Throttle Twenty-Eight

The Little Mercies was strange, as far as bars went. Or at least, Diana thought it was strange, but maybe that was just her lack of familiarity with alien bars.

The bar’s bar was on the far wall, a long table that might once have been sleek but was now pitted by rust and worn away by constant use. The surface was clearly some sort of metal, if the magnet-bottomed tankards sticking to it was any indication.

The rest of the bar was built like a large hexagon, with each ‘side’ counting as a floor where tables and chairs and sofas were placed. The middle of the room had a pillar from the far wall covered in handholds for patrons who wanted to move around.

“Hey, weirdo! You’re blocking the entrance.”

Diana glanced over her shoulder, then grabbed a ring next to the doorway to pull herself out of the path of a sort of large jellyfish creature whose skin was gently cascading through a whole host of neon colours. “Sorry, bud,” she said.

The alien slid past her, some of its tentacles reaching out to grab things and redirect its flight across the room.

“Making friends, Mistress?” ChaOS asked as he entered the bar right behind the alien.

“I guess so,” Diana said. She glanced around some more. There was music playing in the background, or at least she assumed the beeps and boops were some sort of music. A few of the aliens were bobbing in time with it, so she figured that was a safe bet. The bar itself was full, every chair before it taken, but the rest of the room had plenty of empty seats.

The thing was, she hadn’t come here to sit down and do nothing.

Her attention was pulled to one of the floors above her, where a couple of tables were brought close to each other and a group of aliens were being rowdy around a holographic projection in a big tank. The projection had little figures moving around at some speed, and was constantly changing viewing angles.

That was a race!

“Found some friends,” Diana said. She shifted around, planted her feet on the wall, and shot herself off across the room towards the tables.

On arriving close, she grabbed the back of a chair, then almost flipped when the magnets holding the chair in place let go. Only a quick tap of her thrusters kept her from bumping into the back of a big cat-like alien.

It turned and glared at her.

“Sorry,” Diana said. “Just wanted to see the race. Who’s winning?”

The alien sniffed. He was a polerin, a male if Diana had to guess. His suit covered most of his body like ancient plate mail, though it was painted in browns and yellows. His head was uncovered though, except for a mask-like device clinging to the side of his face which was very obviously plunging into his throat. A mask that didn’t obscure the mouth? It was bizarre.

“Little Awa is in first. She’s the cockiest of the bunch,” he said. “Got good chips placed on her.”

Diana looked at the projection. It was clearly showing some familiar corridors. Parts of the station she was in? And in the centre, as the focus of the camera, was a group of little aliens darting around trams and across lanes of traffic. There were four security vehicles after them now.

She watched as the racers ducked into a tight corridor, most of them grabbing onto a well-placed pole to spin their momentum around in an arc. One of the little aliens was a bit too slow to let go though, and they ended their arc by smacking into the wall of the corridor, then bouncing off the other.

The aliens watching groaned, one of them smacking the table with obvious frustration.

“That’s Syncyn out,” Diana’s new buddy said.

“They glanced over their shoulder at the end there,” Diana said. “Too worried about security and not worried enough about moving fast.”

The polerin nodded his big head. “That’s right. He got caught last week, got a nasty beating for the trouble. Probably worried him too much. Poor idiot. Better odds for me though!”

The race continued, the view changing as cameras were switched to keep up with the racers and the security forces hounding them.

The next switch revealed a cordon of security forces blocking off a corridor.

Diana could feel the tension rising as every alien leaned forwards.

Nets were flung out, and the little racers, with only milliseconds to react, came around the corner and faced an entire wall of moving obstructions.

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Diana paid attention to the little alien in the lead, Little Awa’s eyes went wide on the projection, then they fired off a blast of gas that sent them hurtling out of the way of the net before them and into the side of a security guard.

Diana grinned as the little alien flipped around, grabbed the guard, and then used them as a battering ram to catch another net headed their way.

It caused immediate chaos in the ranks of the security forces, not that their ambush didn’t work. A couple of the little racers ran headlong into nets or had to slow down enough that the guards were able to grab onto them.

“Are the racers all kids?” Diana asked.

“Hmm? Never seen this, huh? Yeah, they’re all station brats.”

“Orphans?” Diana asked.

“What? Well, maybe a few. Most are just doing it for fun, and for the money.” The big polerin said. “I’m Abatrath.”

Diana nodded. “Pleased to meet ya. I’m Diana. You bet a lot on these?”

Abatrath made a strange gesture. “I’ve only been on this station for two weeks. There are races like these every day.”

“And you already know who’s the best, huh?” Diana asked.

“I know my way around a race,” he said. “You’re not a local either. Here for the Tyrant Cracker?”

“Is it that obvious?” Diana asked.

He made another gesture she couldn’t read. “This station is the ejection end of a huano. There’s nothing worth looking at here.”

Diana chuckled. “Fair enough. Yeah, I’m here for the Tyrant Cracker. You’re a racer or a better?”

“Why can’t I be both?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s fun,” Diana said with a growing grin. “Aiming to come in second?”

“Second?”

“After me.”

The polerin’s eyes narrowed and his ears shifted back. “You’re on, Little Diana,” he said. “I remember most of the good racers out there. You’re not one of them.”

“Oh no, I’m not good, I’m the best,” Diana said. “Never participated in the Tyrant Cracker though.”

“Then you’ll just die,” he said absently. He almost dismissed her as he continued to watch the race on the projector.

“Why’s that?” Diana asked. She glanced over to ChaOS, then sent a text to the robot, asking ChaOS to get her something to drink. She was standing out without food or drink.

Abatrath gestured to the projection. “You see how Little Awa is going well? She knows the course, and she has a thruster pack made for a full grown polerin. She’s clever. A good racer, yes, but a prepared one. You, if you really don’t know about the Tyrant Cracker, aren’t prepared. And that means that you probably won’t lose: you’ll die. At least you might make the show more interesting.”

“I guess you’re not wrong,” Diana said. “I don’t know much about the race. But you do! So, how about you tell me what you know?”

The big cat turned towards her and gave her a slow blink. “No. I don’t see the point in that.”

“Well, we could make it more interesting. How much is the knowledge worth to you?” Diana grinned. “How about a thousand Core Bones.”

“A pittance.”

“If,” Diana continued. “You win. And if I win, you tell me everything you know about the race. Maybe show me what a properly prepared racer looks like.”

Now she had his undivided attention, enough so that he didn’t even glance back as the girl on the projector won her race. “If you win what?” he asked.

“A race,” Diana said. “You and me, this station. Same as those kids there. We can even use the same course if you want. It’ll give you the advantage, I think, but I’m fine with that.”

Abatrath’s cheeks twitched up in what Diana suspected was a feral smile. “That is very little effort for so grand a reward.”

“Yeah, but I really want to try flying around that way. And besides, I get to learn about the Tyrant Cracker right after,” Diana said.

Abatrath bristled. “You’re presuming that you’ll win.”

“Pretty much a forgone conclusion,” she said. She had met a few people like this guy. Not aliens, but similar people with similar attitudes. She had the impression that he really was a good racer, but he was also the sort that put more value in things like preparation than skill. Her opposite, basically. “What, you think I’m wrong, kitty cat? Then prove it.”

***