The final spacecraft entered Seccuterra’s humid atmosphere, a bean in the land of giants. Seccuterra stood out from other terrestrial planets due to the behemoth, ever-rising trees shrouding its sole continent, and any stretch of earth that might have been accessible had been covered by the trees’ ever-tangling roots, which coiled mazes of gnarled, twisted paths.
In comparison to the mysterious planet, the spacecraft was modest in not only size, but by design. It had been manufactured according to the typical transport model: a round, central hub for the spacecraft’s control deck and crew, as well as fourteen different cabins for its passengers. The cabins circled the central hub as it soared through string-like cirrus clouds, each half of seven connected by a multitude of titanium rings to yield the coveted saucer silhouette. As forewarned, the jungle canopy proved far too dense for the space craft to descend, and it followed a charted path until it reached a clearing that revealed the planet’s famous reservoir.
The reservoir itself was held aloft by leagues of branches and trees, sitting pretty in its wooden crater nearly two hundred metres above the forest floor. It had taken centuries to bend, twist, and mold the trees’ gargantuan branches together to shape a sturdy enough cavity to collect rainwater, but the reservoir had long since become self-sufficient, even providing life to plentiful, tropical flowers which grew around it like weeds. At the edge of the reservoir was a landing port, the only landing port on the planet, and the spacecraft switched gears as it prepared to land. The resulting turbine forces wreaked havoc on the usually stable tree branches, and a bout of leaves were scattered onto the reservoir, where they bobbed along the water’s surface in a chaotic tango that echoed the frenzy of people gathered on the root shore.
Colourful tents had been precariously tied onto the roots, and people of species from all over the galaxy meandered in and out of the tents, gossiping and gorging themselves on the free food and cocktails. The crowd rippled with excitement when the spacecraft came into view, pushing past one another to get closer to the landing station. Situated by the tents were members of Seccuterra’s native host species, the kratuaten, who stared down any migrants or wanderers of the crowd like the careful watchdogs they were.
Lights flashed in warning along the port as the spacecraft prepared for landing. Several sets of shock struts emerged from the bottom of the central hub and stretched towards the landing strip as the spacecraft beeped until it completed its slow descent. The two support beams that connected each half of the cabins halted, then spun ninety-five degrees until the cabins were swung into a vertical line, perpendicular to the central hub, and the spacecraft exuded a shuddering hiss. Four kratuaten leaped forward to secure the vessel, their strong, furry arms — which made up much of their body mass — moving quickly to secure the spacecraft’s undercarriage.
“Stand clear!” yelled an organizer, calling through a hand-held megaphone. She aggressively waved her fluorescent directing sign. “Stand clear from the walkway!”
The crowd shifted and bumped to follow the organizer’s bidding, eagerly peaking over one another’s shoulders, tails, and horns in attempt to get the clearest possible view of the disembarking contestants. The spacecraft’s upright cabins began to rotate, spinning like a true ferris wheel, until the first carriage was aligned to the port. The door opened, and once the kratuaten stabilized the descending ramp, the spectators raised their cameras and other recording devices.
A scaled claw stepped into the light and onto the ramp with a force that shook the hefty metal. Several gasps emerged from the spectators as the drazdol fully emerged in his shining glamour. Like teeth, serrated horns poked from joints and curled out between golden scales, and the drazdol’s wicked reptilian eyes seemed to glow above his fanged jaw.
“Incredible! Feast your eyes, folks, feast your eyes,” exclaimed Garrish from his petite hover chair, zooming above the landing strip. As a plexin from the Truplite planets, his booming voice was perfect for his role of sport commentator. Despite his small, fluffy stature, it wasn’t difficult to locate the little commentator, so long as one had functioning ears. Garrish continued in his surprisingly deep voice, “You better take your pictures and holographs now, because I doubt you’ll be seeing another drazdol in person any time soon. I bet he could fit my whole body in that mouth of his!”
The spectators laughed along jovially, some nodding their heads and others wiggling their antennae in agreement.
The ramp receded back into the cabin and the next cabin swung into place, kratuaten shuffling to secure it. The next contestant stepped onto the ramp, shaking out her long tail of plumed feathers. She smiled and waved her razor sharp talons at the whooping spectators.
