
“I know the story. Some of it anyway.â€
Sora’s eyes asked for more information from the cyber.
“They’re in his apartment together,†Jet answered, feeling painfully like a third wheel dragged into a family conversation. “I’m glad he found someone.â€
“They’re perfect for each other!†Kohran announced. “And you know Yuu deserves it, considering...â€
“Yeah,†Sora nodded.
Jet kept quiet, only knowing the truth through Great Justice reports. She’d been assigned to other duties at the time.
“So, Jet, Isn’t that pushing it?â€
“What?â€
“Anime replica panel.†she pointed right at the image in the conbook on her datapad. “The Highway Star, and a Griffon replica? In the one room? It’s just begging for the laws of drama to intervene.â€
Jet offered her an almost mischievous grin “Why do you think it wasn’t waved? It exists outside the laws of drama, in the real world.â€
"I'm an engineer, I solve practical problems. I hate the laws of drama sooo much." Sora sighed, leaning forward on the handlebars of the Curtiss replica, checking the messages on her wrist-com.
“So? What about you and Mackie?†Kohran continued. “Last I checked your spec, there’s more wave in you than a motoroid.â€
Jet shook her head slowly. “All I’m saying is, I’m not going to be chasing a homicidal cyber-car on this.†She knocked on the tank with her knuckles. “Because if that breaks down, it’ll break down like any other car. â€
Which meant it’d come slowly coasting or grinding to a halt, either smoking, non-smoking or blazing on fire. And the Star was out of fuel.
“Looks like the network reached its limit. It just booted me off," said Sora, not really sounding like she was bothered by it.
Kohran checked her own wrist-com. “Me too.“ She struggled to hide an amused giggle.
It was well known that Frigga’s network architecture was a little bit.... creaky.
The vanes on Jet’s back adjusted themselves silently, searching. “My signal’s fine.†Better than fine. The realisation struck her like a train. “It’s gone to emergency.â€
“On behalf of operations we have an emergency announcement. There is a high speed runaway vehicle in Tunnel B-4. All drivers in all locations are to stop in the next refuge area and wait in their vehicles. Pedestrians on foot should not cross tunnels. Vehicles in the parking area are to remain where they are parked unless directed to move by security. â€
Jet’s blood ran cold.
“Told you so,†Kohran grinned.
Sora was staring. As were maybe fifty other people who’d gathered to take pictures. It wasn’t long before they began to speculate.
Jet could feel her face go cold and pale.
“If it’s coming from B4 at full speed, it won’t be able to make turn. It’s going to come straight in through there. And that tank’s in the way.â€
------
“Miss Sierra. We have a problem.â€
“It’s coming through the Tunnel at speed. It’s not going to be able to make this turn here, at the gates to the carpark. It’s already going too fast for the trap barriers.â€
“How long to clear a path?â€
“That’s the problem. The T-72’s parked right in the centre. â€
“When that gets moved, it can go through and through the exit gate, then back around the loop.â€
“Jake. I need the tank moved off to one side. I need a safe path straight through the carpark from gate to gate. And I need it in one minute or we’re going to have a real disaster on our hands.â€
------
Myk looked at the Stig to his right. Then at the strobing lights ahead marking the refuge. A few cars had already parked up their headlights ablaze.
The tension was crushing. Both stared at the rear view mirrors, waiting for a flash of light behind. The Stig had gone stoney silent. It was an unsettling change from the chatty man who’d been waxing lyrical about the perfect balance of the Mclaren F1 they both shared.
They were a few kilometres short of the exit into the carpark.
Myk didn’t want to think about what’d happen if that thing reached the carpark at full speed. They had barriers... he’d seen them. He had to hope they’d be enough to stop some runaway.
He had to hope they’d make it to the rest stop
The alternatives made goosebumps prickle across his skin.
“This is Ray, your Safety Director. Vehicles in B-Tunnels should immediately pull in to the left hand side of the course. Vehicles in B-Tunnels should immediately pull in to the left hand side of the course. Turn rear foglights on. Make yourselves visible, this thing will be coming up fast.â€
Stig had been hugging the wall as close as he dared. He wasn’t travelling slow... not by a long shot. He was doing his level best to get the Mclaren to safety as soon as humanely possible. It was going top speed.
Easily 360kph.
The V12 strained to push it faster.
Myk saw the flash of blue light in the mirrors a moment before it blasted past with a scream from its engines. The very real possibility that the Mclaren could be punched against the wall and wrecked by the slipstream trailing behind danced through his mind for a few sickening seconds. The Stig sawed at the wheel, keeping the car under control.
It was gone a moment later, trailing a dull roar and a red glow, far ahead in the tunnel.
“Mother of God....â€
It was all the Stig managed to say.
They were travelling at maybe a hundred metres a second. A kilometre every ten seconds. And it had screamed past them so fast they might as well have been standing still.
Myk felt himself seethe inside with white, hot anger for a moment. It faded, dissolving into a sickening horror as he realised where exactly this tunnel opened out into.
It was yet another reminder of just how dangerous handwavium was, when mixed with a fool. And this was about to be demonstrated in the most horrific manner possible.
-------
Mackie knew about the tank.
Through the fog of terror, the thought occured to him to just wreck the car and be done with it... with the slim hope of them picking something salvageable out of the remains.
He pondered on it for what felt like an age, weighing the relative merits of sacrificing himself on the altar of Murphy, against letting the Griffon slam into the tank, against hoping they’d gotten the thing moving.
He looked up a moment later.
It was already too late.
------
Lifting a car isn’t hard, once you’ve got the knack of it.
Moving them was even easier. Lift up the back wheels, then push. If the car was in gear, smash the window and knock it into neutral. It took ten seconds to move one car. The Tachikoma had been drafted... a pir of them lifting a Subaru at both ends before carefully placing it out of the way.
A third towed a black Darth-Vader Buick.
2 Motoroids got in on the act, the owners directed by con-staff to where they were needed.
Most cars were quickly moved by the owners themselves. There was no real scheme to it... just getting as much space in the middle was the aim.
