The Demon Drivers BOOK IV - Ch. 3: Pure Chaos
The Demon Drivers BOOK IV
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Parker’s stomach lifted up, his arms and legs began to float. Panic swept over him. The cockpit around him shuddered and shook. His body fell forward. He stared at the brown earth below. The ground rushed up at him. The wind whistled all around, screaming louder and louder. He focused on the airspeed indicator. The digital tape rushed by, scrolling upward so fast he could barely read the numbers. He was falling . . . falling.
Do something! Parker screamed at himself. This was no way to begin his training. His mind was blank.
A person’s true character is revealed by what he does when no one is watching.
Outside, on the giant screen, everyone was watching, watching him plummet toward the ground. But they’re not in the cockpit. I am. I’m the one who’s about to crash. So do something!
“Ignite boot thrusters!” Parker felt a shuddering beneath his feet. His body was crushed downward. He felt his face sag. He accelerated as the powerful thrusters came to life, propelling him toward the ground. He arched his body, lifting his head up. Gradually he pulled out of the nosedive. He pulled up a bit more, until he achieved a positive flight attitude and was gaining altitude. He reduced his thrust levers and felt the Battle-suit stabilize. The shuddering ceased, replaced by a gentle feeling of soaring.
“Sorry for the delay, Doctor,” radioed Parker, “that mid-air drop caught me by surprise.”
“Nice recovery, Parker,” Dr. Seabrook replied. “Maintain current heading and altitude, please.”
“Roger that.” Parker estimated his altitude to be approximately ten thousand feet. The altimeter confirmed his hunch. He looked side to side, straining to see what was behind as well. There were no clouds. Just endless blue. Below stretched miles and miles of brown terrain. Craggy mountains and vast expanses of high desert. He wondered where he was. “Where am I, Doctor?”
“A pilot must always know his location within three miles. So you tell me, Parker.”
Wise guy. Parker checked his navigation system display. The electronic moving map showed a 3-D topographical image of the United States. Somewhere in Nevada, a tiny pink dot flashed. He zoomed in, closer and closer, scaling the image down to less than one hundred miles. The pink dot became an image of a Battle-suit. He was flying somewhere above the high desert not far from Las Vegas. He scaled down even more, to less than ten miles. He located the tallest objects within several miles, several mountain peaks and some high-power communications towers. There were mountains to the east and west, and the towers to the south stood three thousand feet high. He noted their location and height. It wouldn’t do to end his first flight by crashing into them.
The radio scratched to life in his helmet. “Parker, this is General Ramsey. How are you feeling in there?”
“Fine.”
“Glad to hear it. I see you’re examining your surroundings, locating potential flight hazards. Well done. Who taught you that?”
“No one. One day after school, I was in Skycade flying and I hit one of those guy-wire things they use to anchor tall radio towers. After that, finding tall objects just seemed like a good idea.”
“Indeed,” said General Ramsey. “Why don’t you try some simple maneuvers while we get set up out here?”
“Uh, okay.” Maneuvers? Like what? Backflips? Parker increased his throttles and climbed a thousand feet in altitude, then dove for the ground. He was contemplating executing a loop, or an Immelmann, or maybe a Cobra Dance, when he felt a shudder beneath his right foot and warning lights lit up inside his cockpit. A warning bell began to chime repeatedly. He immediately pulled-up into straight-and-level flight.
A calm female voice spoke inside the cockpit: “Warning . . . right boot thruster failure in five seconds.” It was the voice of his Battle-suit’s Flight Management System.
“Shut down right boot thruster,” Parker instructed.
“Unable. Thruster interface is unresponsive.”
Parker quickly flipped a row of silver toggle switches in front of him, manually shutting down the entire engine.
“Warning, electrical storm approaching.”
Parker looked up from inside his cockpit. He was flying directly into an ominous dark grey cloud bank. He had spent too much time with his eyes inside his cockpit and had failed to notice it. It was a rookie mistake, and Parker chided himself as smoky, ominous clouds blossomed in the sky all around him. Blue and white squiggles of lightning zigged and zagged inside the clouds. Electricity crackled all around him. He immediately increased power on his functioning left boot thruster and began a steep turn back toward the way he’d come, away from the storm.
Parker was suddenly blinded by an intense flash of light.
CRACK!
A massive bolt of lightning arced out of the cloud and struck him square in the chest. The jolt knocked him backward. A loud ringing filled his ears. He felt like one of the exploding baseballs he and Bubba were planning to hit off the roof of Sky City North. His heads-up display vanished from the inside of the canopy and the entire instrument panel went dark. Even the warning chime was cut off, though his ears were still ringing so loudly he doubted he could have heard it anyway. The thrust from his left boot cut off. He was like a dry leaf being blown on the autumn wind. He arched his body and flipped over backwards, straining to look behind himself until he saw the desert below. He straightened his body and flew, or rather, fell, inverted toward the ground. Here we go again. Still, an unpowered free-fall was better than being sizzled like Bubba’s bacon inside a burgeoning electrical storm.