“It seems we have a vanceroid joining us this year!” exclaimed Garrish. “I wonder if those wings are more than just for show…”
More contestants filed off the spacecraft one by one, marching like proud heroes despite having come into such attention by the grace of luck. Even still, it was difficult not to be spellbound by the chosen competitors of the most televised program of the year, and spectators eagerly snapped their cameras as if starved of photos. Garrish continued to announce the final reveal of contestants who had travelled from all over the galaxy.
“And look! It seems we have another chanoleer — those slimy suckers sure are fast — Ah, and a tentakloid is making her way down the ramp with minimal difficulty. I believe that’s another notch down for our Space Race Bingo, under aquatic, octoped contestant. A friendly reminder to G-shoot any winning cards you might have to our organizers, my friends. Please do not call our operators during this time.”
Creatures of all sizes and biologies marched onto the landing port. The crowd oohed and aahed at the marvelous contestants, then laughed with Garrish at the tiny quintoid who had little chance to win the race but still seemed excited to compete. And then a human stepped onto the ramp, and the cameras stopped flashing at once.
“My, oh my,” started Garrish, his tufted ears flickering, “I can’t remember the last time a human has competed in the races. Her hair is terribly short, isn’t it?” His tone turned light again and the cameras resumed flashing. He joked, “Maybe she keeps the rest of it in her luggage! ”
The human in question made no attempt to acknowledge the Space Race commentator. Her chopped hair was often a point of speculation, and she had no reason to defend why she had not grown out her prized, luxurious mane of human hair. She adjusted the strap of her duffel bag over her shoulder and swiftly crossed the ramp, uninterested by the crowd or the cameras pointed at her. The human’s name was Juno, and she hadn’t flown across the galaxy to entertain.
Juno followed the kratuaten’s directions to the guest tents, passing other contestants who had stopped for interviews or to woo the spectators. She stopped only at the end of the port to survey Seccuterra’s mysterious landscape, leaning against the wooden rail on the opposite side of the crowd.
Seccuterra orbited a dwarf white star and its light shone down onto the reservoir like a beacon, but from Juno’s standpoint, it seemed like the rest of the planet was even darker than the ads and brochures had alluded. Under the dense forest canopy, branches laid out like highways and dark, murky sap flowed through roots like rivers. The circus of excitement was too loud for Juno to catch any helpful signs of possible fauna, but the empty landscape was telling. The grey, dreary scenery reminded her a little of home.
At her guiding kratuaten’s insistence, Juno continued the rest of the way to the guest tents, where she was directed into a small cot in tent #4. Rooms were walled off by hanging tarps strung up by bungee cords, and the other contestants’ raucous activities were distracting. She absently wondered if sleeping outside would be a viable option.
Once the kratuaten volunteer dropped the makeshift tarp door, Juno tossed her duffel bag onto the ground. She fell onto her stomach and checked underneath the bed. Satisfied at the empty space, she also searched the short nightstand provided for anything suspicious or free. She doubted she would have actually found a recording device or anything sinister, but it was an action out of habit more than anything. She pocketed the tube of toothpaste and took the other toiletries from the nightstand drawer and stuffed them deep into her bag.
“Contestants, please prepare to meet in front of the stage in one hour,” called a voice through the speakers.
Juno glanced at the bed and decided she would gain more from a quick look around the port than napping. She pushed the tarp aside and backtracked to find the exit. Sweeping past other contestants, it was easy to ignore the stares she received until she reached the common area, where many of the contestants had gathered around, drinking and eating on the furniture like they had nothing better to do.
A low, guttural voice called out as Juno walked between the crowd. “Hey fleshy, how much did you pay to bribe your way into the race?”
She kept walking. The journey to Seccuterra had been long and she wasn’t in the mood to talk.
“You deaf or something?” the voice came closer, and Juno had to sidestep to dodge the clawed hand that had reached out towards her shoulder.
She glared at the drazdol chuckling down at her.
“Easy there. I’m not about to waste my energy picking a fight. I’m just curious about you,” said the drazdol, and a few contestants behind him gathered around the confrontation, eyeing Juno like a bug on a wall. “The fact that you even applied in the first place is an injustice. What happened? Did you decide you didn’t have enough private aircrafts or something?”
“Just leave it, Kane,” said the vanceroid that had also disembarked Juno’s ship.
“No, I don’t think I will. I think we’re all wondering why the race committee didn’t stop this nonsense at the start. Of all the good, hardworking people who applied to get into the race, why would they let a human in?”
“The race is tomorrow. They won’t be picking any new contestants now, so get over it,” replied Juno, arms crossed. Typical that the drazdol only decided to interrogate her when the cameras were gone.