Despite being told not to, people darted across the centre of the room, gambling that they’d see the runaway in time. A few were grabbed by any nearby Dorsai.... most made it across and back.
It was almost chaos. It was noisy. It was on the edge of being a panic. But it was just about under control. And for that, Jet was most thankful. She boosted up above the melee of vehicles for a moment, landing at the back of a Mustang II.
She pushed it back out of the way, and kept pushing until it was forced to stop by the door of a black Testarossa. Big deal.
Another fender bender interrupted the flow of things with a hollow bang, as both drivers decided they had to get out and sort things out immediately, rather than just get out of the way. They were quickly encouraged to move on by the threat of having their vehicles moved instead.
Except for the tank.
She landed on top of the drivers compartment,
“Hey, What’s the holdup?â€
“It needs thirty seconds after cranking or it’ll overheat the starter,†answered the driver with a yawn. Jet could sees her own hard gaze reflected in the black lenses of the driver’s goggles. He had three days worth of stubble on a bony chin, liberally smeared with grime and soot.
“You don’t have thirty seconds. You don’t have twenty. Get it spinning and get it moving or a lot of people are going to die!â€
“Right, right, keep your armour on,†he waved her off.
Jet jumped down again, getting clear of the tank. The starter motor whined and struggled, cranking the engine lazily over. It popped and clattered a moment, belching a puffball or two of white smoke before dying.
“Can we get anything to tow this?†she broadcast on an open channel.
“Nothing in the time we have,†the answer came back.
The driver’s head popped out from the hatch.
“Lady... I’m not sticking around in here to die...â€
Jet snapped back. “Either get it moving, or get people killed!â€
If in doubt. Make them feel responsible. Inside, she was shaking.
“Alright. we’re not going to make this. Lets try and get as many people out of it as we can.â€
The local security commander had decided to bow to the inevitable. Jet watched as the message went around the floor crew. They kept it professional to the end. A lot of people were about to die....
One of the Dorsa, in full uniform, was herding the crowd back away from the Griffon’s path. “Get back! Everybody get back towards the walls.â€
If it did come screaming in and hit the tank - or plough through the parked cars - the debris and fire would keep moving forwards. By moving as many people as they could in the direction of the entry gate... they’d get as many of them as they could out of the line of fire.
It’d still be a horrific mess.
Ten seconds.
The tank’s engine thundered to life, belching thick blue clouds of smoke from its twin exhausts.
“Back! Back! Back!†yelled Jet, desperately hoping. A space had been cleared for it. She glanced to her left, just in time to see a flash of blue light spark into view.
------
Lime spotted Eljay at about the same moment Eljay spotted Lime. Both of them had found themselves on separate sides of the carpark in the confusion. The tank thundered to life a heartbeat later, belching blue oilsmoke from its exhausts. The asteroid itself shuddered as it clanked backwards.
Lime knew nothing more than that she wanted to be with Eljay. She glanced right. Saw nothing. And started to walk.
“Daddy!†she called out, waving.
“Stay there!†Eljay yelled over to her, gesticulating with his arms for her to go back.
“I’m scared!†And that was far moment important to her.
Eljay froze for a moment... took a quick glance in the direction of the tank. Dim blue light glowered through the smoke. He took a second to consider, glancing back at Lime.
Somebody had to stop Lime. Everyone standing there despite the best efforts of the Dorsai seemed to be watching for the car. The ignored instructions to run. Their own risk. Lime took another step. The decision was made by instinct. If the car was there, it was far enough away.
Eljay bolted, running as hard as he could.
The red form of the car loomed through the smoke, headlights ablaze, throwing a lengthening shadow down the corridor. He could almost feel the heat on his skin.
It hit hard in his lower back, tackling him forwards. The shock of it caused him to yell out as he was carried forward, before being unceremoniously dumped on the ground with a dizzying tumble.
His mind stopped spinning long enough to recognise Lime standing over him with tears in her eyes... and the full armoured form of a cyborg looming over him with an expression somewhere between regret and relief.
The pressure in his chest was crushing.
“Oh.... my...†he managed to stay, before concluding that those are pretty stupid final words. It got worse, burning down his arm, draining his strength as he tried to move.
He was aware of cold metal fingers touching his neck. There was an electric tingle to the touch that seemed to flow through his body.
“He’s asystole,†the cyber announced, almost dispassionately. “Do you want emergency biomodification? Do you want to live?â€
There was something about the cyborg’s glassy grey eyes that made disagreeing impossible. Like it was his right.
It took all his effort just to say. “Do it.â€
Lime loomed over him. “Think happy thoughts Daddy.... happy thoughts.â€
Her hand was warm as it closed around his. The cyber removed something from a compartment on his leg. It was a fat needle - practically a nail - with a big fat shot of green wave on top, mixed with a cocktail adrenaline and stimulants to kick the body into overdrive. It had to be tough to go through the breastbone and hit the heart to work.
“Sha-zam...â€
It hurt like all hell going through with a nauseating crunch, before lighting his chest on fire. It rolled through his body, filling him entirely before swallowing his mind whole, leaving him with the final idea that some of the greatest superheroes gained their powers in a moment of desperation and the certainty that ultimately, everything would be okay.
------
It took less than a second for the Griffon the blast through the carpark.
A blur of noise, light and terror that left him clinging white-knuckled to the steering wheel in the hope somehow he’d be able Mackie saw his sister standing in front of him for the briefest instant before she disappeared. He saw a man getting tackled from behind by a cyborg. He saw the T-72 with its lights ablaze. He saw camera flashes and video cameras and a single Tachikoma standing above the blur.
He saw darkness as the Griffon plunged into the tunnel beyond once more.
Mackie offered a desperate prayer to our lady of blessed acceleration....
But she didn’t deign to intervene.
-------
Jet saw Mackie in the driver’s seat.
Terrified beyond mortal comprehension. She looked right into his eyes and knew she’d never seen someone that frightened.... none that lived to tell about it anyway. His eyes had bulged out of their sockets... staring right through her.
Begging for help.
She boosted up over the top of it at the last possible moment, landing on her feet just in time to watch it disappear into the dark once more.
