HALL OF CONSPIRACIES
RAVEN HANGAR
Isabel Kalishnikov
WarChild emerged from the male locker room. I knew enough about him to know that he would come back to the launch bay to do a post-flight inspection of the RavenClaw. I admire the diligence but I was about to interrupt his work.
I waited until he was half-way across the hangar before making my move. That’s when I let off the clutch and roared my lunercycle across the floor at him. He never even saw me coming. Here in the hangar, my cycle’s engine was masked by the sound of mechanical activity.
I screeched to a stop right in front of him. The high-pitched screech of my tires echoed throughout the hangar. He jumped back a few meters and had a crazed look of surprise.
“Get on!” I shouted.
He was so surprised that he did as he was told. “W-what’s going on?”
“Put the P-helmet on.” I shoved the second air helmet in his hands.
“Okayyy. You do see I’m not wearing a pressure suit, right?”
He put the helmet on and to my surprise it fit him perfectly.
“Hold on. And I mean hold on tight.”
With that, the motorcycle lurched into action. The cycle shot between two fuel trucks.
“Oh my Lord!” he shouted. “That was close!”
We were getting to the end of the hangar. I slowed and brought the cycle around in a sharp arc. “Hold on. Do not lean. Just stay perfectly still.”
“Is this supposed to be some kind of team building?” His tone was snarky.
I resisted the urge to get defensive. “That’s exactly what this is. Now, something you should know about my cycle. If I hit something start to flip, I just need to hold onto the handlebars. You, on the other hand, might get flipped over my shoulder so it’s in your best interest to warn me of all things.”
“You are planning to keep your eyes open, right?” he asked.
“Well, yeah. But I don’t intend to zig or zag until you say what we see. So it’s not a good idea to warn me at the last moment. Here we go. Hold on.”
I gunned the cycle. Even with the extra weight, the cycle bolted. In no time, we were going much too fast.
“Look out!” he shouted. A red vest had emerged from behind a stack of ordinance. I had already seen him, but pretended not to.
The cycle picked up speed, heading back the other way. “Don’t say look out. Tell me what I don’t see.”
“Fuel hose! Straight ahead. 30 mark, 20, 10, 8, 6, 4, jump!”
There was a rubber hose stretched across my path, big enough stop my front wheel and send WarChild flying. I dropped the gear and gave some gas. The engine whine, the bike jolted, the front wheel popped up. The back wheel hit the hose and we jumped into the air. Even with the added weight of WarChild, I managed to land the cycle cleanly.
I brought the cycle wide to the right and we headed toward the Mace Raven.
“Low clearance! 2 meters.” was all WarChild had time to say before we ducked under the wing. “Cargo carts; two of them staggered; left side 10 and right side 11; gap 3 meters!”
“Got it,” I replied. We slalomed between the carts that were coming off the back ramp.
“5Hole! Hope he moves!” he shouted, pointing to the pilot standing right in our path.
Mace Raven’s pilot jumped out of the way, dropping his flight pad. He shouted some kind of slur that involved a power tool.
My pulse, racing with fear. I love fear. It creates a heightened state of awareness. Most people hate fear. They fixate on how bad it feels.
I relish it. I can see what normally wouldn’t be seen, think of solutions normally hidden and hear sounds normally ignored. I knew everything going on in the hangar.
I was even aware of Speerman, up on catwalk above, watching my antics. Oh well, no stopping now. He’s already seen this stupid stunt. If he intends to clip my wings, he’ll do it whether I stop or not. Might as well finish this lesson.
“Secure for VFF boost,” I called over my shoulder.
Breathlessly, he said “VFF is the booster system on the Ravens.”
“In my cycle’s case, it means Very Freakin’ Fast.” I popped a wheelie again and we took off. WarChild leaned into my back. Strangely, it felt comforting. Why? Why would I feel that way?
Because. My edgy co-pilot and I were about to merge together- either in death or understanding.
I aimed the cycle past another fuel truck and straight toward the airlift. The doors were opened and I brought the cycle screeching sideways to a stop. The lift, big enough to carry a Raven up and down from repairs. Inside the chamber we were tiny.
My shout echoed in lift. “Lift Operator, take us down to the repair bay.”
To my surprise, the doors actually closed and the lift buckled into descent. I wasn’t so sure if my credentials could yet get me easy access to and from the building. Getting a no from the lift operator would have only ended the ride a little early.
I felt WarChild lean as he kicked a leg around and try to get off. “This was great. Good work, team! I think the ride is over.”