“He has a point, though” chimed a chanoleer as more onlookers gathered. Her six violet eyes narrowed at Juno. “I mean, why did you apply? You’re taking this chance away from someone who could actually use the opportunity.”
Juno rolled her eyes. “I bought a ticket and the lottery spat out my number, same as the rest of you. If you were really so concerned with ‘granting opportunities’ for other people, maybe you should have coughed up your own ticket for someone else instead of griping on me.” She twisted on her heels and stalked off without another word, ignoring the string of insults behind her.
Once she made it out of the tent, she walked the perimeter of the campsite, shaking off offers of interviews and scam endorsement deals. She knew that being a human would give her some kind of attention, but after she turned down the eighth reporter, she wished humans were as common as chanoleers.
From the number of guest tents and the rooms Juno counted in tent #4, there were probably just over fifty contestants, assuming the other three tents were identical. So far, her biggest competition seemed to be that drazdol, Kane, but she also sighted a skeefer, whose slight figure and leather wings were bound to give it an advantage in Seccuterra’s constricted terrain. Juno had a slight climbing advantage as a human. Although it was nothing compared to the skill of a kratuaten, it might be enough to help her reach the canopy if need be. The branches twisted up together to dismaying heights, and she wondered what sort of vehicles would be available during the race.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Every year, the organizers of the Annual Super Speed Universe Race worked tirelessly to keep the program fresh and exciting for the viewers. From the contestants to the host planet and even the vehicles, every aspect save for Garrish was alternated, and the official rules weren’t announced until the night before the race. Last year’s race was held on the tundra of a small, icy planet, where the contestants had plenty of room to battle it out on the racetrack in search of the finish line. As much as skill played a part in winning, one couldn’t forget that luck was always a factor in the races. Some of the provided vehicles had faulty engines and would routinely burn out on unfortunate contestants. But as a self-taught mechanic and an underground racer, Juno wasn’t worried.
However, as she made her third trip around the campsite, she had yet to catch sight of even a single vehicle. Agitation began to fizzle in her gut. Not even the race organizers were using anything beyond small electric carts, a far cry from the countless trucks and speedwagon that had been donated to them last year. But perhaps the Committee had decided to keep as much of the race secret as possible, Juno told herself.
“Contestants and spectators, please begin to make way to the main stage,” rang the speakers. “The opening ceremonies will commence in thirty minutes. Contestants, please bring your winning tickets and identification.”
Juno walked quickly, wanting to keep from getting caught in the crowds. Thankfully, she was one of the earliest to arrive, and she marched directly to one of the workers who lined the entrance of the open stage.
“Spectator or Contestant?” asked the volunteer.
“Contestant,” Juno said.
“Winning ticket and Identification and Origins Card, please.”
Juno reached into her inner jacket pocket and handed over her crumpled identification papers and her crisp, shiny ticket.
The volunteer aimed a scanner at her ticket with a beep, before giving it back to Juno, who carefully zipped the ticket back into her jacket just over her chest. The volunteer read over her identification with a frown and tried to smooth out some of the wrinkles.
“Alright, everything looks in order. Head on over to that area behind the stage,” the volunteer said. Just before he returned Juno’s papers, he hesitated. “Just one thing. Are you…are you really from —”
Juno snatched back her papers, stuffing them into her pocket and headed backstage. It seemed like everyone was just itching to get into her business.
Just behind the stage where cameras and tall stands for the audience were aimed, where the light was dim, Juno was directed onto one of the podiums — fifty-six, she had counted. As a human, there was no chance she would be tall enough to stand in the back and she scowled as she was made to stand in the second row, far too close to the center for her liking.
Like a curtain, a holographic light show separated the stands from the contestants, but she could just make out silhouettes of spectators filling in the empty spots behind the bright colours. It didn’t take long for the other podiums to be filled by the rest of the contestants. Loud chatter reigned from both sides of the stage, a noise that was still foreign to Juno. The tentakloid to her right tried and failed to start conversation with her while they waited, and she breathed a short sigh of relief when the lights onstage dimmed and all conversation ceased.
Through the speakers, trumpets started to blare a grand, unmistakable tune as blue and gold lights flashed along the stage. The crowd thundered. Juno noticed that many of the contestants around her also clapped, swayed by the excitement even behind the holographic separator. Garrish zoomed out from behind the stage, his hover chair decorated with more lights than usual, and he held a pearlescent microphone in his tiny hands. From a large screen offstage, Juno could see him waving to all parts of the audience and pointing and winking to people seated at even the furthest corners. It seemed he had managed to squeeze a velvet top hat between his ears.