Disaster number one averted. But she couldn’t feel relieved.
“Code Scramble 08. Code Scramble 08.â€
It burst into her mind through her radio. Scramble 08. A Panzer Kunst code. Ordinary Human. Lethal Injury. Consent to emergency biomodification given. Whoever that was was in for an interesting ride, if they made it through the other end.
Still. It was one near fatality. And probably a whole clutch of minor injuries amongst the crowd.
And everyone was looking at her now...
“Damn it Mackie,†she whispered to herself.
-------
The Dorsai commander highlighted the Griffon’s target on the map. “It’s hamster-wheeled for now. It’ll keep running around that loop until it runs out of gasâ€
Ford stared at the marker, almost hoping the force of her gaze alone would bring it to a halt.. Dozens of others were stopped in refuge areas all along the route. If the Griffon crashed near any one of them....
“If that thing runs out of gas, it’ll crash. We can’t risk it crashing into one of those refuges. We have to stop it. Anybody who has a plan.... listen to them,†she said, her voice hardening as she spoke. “Get as many people as far away from the B-Tunnels and car park as you can. Use the fire evacuation routes.â€
She’d be damned is this event went down in history as the next Kaboomite. Not a chance in hell. She still had to talk to the Committee and make sure they were on the same page. This wasn’t a time for arguments.
One disaster avoided.
A dozen more to go.
---------
It was all in body language. Look confident. Look strong.
The Highway Star was the last record holder built in the era of hardtech machinery. The 1907 Curtiss V8 Sora Hasegawa sat astride beside her was the first. Or a replica at least.
Both machines had two wheels and spat out a wall of noise when running, and this was about the limit of what they had in common.
“Any chance you could start it them up?â€
Jet flipped her visor up.
“Sorry. Ran out of petrol.â€
3600cc’s of turbocharged rotary engine did not equal a winning formula for fuel economy. It emptied its tank just getting down to the car park.
“I’ll need a bumpstart. And a 4 litre V-8 is tough to bumpstart,†answered Sora, offfering a conciliatory smile.
“We’ll be moving them when the event is over anyway,†added Jet “That’s 43 minutes from now,â€
“I’ll be back!†the fan offered with a grin.
And after that, it was across the carpark to where the anime replicas were hanging out, prior to a panel on anime vehicle design. Ford’s GT500 restore had been parked there, with the expectation that Rally Vincent would show up. Lebia Maverick was lurking, along with the Third Highway Star and a few Tachikoma.
The event centred on the carpark, set in the bottom of an old excavation pit deep in the core of the asteroid.
It was where attendees gathered in their vehicles, just to show them off, or offer rides. A StellOil outlet provided fuel at fair rates for those that needed it, while a few chargepoints had been provided for the BEV’s to slurp.
At both ends of the carpark were gates allowing access to the tunnels of Frigga. The general idea was that it could form one full loop around, with various routes branching off. And a few secrets hidden in the dark areas.
The T-72 parked in the middle acted as a showpiece for its crew. And a nice chicane to keep morons from screaming through at full throttle - inspite of the limits and pass gates. A speed limit of 50kph was enforced near public areas. And the con rules left people in no doubt exactly who was responsible if someone got injured because those limits were broken.
Jet’d already personally escorted one fool to the landing bay after he was banned for dangerous driving, then got uppity about being treated unfairly. Joining him was a groper who groped the wrong person and got a black-eye and lifetime ban for the trouble.
Three other Kunstler from the Kammer Gruppe provided some real hard muscle to back the security. Nobody was going to try rip off some of the expensive machinery on show with them watching.
The trade hall and panel rooms were up in the accommodation block, a short drive - or lift ride - away.
She could see Vulpin Fury down by the Batmobile collection. Star of the show was a Barris Batmobile, along with an original Tumbler in camo, parked next to a blue replica. A few mundane celebrities mingled with the BNF’s, and a film crew from England who were getting in the way while trying to film a show about the ultimate evolution of the petrol engine.
The Highway Star was slated to participate in a showpiece later.
Effectively, a century of vehicular evolution was displayed on one stand. And now the world had changed, and the internal combustion engine was rapidly going the way of the dinosaurs that once fueled its mighty roar.
There was a certain pride in being the last velociraptor standing.
"Hey, big sis, I like what you've done with your body!"
Jet was snapped out of her momentary melancholy by a voice. The crowd parted around Kohran Li.
"Thanks. You're still wearing that one?" Sora answered, with a mischievous grin.
Kohran folded her arms defensively "It suits me. Have you met Yuu's boyfriend yet?"
Unsubtle change of subject there.... thought Jet.
“No..... Ikari right?â€
“One of Jet’s,†said Kohran, completing the redirection of attention.
“I know the story. Some of it anyway.â€
Sora’s eyes asked for more information from the cyber.
“They’re in his apartment together,†Jet answered, feeling painfully like a third wheel dragged into a family conversation. “I’m glad he found someone.â€
“They’re perfect for each other!†Kohran announced. “And you know Yuu deserves it, considering...â€
“Yeah,†Sora nodded.
Jet kept quiet, only knowing the truth through Great Justice reports. She’d been assigned to other duties at the time.
“So, Jet, Isn’t that pushing it?â€
“What?â€
“Anime replica panel.†she pointed right at the image in the conbook on her datapad. “The Highway Star, and a Griffon replica? In the one room? It’s just begging for the laws of drama to intervene.â€
Jet offered her an almost mischievous grin “Why do you think it wasn’t waved? It exists outside the laws of drama, in the real world.â€
"I'm an engineer, I solve practical problems. I hate the laws of drama sooo much." Sora sighed, leaning forward on the handlebars of the Curtiss replica, checking the messages on her wrist-com.
“So? What about you and Mackie?†Kohran continued. “Last I checked your spec, there’s more wave in you than a motoroid.â€
Jet shook her head slowly. “All I’m saying is, I’m not going to be chasing a homicidal cyber-car on this.†She knocked on the tank with her knuckles. “Because if that breaks down, it’ll break down like any other car. â€
Which meant it’d come slowly coasting or grinding to a halt, either smoking, non-smoking or blazing on fire. And the Star was out of fuel.