As he fell, Parker forced himself to remain calm. This is not real, he reminded himself. Though it looked real and sounded real. The lightning bolt that hit him had certainly felt real. He’d flown near thunderstorms many times in the Skycade simulator, though the software prevented him from actually flying into the storm itself. Secretly, this was something he had always wanted to do. He had always thought a vehicle as advanced as a Go-Boy Battle-suit could easily withstand the forces inside a thunderstorm. He made a mental note to ask Igby about it. In the meantime, he had to contend with General Ramsey’s attempts to drive him into the ground.
Parker waited before initiating the Battle-suit’s start-up sequence. The outage caused by the electrical surge was likely a temporary one. Once the system dissipated the electricity, the suit ought to function again. He hoped.
The brown, craggy desert rushed up at him. The peaks of the jagged mountains grew steadily larger. He was nearly able to discern the finer features of the terrain, cactus and scrub brush. In a few seconds, the jack rabbits would be looking up at him, their long ears listening, pink noses twitching.
Parker waited as long as he dared. Keeping his eyes trained on the oncoming desert floor, he began flipping the appropriate switches by feel, working from memory. He kept his eyes on the ground below, or, in this case, above him. Blood was rushing to his head and his pulse pounded in his ears.
The Battle-suit came back online. The computer displays blinked to life and the heads-up display flashed onto the inside of the canopy again, projecting all the relevant flight information out into the air in front of him. At the precise moment he felt the left boot thruster come alive, he raised his arms out to his sides and curled his knees into his chest. The powerful blue jet of plasma pushed him over backward until he was flying upright. He quickly straightened his legs again, positioning his boots directly beneath him. His descent rapidly slowed. A few feet above the ground, he cut the power and dropped, landing neatly on one foot, stirring up only an inconsequential cloud of desert dust.
The radio in his helmet scratched to life. “Well done, Parker.” It was General Ramsey. “Nice recovery.” In the background, Parker heard Sunny, Bubba, and Igby going nuts cheering for him. “Listen, you’re looking good in there. How would you like some company?”
“What kind of company, General?” A rush of adrenaline tingled his body as he considered the possibilities. Was General Ramsey going to put him up against other pilots? Was he going to have to go head-to-head with Gunner? Would General Ramsey make him fight with only one boot thruster operational?
“The other kids are getting strapped-in to their simulators. Take off and resume previous heading and altitude. All your systems are back online.”
“Okay. I mean, roger.” Parker allowed himself a moment to enjoy his relief; he had survived General Ramsey’s first test.
He powered up and took off, climbing into the clear blue sky.
“You should see the others in the sky around you shortly,” radioed General Ramsey.
As if on cue, the other Battle-suits appeared from out of nowhere. They hovered in mid-air, held aloft by the cones of blue plasma beneath their massive feet.
“Hi, Park!” Bubba smiled from inside his cockpit. He waved a massive hand at Parker. “That was some totally plasma-kicking flying!”
“Yeah!” echoed Sunny.
“It sure was,” added Igby. “Even though the lightning was a cheap shot. In the real world, lightning doesn’t typically do much damage to Battle-suits. At least, I don’t think it does.”
“But only an idiot flies into a storm like that,” said Colby.
Parker hated to admit Colby was right.
“Let’s try something relatively simple,” said General Ramsey. “Parker, have the others join up on you to practice some basic formation flight.”
“Understood, General,” said Parker. “Everyone, form up. Sunny, you’ll be on my left. Igby, number three to my right. Bubba, you take the number four spot left of Sunny. Colby, take the number five position to the right of Igby.”
“Why can’t I be in second position?” asked Bubba. “I want to be your wingman, Park, like we do in Skycade.”
“In Skycade, it’s just you and me, Bubba. Now that there are five of us, I want you in the rear of the formation. You have the most important job: watch our six. You and Colby need to work together to make sure no one sneaks up on us. If they do, we’ll all be dead before any of us knows about it.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” said General Ramsey. “Fly heading three-six-zero, please.”
Parker accelerated out of his hover and turned north as General Ramsey had asked.
“I’ll fly straight-and-level, guys. Nice and slow,” radioed Parker. “Sunny and Igby, line up on me. Keep your eyes on me.” He watched Sunny and Igby fly closer to him. “Bubba, you line up on Sunny. Colby, flank Igby.”
Slowly, the other kids accelerated out of hover and flew towards Parker. He rolled over on his back and flew while looking backwards at them.