I gunned the cycle and it jumped just enough to make him rethink getting off. “Oh, no. The ride hasn’t even begun.”
“I want off.”
“You get off this bike and it’ll be the end of your career within the Ravens.” I stretched my mastery of knowledge. I couldn’t guarantee any such thing any more than I could guarantee I’d have a career after this stunt. I was jeopardizing everything I’ve worked for. Perhaps by staying on this bike, I was dooming his career too. It was a risk I was willing to take. I’m normally not so full of, of boyvado.
He scowled at me. Walked right up to me. “Whatever you say, Miss Thing. But you better be going somewhere important with this little thrill ride.”
“Yes. I am going somewhere important. This is a training mission. You are going to trust me. Or we both die.”
“You’re so adorable,” he replied. “You actually think I’m scared.”
The lift door finally opened unto the Tube. We were 200 meters under the surface of the Deimos and Capitol City. The Tube was the transportation hub for critical materials. Vehicles, machinery and hazardous materials could all move freely without the concern of traffic. Of course, there was a department of control for The Tube. And I didn’t think they’d take too kindly for a couple of ill-mannered scamps on a motorcycle.
I throttled my little cycle. To be honest, I’ve always wanted to bring my cycle down here and just open up her little 900 hydrogen cc heart. A reluctant passenger would slow me down and take some of the fun out of it. But, oh well. You know.
I brought the cycle to bear on the main artery of the tube. At this hour, construction traffic was pretty light. A few heavy trucks were milling up and down the roadway. Their reflective paint stripes gleamed in my cycle’s headlights. Big, hulking trucks hauling debris or building materials. Pulling onto the underground boulevard, I gunned it and cut in front of a big earth mover. It wailed on its horn.
“Here’s the game,” I said. “Let’s see who can outlast the other. I want you to count to 100 without stopping or pausing. I’m going to try to get us to the up-swing in the boulevard. Let’s see who can beat the other.”
“I’m reasonably sure this is stupid.”
We launched ahead. Before he got to 10, I swerved between a transport van and flatbed truck. I could hear him counting through the speaker in my helmet. As he got to 20, we came upon three dump trucks moving in formation. I dodged across the two directions of the magnerail tracks at a sharp enough angle that my wheels didn’t stick in them. I heard WarChild continue counting calmly. Either he didn’t see the danger in jumping the rails or he was calm. As he got to 33, we caught up with the MagneRail as it made its way up the line. We began to pass it on the left. It was when he got to 42 that I saw two more transport vans coming at us. They flashed their headlights at me. So, I steered the cycle up the pipe wall on the left to dodge them. WarChild got to 48 as two construction trucks came at us, side by side. I sped up enough that I was able to cut to the right, just before the magnerail.
But there was an over-sized bulldozer in our ongoing lane moving really slow. So I dodged up the pipe wall on the right and passed it. I caught a pause in WarChild’s counting. He cleared his throat and continued.
“You know this boulevard?” I asked my FO.
“Yeah, I know the Colonel Adler Boulevard.”
“Good. Because, I don’t.” I took the helmet off his head, flipped it around and put it on my head backwards. It smashed my nose but it covered my eyes.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Oh my gods. Really. You are not doing this sci-fi samuri shrap on me.”
I revved the bike and then shot us forward even faster. There was nothing to see. In terms of cheating, I could only see the bottom of the helmet and the bike’s front wheel. So, I really did have a sense if we were driving straight down the pipeline.
He shouted over the bike’s whine. “Oh-kayeeeeee. Right bank parallel, 15 degrees. Okay,
I managed to get us back to the building. Security was tighter at this part of the afternoon. They wouldn’t let me bring my motorcycle in this time. My Raven credential card had still not been activated. So I had to find a place to park my bike outside of the Hall of Conspiracies.
“Look, I’m going to head back up while you park your wheels.”
“Okay then,” I replied. “Do you feel like we had an emotionally scary yet, light-hearted breakthrough? Between you and me, I mean?”
He sighed, rolled his eyes up and waved his finger. “Okay. I admit that you have good reflexes and relatively good situational awareness. Okay?”
He turned to the revolving door. And over his shoulder he said “But I still don’t trust your judgment. Not yet. Taking a bike on the Adler Boulevard? For real!”
He banged his helmet against mine. “You better know what you’re doing. I mean it. You better know because it is us. Any decision you make, you make about us.”
He’s starting to like me.
This is a short science fiction story from the sci fi cartoon series Ravens of Mars. All content copyright D.S. Meyers 2016. www.RavensofMars.com