“Looks like the network reached its limit. It just booted me off," said Sora, not really sounding like she was bothered by it.
Kohran checked her own wrist-com. “Me too.“ She struggled to hide an amused giggle.
It was well known that Frigga’s network architecture was a little bit.... creaky.
The vanes on Jet’s back adjusted themselves silently, searching. “My signal’s fine.†Better than fine. The realisation struck her like a train. “It’s gone to emergency.â€
“On behalf of operations we have an emergency announcement. There is a high speed runaway vehicle in Tunnel B-4. All drivers in all locations are to stop in the next refuge area and wait in their vehicles. Pedestrians on foot should not cross tunnels. Vehicles in the parking area are to remain where they are parked unless directed to move by security. â€
Jet’s blood ran cold.
“Told you so,†Kohran grinned.
Sora was staring. As were maybe fifty other people who’d gathered to take pictures. It wasn’t long before they began to speculate.
Jet could feel her face go cold and pale.
“If it’s coming from B4 at full speed, it won’t be able to make turn. It’s going to come straight in through there. And that tank’s in the way.â€
------
“Miss Sierra. We have a problem.â€
“It’s coming through the Tunnel at speed. It’s not going to be able to make this turn here, at the gates to the carpark. It’s already going too fast for the trap barriers.â€
“How long to clear a path?â€
“That’s the problem. The T-72’s parked right in the centre. â€
“When that gets moved, it can go through and through the exit gate, then back around the loop.â€
“Jake. I need the tank moved off to one side. I need a safe path straight through the carpark from gate to gate. And I need it in one minute or we’re going to have a real disaster on our hands.â€
------
Myk looked at the Stig to his right. Then at the strobing lights ahead marking the refuge. A few cars had already parked up their headlights ablaze.
The tension was crushing. Both stared at the rear view mirrors, waiting for a flash of light behind. The Stig had gone stoney silent. It was an unsettling change from the chatty man who’d been waxing lyrical about the perfect balance of the Mclaren F1 they both shared.
They were a few kilometres short of the exit into the carpark.
Myk didn’t want to think about what’d happen if that thing reached the carpark at full speed. They had barriers... he’d seen them. He had to hope they’d be enough to stop some runaway.
He had to hope they’d make it to the rest stop
The alternatives made goosebumps prickle across his skin.
“This is Ray, your Safety Director. Vehicles in B-Tunnels should immediately pull in to the left hand side of the course. Vehicles in B-Tunnels should immediately pull in to the left hand side of the course. Turn rear foglights on. Make yourselves visible, this thing will be coming up fast.â€
Stig had been hugging the wall as close as he dared. He wasn’t travelling slow... not by a long shot. He was doing his level best to get the Mclaren to safety as soon as humanely possible. It was going top speed.
Easily 360kph.
The V12 strained to push it faster.
Myk saw the flash of blue light in the mirrors a moment before it blasted past with a scream from its engines. The very real possibility that the Mclaren could be punched against the wall and wrecked by the slipstream trailing behind danced through his mind for a few sickening seconds. The Stig sawed at the wheel, keeping the car under control.
It was gone a moment later, trailing a dull roar and a red glow, far ahead in the tunnel.
“Mother of God....â€
It was all the Stig managed to say.
They were travelling at maybe a hundred metres a second. A kilometre every ten seconds. And it had screamed past them so fast they might as well have been standing still.
Myk felt himself seethe inside with white, hot anger for a moment. It faded, dissolving into a sickening horror as he realised where exactly this tunnel opened out into.
It was yet another reminder of just how dangerous handwavium was, when mixed with a fool. And this was about to be demonstrated in the most horrific manner possible.
-------
Mackie knew about the tank.
Through the fog of terror, the thought occured to him to just wreck the car and be done with it... with the slim hope of them picking something salvageable out of the remains.
He pondered on it for what felt like an age, weighing the relative merits of sacrificing himself on the altar of Murphy, against letting the Griffon slam into the tank, against hoping they’d gotten the thing moving.
He looked up a moment later.
It was already too late.
------
Lifting a car isn’t hard, once you’ve got the knack of it.
Moving them was even easier. Lift up the back wheels, then push. If the car was in gear, smash the window and knock it into neutral. It took ten seconds to move one car. The Tachikoma had been drafted... a pir of them lifting a Subaru at both ends before carefully placing it out of the way.
A third towed a black Darth-Vader Buick.
2 Motoroids got in on the act, the owners directed by con-staff to where they were needed.
Most cars were quickly moved by the owners themselves. There was no real scheme to it... just getting as much space in the middle was the aim.
Despite being told not to, people darted across the centre of the room, gambling that they’d see the runaway in time. A few were grabbed by any nearby Dorsai.... most made it across and back.
It was almost chaos. It was noisy. It was on the edge of being a panic. But it was just about under control. And for that, Jet was most thankful. She boosted up above the melee of vehicles for a moment, landing at the back of a Mustang II.
She pushed it back out of the way, and kept pushing until it was forced to stop by the door of a black Testarossa. Big deal.
Another fender bender interrupted the flow of things with a hollow bang, as both drivers decided they had to get out and sort things out immediately, rather than just get out of the way. They were quickly encouraged to move on by the threat of having their vehicles moved instead.
Except for the tank.
She landed on top of the drivers compartment,
“Hey, What’s the holdup?â€
“It needs thirty seconds after cranking or it’ll overheat the starter,†answered the driver with a yawn. Jet could sees her own hard gaze reflected in the black lenses of the driver’s goggles. He had three days worth of stubble on a bony chin, liberally smeared with grime and soot.
“You don’t have thirty seconds. You don’t have twenty. Get it spinning and get it moving or a lot of people are going to die!â€
“Right, right, keep your armour on,†he waved her off.
Jet jumped down again, getting clear of the tank. The starter motor whined and struggled, cranking the engine lazily over. It popped and clattered a moment, belching a puffball or two of white smoke before dying.