“A very good evening to all of our spectators! It’s been a long day for all of us, hasn’t it?” started Garrish, and when various agreements rose from the audience he nodded along in dramatic sympathy. “Mhm, mhmm, of course. But whether you’re in the stands or watching from home, I hope you aren’t too tired yet, because the real show has yet to begin.”
The lights dimmed, and a sudden hush stole over the audience.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and all the good dears in between and beyond,” Garrish began as he took off his hat and pressed it to his chest, “I want to thank you for taking time out of your busy days and spending it with us here. We are truly humbled to be able to put together this spectacular event every year. Now, without further ado, I would like to welcome you all to the 105th Annual Super Speed Space Race!” he bellowed, and the crowd echoed his excitement.
A shower of glittering sparks fell like rain from above the stage, where multicoloured lights flicked back and forth, further fueling the glamour. Two cannons on either side of the stage fired holographic fireworks above the stage. Juno stared at all of the bright colours, astonished at the extensive display.
Garrish plopped on his hat again. He pulled out a confetti toy and popped out a jubilant stream of streamers, tossing the prop over his shoulder once the florescent streamers hit the ground. “Yes, yes, cheer it up, folks,” he continued. “Let’s give a warm thank you to our hosts this year, the kratuaten, who have so generously offered us their planet to stage the race! And what warm hosts they are!”
The camera zoomed in on the audience section where some of the kratuaten stood, shoulders stiff and eyes like ice.
“Yes, yes, incredibly lovely people, the kratuaten. And as you might already know, the organizers of the Space Race have been hoping to hold the race on Seccuterra for quite a few years now, and to do so, we have been working closely with the kratuaten to ensure the event doesn’t disrupt their way of living and their laws of the land. But before I get to this year’s rules, I believe there are a few contestants you’d like to meet.”
The holographic curtain split, the light disappearing from the middle outwards, as if the two halves had been sliced and pulled apart. The bright light from front stage beamed onto Juno’s face, hot and uncomfortable, and she resisted the urge to duck as the floor beneath her and the other contestants shuddered and pulled forward, bringing the fifty-six contestants in front of the roaring audience. Many of the contestants waved and smiled into the crowd as cameras blinked from every angle Juno could see.
The sheer number of people and the different species assembled together in one spot was jarring for Juno to experience. She absorbed the different body parts ahead of her, the many eyes, the wings, the tails, the scales, and near the top of the stands in their own private box, she caught sight of three humans, who clapped along with great smiles stretched on their faces. Their hair reached well below their hips, and glittering jewels had been threaded in through the strands in intricate braids and curls. Juno couldn’t help but wonder what they thought of her.
The holographic curtain pulled back to the center. The cheers died down as the image changed colours, and a bright, glass scepter appeared in the center. Contestants and spectators alike stared at the scepter, like moths to a flame.
Garrish zoomed to center stage, several feet above Juno’s head. “Alright, alright, now let’s get to the rules, shall we?”
Finally, Juno thought, as the plexin host waved an arm at the glowing 2D scepter. Garrish cleared his throat, “As always, the basic terms of the race remain unchanged: first racer to find and grasp the scepter with all hands wins. Any conflicts between racers that exceed attempts to only stun or temporarily disable one another will result in immediate disqualification and possible investigation by the Intergalactic Force. No stabbing, no maiming, and no choking. Of course, our medic team will be on the watch for any extreme injuries. But let’s have a clean race this year, yes?”
Garrish stared at each of the contestants, who smiled and nodded their acquiescence. A sleek hover cam whizzed circles around the plexin. “You’ll be delighted to hear that we will be using the newest editions of hover cams! These babies will record activities in spectacular definition for both the spectators’ enjoyment, and to ensure our lovely contestants here follow the rules.
“Now, here is where things get…interesting. As I mentioned earlier, the Space Race Committee has been working diligently alongside the kratuaten to ensure that the race itself brings as minimal interruption to their ecosystem as possible. Therefore, there have been some more radical changes to what we’ve been used to. This year, the race will be a full blown, scavenger hunt for the scepter! There will be no race tracks, no roads or guides, only the contestants fighting it out in a fenced quadrant in the jungles of Seccuterra. For both fairness to other participants and to reduce possible damages, there will be absolutely no flying above tree tops, no reckless tampering of trees, roots, or other general vegetation, no purposeful injury to surrounding fauna, and finally, no vehicles.”
