With two patrol troopers barrelling down on us, we make for the tidal flats, the water is low-tide but slack tide is over; I was planning on crossing on the next cycle because it’s too close to the torrent of incoming tidal water. And that water comes in hard and fast but there’s nothing for it, we gotta take our chances and hope we make it across the narrows. This particular spot is the shortest distance to cross but it’s also the most dangerous because all the tidal forces are pushed into a narrow funnel-like fiord system, this causes a gigantic, powerful wall of water to come smashing its way down the narrows, they call this place ‘The Maw.’
Since I already shot down their more expensive drone, the troopers send a cheaper comms drone, it’s saying; “stay where you are civilians, do not run, stand down for identification and inspections.” So, I shoot that one down too, but that tells them that I’m entirely hostile. They will most certainly call-in backup now.
In the distance, I see it; a huge wall of water coming down the narrows. It’s hard to tell from here but it looks like it’s maybe 90 to 100 paces high.
When I was younger, I always wanted to be a hoverbike racer. I used to hotrod all my hoverbikes to get more punch out of them, imagining myself on the tracks in the circuit races, banking hard turns at breakneck speeds. I even managed to do some smaller local races, even landed a local sponsor, a hardware store in Bigville; that was until my wreck that nearly killed me. If it wasn’t for that wreck, making me lose my nerve, I could have gone pro. My point is, I can ride, certainly better than these damn troopers. Down in the tidal flats, it’s not all flat and empty, it’s full of jagged rocky structures, like some kind of coral that evolved to thrive in this environment, I figures. “Jo, hold on tight, like your life depends on it.” And I punch it, full throttle, running the engines hot, nearly to the point of melting. I removed all safety protocols a long time ago from Deadeye, I know my hoverbikes and I know what the engines can take or not take. “Let’s see if these goddamn troopers got what it takes to catch me!”
“Dear Lord,” is all Jo can manage to say.
I’m not really sure what madness or maybe pride makes them do it, but the troopers chase me into The Maw, pushing their patrol interceptors full throttle to try to keep up with me.
We bank, lean and turn, dodging the choral structures blurring past us, using reflexes and skill that only years of hoverbike riding and experience can instill. The troopers fire a couple warning shots at me, but they miss by a lot; too many turns and obstacles to get any kind of clean shot. I have the urge to return fire, but I need to stay focused on maneuvering and keep my eyes on the winding line through a treacherous pathway. It’s a lot like a maze down here; with the way the choral is positioned, I have to turn straight into the general direction of the giant, towering wall of water, at least for a short run before I can find my pathway to the shoreline. Up close like this, it’s even higher than I thought. The route I need is up ahead, dangerously close to the fast-encroaching wall of water, but I think I can make it just before the water overtakes the pathway, maybe.
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But that’s not the biggest problem, making that turn at this speed is; it’s a tight turn. So, I do a reckless and dangerous maneuver that is banned in the pro circuit, I call it a ‘reverse-drop.’ The process involves spinning a 180 degree turn with the afterburners fired up to slow down enough to make a hard bank turn without smashing into the wall. Even over the roar of the hoverbike, I can hear the thunderous rumble of the wall of water that is now nearly upon us. Upon doing the maneuver, I’m looking straight at the troopers a moment before I make the hard bank turn into the corridor of coral. These troopers don't know how to do the reverse-drop maneuver, but one tries and loses control, and he smashes into the coral at full speed, likely an instant death. The other one slows down too much to try to make the turn, so they are overtaken by The Maw, smashing them upon the coral under a massive force of water. I’m sure I’ll be blamed for killing these troopers, even though it was their own damn fault.
It ain’t over yet, I race as hard and fast as I can for the only grade close enough to get us high enough and fast enough, so we don’t have a similar fate as the troopers. The Maw is barreling down on us because the corridor runs nearly parallel to the incoming torrent. As we begin the ascent, I’m starting to worry that I might melt the engines, they have been relining too long, even for my standards. Deadeye is signaling to me that all systems are critical and near failing, but I need a little more, just a little more; she can take it… I think. Almost there… water crashes over the back of the hoverbike, nearly making me lose control and nearly knocking us off, but we make it and the engines shut down because they are swamped and the bike drops onto the ground, there wasn’t even enough time to lower the stands. The hoverbike slides on the ground while we just try to hold on and hope it doesn’t roll, it finally comes to a stop.
“That was some ridin’ there, son,” I’m looking at three bounty hunters, locked onto me with heavy assault carbines.
The one in the middle continues, “I’m Longin Pete, see, and this sour looking fella be Bullseye Bill, this here lovely young lady here is Salty Sally and we sure are happy to make your acquaintance. After we heard about ole Bighands Ben, we decided to team up. Thirty percent of something is better than 100 percent of dead. And I sure am glad you made it across, we might never have found your body to collect that fat, juicy bounty. I figured you’d head to Thunderbird, it’s a large population to hide amongst, and this is where you’d likely cross, so we just had to wait, is all. And for the kinda payday on your head, I’d wait here a month for you. Fortunately for me, I didn’t have to wait so long.”
“Shit,” is all I can think of to say but then I add in, “that would be a third, not thirty percent.”
“That’s okay smart guy, mathin’ ain’t my strong suit, but tracking is and I’m the best there ever been.” Says ole Longin Pete with a grin.