“Can we get anything to tow this?†she broadcast on an open channel.
“Nothing in the time we have,†the answer came back.
The driver’s head popped out from the hatch.
“Lady... I’m not sticking around in here to die...â€
Jet snapped back. “Either get it moving, or get people killed!â€
If in doubt. Make them feel responsible. Inside, she was shaking.
“Alright. we’re not going to make this. Lets try and get as many people out of it as we can.â€
The local security commander had decided to bow to the inevitable. Jet watched as the message went around the floor crew. They kept it professional to the end. A lot of people were about to die....
One of the Dorsa, in full uniform, was herding the crowd back away from the Griffon’s path. “Get back! Everybody get back towards the walls.â€
If it did come screaming in and hit the tank - or plough through the parked cars - the debris and fire would keep moving forwards. By moving as many people as they could in the direction of the entry gate... they’d get as many of them as they could out of the line of fire.
It’d still be a horrific mess.
Ten seconds.
The tank’s engine thundered to life, belching thick blue clouds of smoke from its twin exhausts.
“Back! Back! Back!†yelled Jet, desperately hoping. A space had been cleared for it. She glanced to her left, just in time to see a flash of blue light spark into view.
------
Lime spotted Eljay at about the same moment Eljay spotted Lime. Both of them had found themselves on separate sides of the carpark in the confusion. The tank thundered to life a heartbeat later, belching blue oilsmoke from its exhausts. The asteroid itself shuddered as it clanked backwards.
Lime knew nothing more than that she wanted to be with Eljay. She glanced right. Saw nothing. And started to walk.
“Daddy!†she called out, waving.
“Stay there!†Eljay yelled over to her, gesticulating with his arms for her to go back.
“I’m scared!†And that was far moment important to her.
Eljay froze for a moment... took a quick glance in the direction of the tank. Dim blue light glowered through the smoke. He took a second to consider, glancing back at Lime.
Somebody had to stop Lime. Everyone standing there despite the best efforts of the Dorsai seemed to be watching for the car. The ignored instructions to run. Their own risk. Lime took another step. The decision was made by instinct. If the car was there, it was far enough away.
Eljay bolted, running as hard as he could.
The red form of the car loomed through the smoke, headlights ablaze, throwing a lengthening shadow down the corridor. He could almost feel the heat on his skin.
It hit hard in his lower back, tackling him forwards. The shock of it caused him to yell out as he was carried forward, before being unceremoniously dumped on the ground with a dizzying tumble.
His mind stopped spinning long enough to recognise Lime standing over him with tears in her eyes... and the full armoured form of a cyborg looming over him with an expression somewhere between regret and relief.
The pressure in his chest was crushing.
“Oh.... my...†he managed to stay, before concluding that those are pretty stupid final words. It got worse, burning down his arm, draining his strength as he tried to move.
He was aware of cold metal fingers touching his neck. There was an electric tingle to the touch that seemed to flow through his body.
“He’s asystole,†the cyber announced, almost dispassionately. “Do you want emergency biomodification? Do you want to live?â€
There was something about the cyborg’s glassy grey eyes that made disagreeing impossible. Like it was his right.
It took all his effort just to say. “Do it.â€
Lime loomed over him. “Think happy thoughts Daddy.... happy thoughts.â€
Her hand was warm as it closed around his. The cyber removed something from a compartment on his leg. It was a fat needle - practically a nail - with a big fat shot of green wave on top, mixed with a cocktail adrenaline and stimulants to kick the body into overdrive. It had to be tough to go through the breastbone and hit the heart to work.
“Sha-zam...â€
It hurt like all hell going through with a nauseating crunch, before lighting his chest on fire. It rolled through his body, filling him entirely before swallowing his mind whole, leaving him with the final idea that some of the greatest superheroes gained their powers in a moment of desperation and the certainty that ultimately, everything would be okay.
------
It took less than a second for the Griffon the blast through the carpark.
A blur of noise, light and terror that left him clinging white-knuckled to the steering wheel in the hope somehow he’d be able Mackie saw his sister standing in front of him for the briefest instant before she disappeared. He saw a man getting tackled from behind by a cyborg. He saw the T-72 with its lights ablaze. He saw camera flashes and video cameras and a single Tachikoma standing above the blur.
He saw darkness as the Griffon plunged into the tunnel beyond once more.
Mackie offered a desperate prayer to our lady of blessed acceleration....
But she didn’t deign to intervene.
-------
Jet saw Mackie in the driver’s seat.
Terrified beyond mortal comprehension. She looked right into his eyes and knew she’d never seen someone that frightened.... none that lived to tell about it anyway. His eyes had bulged out of their sockets... staring right through her.
Begging for help.
She boosted up over the top of it at the last possible moment, landing on her feet just in time to watch it disappear into the dark once more.
Disaster number one averted. But she couldn’t feel relieved.
“Code Scramble 08. Code Scramble 08.â€
It burst into her mind through her radio. Scramble 08. A Panzer Kunst code. Ordinary Human. Lethal Injury. Consent to emergency biomodification given. Whoever that was was in for an interesting ride, if they made it through the other end.
Still. It was one near fatality. And probably a whole clutch of minor injuries amongst the crowd.
And everyone was looking at her now...
“Damn it Mackie,†she whispered to herself.
-------
The Dorsai commander highlighted the Griffon’s target on the map. “It’s hamster-wheeled for now. It’ll keep running around that loop until it runs out of gasâ€
Ford stared at the marker, almost hoping the force of her gaze alone would bring it to a halt.. Dozens of others were stopped in refuge areas all along the route. If the Griffon crashed near any one of them....
“If that thing runs out of gas, it’ll crash. We can’t risk it crashing into one of those refuges. We have to stop it. Anybody who has a plan.... listen to them,†she said, her voice hardening as she spoke. “Get as many people as far away from the B-Tunnels and car park as you can. Use the fire evacuation routes.â€
She’d be damned is this event went down in history as the next Kaboomite. Not a chance in hell. She still had to talk to the Committee and make sure they were on the same page. This wasn’t a time for arguments.
One disaster avoided.