“What!?” Juno hissed beneath her breath. Her fingernails drove harsh crescents into the flesh of her palms, and half of the other contestants swore and growled their own protests.
Garrish hurriedly spoke over the rustle of complaints, “Yes, I’m sure we’re all very surprised, but the race will still be just as exciting as ever! As you know, we are reaching a quinquennial with the 105th annual race, and so our hard-working Space Race Committee have made things extra special this year. I am happy to announce that our fifty-six contestants will be paired off to compete in teams. Which means double the prize money!”
As Garrish continued to pacify the audience, Juno felt a weight sink into her chest. After so many years of buying Space Race tickets, of course the one year she had been miraculously admitted was the only year that vehicles would be prohibited.
“Folks, folks,” Garrish urged, “I’m afraid these are the official rules, and they cannot be altered. However! We won’t be throwing our contestants into a race without proper equipment — we’re not savages.” A variety of weapons, from staffs to guns, shone on the holograph curtain. “In replacement of the usual vehicles, Y&M Mechanica has generously donated their seasonal picks of stun weaponry. These beautiful pieces of equipment will, in their own ways, emit enough electric currents to temporarily stun an opponent for just over a half hour. To accommodate for our smaller contestants’ body frames, they will be issued chest protectors. And, of course, we will have our usual assortment of toys available.”
Juno couldn’t listen to Garrish’s lecture on the sophistication of the newly issued weapons. There seemed to be a slight ringing stuck in her ears, and she couldn’t focus on anything except containing the nausea that broiled in her stomach. She remained torn over what should have been, even as Garrish started to announce the partners for the race.
An image of two slot wheels rolled on a floating, holographic screen, randomly partnering the contestants into teams. Once the slots stopped on a new pair, spotlights overhead beamed down onto the respective contestants, and the excitement of which contestant was paired with who was enough of a distraction for the crowd to forget their earlier grief. Juno faintly registered when the tentakloid next to her was paired off with one of the chanoleers, and that Kane had been paired off with a greitan, a three foot-tall feathered species whose wings would likely be a useful advantage despite the new rules. The spectators applauded the perfect team, and many people called out to the bleacher betting-bots to place wagers on the new partners — there was no question they’d be one of the favourites to win.
The slots rolled again and Juno heard Garrish call her name as a heat covered the crown of her hair, once the spotlighted shifted onto her. She raised her eyes.
“For the first time in two hundred years, we have a representative for humans competing in the race — Juno Grant!” began Garrish. “Keep an eye out for this one, folks, she could have any number of tricks up her sleeve. And for Juno Grant’s partner…Costellan Scarberskritt!”
Juno tiredly looked over her shoulder and it took her a moment to locate her partner, who stood in the back row. Her heart leapt.
“Reigning from the planet Skathari, this beetle-man towers at seven feet and ten inches!” Garrish read from his teleprompter as everyone stared wide-eyed at the monster of a being. Costellan’s golden eyes shone like high-beams against the dark platelets of his exoskeleton, which covered his bipedal frame from head to toe like a true insect. His antennae flicked under the uproar of attention and he waved at the stands as Garrish whistled. “Good lord, I’m still taken aback by his armour. And it’s all natural — believe me, we checked — so it looks like all that mass is going into the track with him!”
Costellan caught Juno’s eyes and he smiled, she realized when she caught sight of his gleaming, sharp teeth beneath the protective shell around his face. She nodded in return. The audience scrambled to catch the betting bots’ attentions, shouting over each other, and the weight in Juno’s chest lifted and soared.
The race committee could keep their vehicles, she thought. She focused on the remaining contestants and the teams that were formed formed.
Soon Garrish announced the final team, and several ads from the Race’s sponsors ran on the holographic screen.
“That marks the end of our opening ceremony! And as a surprise hint to our contestants, just remember: the scepter’s whereabouts can be seen just over the ledge.”
The contestants burst into activity, some whispering thoughts to their respective partners if the other was close by, others looking up into the canopy, trying to guess just where the ledge might be. Juno repeated the words silently to herself once. She glanced back to see her partner, Costellan, mirror her own visage of calm collection, and felt again that the world had finally done right by her.
*