A dozen more to go.
---------
---------
The tunnel lights streamed past in two pale blue snakes. The interior of the cockpit seemed to flicker, like it was being lit by an old television showing static more than the usual strobe effect of speed.
A single red light flashed past, gone faster than his mind could note it. Every single spare iota of mindspace was dedicated solely towards keeping the car away from the outside wall.
Even as he knew as sure as he could smell the tyres starting to overheat that it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened.
He glanced again at the engine shutdown switches. He could stop the engine.... but then he’d lose hydraulics. He’d loose steering. He could barely keep the car out of the wall as it was.
The speed was obscene. It was faster than he’d ever gone on a road in his life. It was faster than he ever wanted to go. He never wanted to travel at speed again... never. No sir. Lesson learned and then some. So please let me stop now.
The thought occurred to him to just give up and let it crash.
He wasn’t human. They could pick up the debris.
He wasn’t sure if it was courageous or cowardice. He wasn’t sure what’d happen to the debris if he just wrecked it. 2 tons of metal and kerosene did not just stop. He’d give up and kill someone. He’d keep going and kill someone.
He was dead if nothing changed.
His sister would bail him out. She always did. Come flying to the rescue, punch a hole in the roof, slip right into the cockpit beside him and just fix the car. All would be well....
A refuge was gone in a blink. Eight seconds later it was a kilometre behind him. The next one was coming up just as fast. His comm gave an electronic warble. He answered it without hesitation, pinning it between his ear and his shoulder.
“Mackie...â€
Ford’s voice.
“I’m sorry,â€
It just blurted out, but he meant it with all his heart.
“Lets not talk about that now.†Ford’s voice was calm and certain. It was something solid to grab on to. “Let’s focus on getting you stopped. I need you to tell me how much fuel you have on that thing.â€
“Fifteen, Twenty minutes maybe. Maybe 160 litres.â€
“Good. Engine cuttoffs.â€
“In here with me.â€
The engine controls were mounted on a panel attached to the roof. Still illuminated, they were on a different circuit. N1 was at the redline, N2 was holding just below. Output shaft was at maximum, the engine’s governor kicking in to keep it from overspeeding. EPR was green. EGT was already going yellow.
As far as the engine was concerned, it was happily giving its best.
He could cut fuel pressure, or dump the fire extinguisher bottle. He could start the engine too, not that that’d help much. Disabling the governor would cause it to overspeed and explode. Cutting fuel pressure would shut it down within seconds. The fire bottle would do it even faster.
None of this would help.
“Any external network connections?â€
“No. It’s just a car Ford..... nothing else.â€
“Can you get it into neutral?â€
He tried again. No less in vain than the last time. The gear stick went into place, but it’s electronic sender unit was powerless to send a signal.
“No response from the shifter..â€
“What have you got on brakes.?
“I think I boiled the brake fluid.†He pressed on the pedal. It was still spongy beneath his foot, but the car slowed, “But I can slow down a bit. Emergency brake is gone.â€
“Just keep it circulating for now. Let the brakes keep cooling. We’ll need them later.â€
He swallowed that fat lump in his throat.
“Should I find somewhere to stop it.â€
In that moment, Mackie hoped she’d say no. If only to prove that he had permission not to go through with it.
“Not yet.†she answered, to his relief. “We’re going to get this thing stopped. We’re going to get you out of there.... Then I’m going to kill you.â€
He genuinely wasn’t sure what’d be worse. Dying in the wreck... or facing Ford afterward it was over.
The tunnel lights streamed past in two pale blue snakes. The interior of the cockpit seemed to flicker, like it was being lit by an old television showing static more than the usual strobe effect of speed.
A single red light flashed past, gone faster than his mind could note it. Every single spare iota of mindspace was dedicated solely towards keeping the car away from the outside wall.
Even as he knew as sure as he could smell the tyres starting to overheat that it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened.
He glanced again at the engine shutdown switches. He could stop the engine.... but then he’d lose hydraulics. He’d loose steering. He could barely keep the car out of the wall as it was.
The speed was obscene. It was faster than he’d ever gone on a road in his life. It was faster than he ever wanted to go. He never wanted to travel at speed again... never. No sir. Lesson learned and then some. So please let me stop now.
The thought occurred to him to just give up and let it crash.
He wasn’t human. They could pick up the debris.
He wasn’t sure if it was courageous or cowardice. He wasn’t sure what’d happen to the debris if he just wrecked it. 2 tons of metal and kerosene did not just stop. He’d give up and kill someone. He’d keep going and kill someone.
He was dead if nothing changed.
His sister would bail him out. She always did. Come flying to the rescue, punch a hole in the roof, slip right into the cockpit beside him and just fix the car. All would be well....
A refuge was gone in a blink. Eight seconds later it was a kilometre behind him. The next one was coming up just as fast. His comm gave an electronic warble. He answered it without hesitation, pinning it between his ear and his shoulder.
“Mackie...â€
Ford’s voice.
“I’m sorry,â€
It just blurted out, but he meant it with all his heart.
“Lets not talk about that now.†Ford’s voice was calm and certain. It was something solid to grab on to. “Let’s focus on getting you stopped. I need you to tell me how much fuel you have on that thing.â€
“Fifteen, Twenty minutes maybe. Maybe 160 litres.â€
“Good. Engine cuttoffs.â€
“In here with me.â€
The engine controls were mounted on a panel attached to the roof. Still illuminated, they were on a different circuit. N1 was at the redline, N2 was holding just below. Output shaft was at maximum, the engine’s governor kicking in to keep it from overspeeding. EPR was green. EGT was already going yellow.
As far as the engine was concerned, it was happily giving its best.
He could cut fuel pressure, or dump the fire extinguisher bottle. He could start the engine too, not that that’d help much. Disabling the governor would cause it to overspeed and explode. Cutting fuel pressure would shut it down within seconds. The fire bottle would do it even faster.
None of this would help.
“Any external network connections?â€
“No. It’s just a car Ford..... nothing else.â€
“Can you get it into neutral?â€
He tried again. No less in vain than the last time. The gear stick went into place, but it’s electronic sender unit was powerless to send a signal.
“No response from the shifter..â€
“What have you got on brakes.?
“I think I boiled the brake fluid.†He pressed on the pedal. It was still spongy beneath his foot, but the car slowed, “But I can slow down a bit. Emergency brake is gone.â€
“Just keep it circulating for now. Let the brakes keep cooling. We’ll need them later.â€
He swallowed that fat lump in his throat.
“Should I find somewhere to stop it.â€
In that moment, Mackie hoped she’d say no. If only to prove that he had permission not to go through with it.
“Not yet.†she answered, to his relief. “We’re going to get this thing stopped. We’re going to get you out of there.... Then I’m going to kill you.â€
He genuinely wasn’t sure what’d be worse. Dying in the wreck... or facing Ford afterward it was over.
“Okay... I need that broadcast to the emergency channel now. The whole committee needs it.â€
Anika answered through a speaker on the desk. “Done. And I’ve already signalled for emergency aid from Asuka. Response teams will be here within the hour.â€
Ford had managed to get three of them, the medical officer, the safety officer and the public relations officer. The rest of the committee was either in the Trade Hall, in their quarters, or otherwise busy herding cats and con-members to safety. Either way, too far away and too busy.
Sydney, the con’s medical, sat on a spare terminal. His fair hair and almost boyish face joined with a rebel alliance uniform gave him a Skywalker charm that stood at odds with the seriousness of his expression. “We’ve had ten casualties so far.†he said “Mostly light injuries. One heart attack requiring emergency biomod. No fatalitiesâ€
“Thank fuck. Evacuation?â€
Ray Holley -the safety officer from Marsbase Sara with the autobots t-shirt - was standing by the map, paying more attention “The plan is good. The last few stragglers are leaving the B Loop. The Beeb blocked an emergency door with a caravan here, so they’re stuck here.†he placed his finger over their markers on the map. “The Carpark’s about half empty already.â€
“How long?â€
He thought for a moment. “5 Minutes. Without tunnel access, it’s slow going. The plans assumed we’d have at least one, even if we had a developed fire.â€
Ford offered a silent prayer of thanks. All their planning and preparation was working. The relief flowed through her body.
Janet, the PR officer from Ganymede with the brown duster spoke next. “I’m telling them the truth.... ain’t got much else to say. Keep clear a’ the tunnels and carpark,. Keeping music on’ll keep people calm. It’s all nice’n orderly like. A few complaints over the network being cut off, some folk think we’b trying to hide something from the ‘verse at large but most understand.â€
“Okay.†Ford took a few moments to gather it all together in her head. She twirled one of those projecting sideburns through her fingers as she mulled the situation over, trying to get her mind on top of it all. "Now that we know where we are. What do we have that can stop it before it wrecks?â€
“Nothing....†said the safety officer. “No really. Nothing we have was intended for these speeds. We have crash barriers... they’re good for 2 tons at 320kph. The foam will stop it... but again, at these speeds we’re losing the driver.â€
“He’s a CI, not a human being,†said Sydney, in a cool tone. Everyone glared at him. He raised his arms in defence “I mean.... he’s tougher than a human, isn’t he?â€
Ford though for a moment “I don’t know. But I don’t want to take that chance. â€
“Can we route it to the surface? Shoot it out into space?†suggested the PRO, with a hopeful expression on her face.
“There’s no way it could make the turn onto route A2 at those speeds,†Ray answered quickly,
“Then drop the partial pressure of oxygen...†she continued
“That’ll take way too long. Half an hour, easily.â€
“And there’re people trapped in those sections.†Sydney added.
Ford flipped open her comm-link. “Anika? Can you see if anyone over in the CGI pit has anything that’ll stop it.†Her eyes scanned the room “We need more options and we need them quick.â€
----
Jeph remarked to himself on the relative unfairness of the universe, as he looked up from the stack of paperwork that he had to personally deal with, and over at the flyer tacked to the wall for MoCon.
"Hey, Jeph," Holly called out, his face appearing on one of the monitors. "Wavecall from Myk."
"Thanks, Hol," he said, picking up the handset from the base on his desk, the one spot not covered in paperwork. "Jeph's Den on Iniquity." Nene, over in the corner, snickered. Then, Jeph straightened up in his chair, shifting to female so quick there was almost an audible snapping sound.
"What?!" She listened for a second, then exclaimed, slightly lower. "What?" A few seconds of some sort of... tense voice on the other end, then she repeated quite, quite flatly, "What. No, I heard you, Myk. Crystal clear. Who the FUCK does that sort of thing?"
A pause.
"Oh, bloody fucking joy on a shit stick. How bad?"
She paled as Myk said something unpleasant over the line.
"Oh dear gods. Have they got a handle on it yet? ...fuck me, they haven't? No, do what you need to do over there. Seriously, Myk."
Another pause.
"Yes, I understand this is pissing you off good. I can feel the intensity from here. We can start on our way over to pick you up when it's all finished."
A few seconds, as she nodded her head. "We'll ship over at full burn. Holly and Geo should be able to take care of things here while we're gone. Yes, you take care too." Jeph set the handset down onto the base gingerly, slumping back in her chair. "Oh fuck."
"What's going on?" Nene inquired, coming over and setting a hand on Jeph's shoulder. A
shoulder that was already tensing up.
"Someone - it looks like Mackie - souped up some sort of car into the Griffin, and it jammed it's throttle wide open." Nene turned white as a sheet, as she remembered what the Griffin had done in the OAV. "It's already bad, and possibly going to get worse. Get your overnight bag, we're taking Starbug 1 over there as fast as we can burn."
-----
The Ferrari seemed to somehow sulk.... the red machine not especially taking to well to being parked up when something so simple had challenged its dominance. Gas turbine engines were, after all, the easy route.
They were bad. For all the reasons producing power through the use of pistols and crankshafts was good.
It seemed however, especially annoyed at being forced to park between a Range Rover, and a caravan being pulled by a Transit van.
The Ferrari’s driver took the opportunity to record a quick piece to camera while the produces busied themselves trying to figure out how to move it without blocking the tunnel
“What’s happened people is that we’ve had an emergency due to a runaway car - that isn’t ours - and the driver of the mobile production office has pulled in to the designated refuge with us. And he’s blocked the evacuation door with it.â€
He glanced nervously over the top of the crash barrier, peering into the tunnel.,
“So now we have to move it. Or we’ll be trapped in here and there might be a big crash and we’ll all be killed.â€
Anika answered through a speaker on the desk. “Done. And I’ve already signalled for emergency aid from Asuka. Response teams will be here within the hour.â€
Ford had managed to get three of them, the medical officer, the safety officer and the public relations officer. The rest of the committee was either in the Trade Hall, in their quarters, or otherwise busy herding cats and con-members to safety. Either way, too far away and too busy.
Sydney, the con’s medical, sat on a spare terminal. His fair hair and almost boyish face joined with a rebel alliance uniform gave him a Skywalker charm that stood at odds with the seriousness of his expression. “We’ve had ten casualties so far.†he said “Mostly light injuries. One heart attack requiring emergency biomod. No fatalitiesâ€
“Thank fuck. Evacuation?â€
Ray Holley -the safety officer from Marsbase Sara with the autobots t-shirt - was standing by the map, paying more attention “The plan is good. The last few stragglers are leaving the B Loop. The Beeb blocked an emergency door with a caravan here, so they’re stuck here.†he placed his finger over their markers on the map. “The Carpark’s about half empty already.â€
“How long?â€
He thought for a moment. “5 Minutes. Without tunnel access, it’s slow going. The plans assumed we’d have at least one, even if we had a developed fire.â€
Ford offered a silent prayer of thanks. All their planning and preparation was working. The relief flowed through her body.
Janet, the PR officer from Ganymede with the brown duster spoke next. “I’m telling them the truth.... ain’t got much else to say. Keep clear a’ the tunnels and carpark,. Keeping music on’ll keep people calm. It’s all nice’n orderly like. A few complaints over the network being cut off, some folk think we’b trying to hide something from the ‘verse at large but most understand.â€
“Okay.†Ford took a few moments to gather it all together in her head. She twirled one of those projecting sideburns through her fingers as she mulled the situation over, trying to get her mind on top of it all. "Now that we know where we are. What do we have that can stop it before it wrecks?â€
“Nothing....†said the safety officer. “No really. Nothing we have was intended for these speeds. We have crash barriers... they’re good for 2 tons at 320kph. The foam will stop it... but again, at these speeds we’re losing the driver.â€
“He’s a CI, not a human being,†said Sydney, in a cool tone. Everyone glared at him. He raised his arms in defence “I mean.... he’s tougher than a human, isn’t he?â€
Ford though for a moment “I don’t know. But I don’t want to take that chance. â€
“Can we route it to the surface? Shoot it out into space?†suggested the PRO, with a hopeful expression on her face.
“There’s no way it could make the turn onto route A2 at those speeds,†Ray answered quickly,
“Then drop the partial pressure of oxygen...†she continued
“That’ll take way too long. Half an hour, easily.â€
“And there’re people trapped in those sections.†Sydney added.
Ford flipped open her comm-link. “Anika? Can you see if anyone over in the CGI pit has anything that’ll stop it.†Her eyes scanned the room “We need more options and we need them quick.â€
----
Jeph remarked to himself on the relative unfairness of the universe, as he looked up from the stack of paperwork that he had to personally deal with, and over at the flyer tacked to the wall for MoCon.
"Hey, Jeph," Holly called out, his face appearing on one of the monitors. "Wavecall from Myk."
"Thanks, Hol," he said, picking up the handset from the base on his desk, the one spot not covered in paperwork. "Jeph's Den on Iniquity." Nene, over in the corner, snickered. Then, Jeph straightened up in his chair, shifting to female so quick there was almost an audible snapping sound.
"What?!" She listened for a second, then exclaimed, slightly lower. "What?" A few seconds of some sort of... tense voice on the other end, then she repeated quite, quite flatly, "What. No, I heard you, Myk. Crystal clear. Who the FUCK does that sort of thing?"
A pause.
"Oh, bloody fucking joy on a shit stick. How bad?"
She paled as Myk said something unpleasant over the line.
"Oh dear gods. Have they got a handle on it yet? ...fuck me, they haven't? No, do what you need to do over there. Seriously, Myk."
Another pause.
"Yes, I understand this is pissing you off good. I can feel the intensity from here. We can start on our way over to pick you up when it's all finished."
A few seconds, as she nodded her head. "We'll ship over at full burn. Holly and Geo should be able to take care of things here while we're gone. Yes, you take care too." Jeph set the handset down onto the base gingerly, slumping back in her chair. "Oh fuck."
"What's going on?" Nene inquired, coming over and setting a hand on Jeph's shoulder. A
shoulder that was already tensing up.
"Someone - it looks like Mackie - souped up some sort of car into the Griffin, and it jammed it's throttle wide open." Nene turned white as a sheet, as she remembered what the Griffin had done in the OAV. "It's already bad, and possibly going to get worse. Get your overnight bag, we're taking Starbug 1 over there as fast as we can burn."
-----
The Ferrari seemed to somehow sulk.... the red machine not especially taking to well to being parked up when something so simple had challenged its dominance. Gas turbine engines were, after all, the easy route.
They were bad. For all the reasons producing power through the use of pistols and crankshafts was good.
It seemed however, especially annoyed at being forced to park between a Range Rover, and a caravan being pulled by a Transit van.
The Ferrari’s driver took the opportunity to record a quick piece to camera while the produces busied themselves trying to figure out how to move it without blocking the tunnel
“What’s happened people is that we’ve had an emergency due to a runaway car - that isn’t ours - and the driver of the mobile production office has pulled in to the designated refuge with us. And he’s blocked the evacuation door with it.â€
He glanced nervously over the top of the crash barrier, peering into the tunnel.,
“So now we have to move it. Or we’ll be trapped in here and there might be a big crash and we’ll all be killed.â€