“That’s it,” said Parker. “Line up in a V-formation. Like a flock of birds.”
“Everyone remember to make small adjustments to thrust and make tiny control inputs,” said Igby.
“Good point. Thanks, Igby,” radioed Parker.
“No sweat, Parker. Coming alongside you now.”
“Looking good, Ig. Bring it in . . . that’s it . . . nice and tight.” Igby lined up just a few feet from Parker.
“One meter separation,” said Igby.
“Very nice.” Parker reached forward and held out his Battle-suit’s massive hand. Igby slapped it with his own.
“Oh, how cute. A mid-air high-five,” said Colby.
“All right, Sunny,” radioed Parker, “your turn. Bring it in nice and easy, just like Igby.”
“Okay,” said Sunny, “here I come.” Sunny’s Battle-suit wobbled and wavered as she closed in on Parker and Igby.
“That’s it, Sunny,” said Parker. “Looking good. Steady now . . . steady. . . .”
“It’s not as easy as it looks, is it?” said Sunny.
“You’re doing great, Sunny,” said Bubba.
Sunny continued to close in. She began to lose altitude. “What’s happening? Am I going to crash?”
“You’re not going to crash,” replied Parker.
“You increased your angle of attack, Sunny,” said Igby. “You increased the drag on your Battle-suit without increasing thrust. Increase thrust slightly to compensate.”
“Like this?”
Parker watched Sunny make an adjustment inside her cockpit. Her Battle-suit began to climb. In a few moments she succeeded in joining the formation. She looked over at Igby, then up at Parker. “I did it.”
“Go, Sunny!” cheered Bubba.
“Perfect,” said Parker.
“Couldn’t have done it better myself,” added Igby.
“Beginner’s luck,” Colby called out, “especially for a girl.”
“All right, then,” Parker countered, “Bubba, you and Colby form-up next.”
“Yes, sir,” said Colby. Colby’s radio transmission dripped with sarcasm. He looked toward Bubba. “Age before beauty, fat boy.”
“Suck my wake, Mr. Wizard,” said Bubba. He shot across the sky, straight at Colby. Just before they collided, Bubba pulled up hard. A second later, Colby was lifted up and somersaulted over backwards several times, tumbling awkwardly in the air.
Bubba looped around and came down close to Sunny. He quickly kicked his feet out in front of him to reduce his airspeed. He neatly joined the formation just to the left of Sunny.
“That wasn’t funny,” said Colby. “I could’ve crashed.”
“Oh, yeah, uh, sorry about that, Colby,” Bubba said. “I guess the suit just got away from me a little.”
“Maybe the pizza and the doughnuts and the Frinkies should’ve gotten away from you, too,” said Colby. “‘Oh, I’m Bubba. I’m out of control. Look out, here I come . . . where’s the buffet?’”
Colby accelerated toward them. The blue cones of thrust flared brightly beneath his boots. Parker immediately knew Colby had overdone it. He was heading straight for them and he was coming fast. “Colby, you’re coming in too hot. You have to slow down!”
But it was too late.
Colby’s Battle-suit rocketed straight at them.
“Scatter!” Parker called. He slammed both throttles to full power and shot upward, away from Colby’s incoming, out of control suit.
Igby peeled off to the right while Bubba cut his power and dropped straight down out of the formation. Sunny lit both thrusters. Cones of blue plasma hissed from her boots and she broke formation. But not soon enough.
Colby plowed through the formation and slammed into Sunny. The head and shoulders of his Battle-suit struck Sunny’s legs and flipped her violently over. She cartwheeled out of control. Her rotational inertia combined with the powerful thrust spitting from her boots. In seconds she was spinning toward the rocky desert floor like a balloon let loose to fly through the air.
“I’ll teach you to hit girls!”
Parker looked down just in time to see Bubba fly into Colby. Bubba checked him hard with his shoulder and massive forearms like an ice hockey player.
“Hey!” Colby shouted. He managed to grab hold of Bubba and in moments they, too, were spinning out of control. They pushed each other around the sky, all the while falling toward the desert below.
“Igby,” said Parker, “where are you?”
“Over here, Parker,” replied Igby. “I’m experiencing some sort of malfunction.”
Parker saw Igby through the clear bubble canopy of his Battle-suit, fidgeting with his controls. “What kind of malfunction?”
“I’m not sure. Some sort of power failure.” Igby began to sink. The blue plasma waned and flickered. “Throttles are unresponsive,” reported Igby. “I’m getting bus warnings all over the place.”
“Try re-routing power from your back-up battery,” suggested Parker. “Bubba, let go of Colby. Sunny, throttle back to idle, you have to stop your spin.”
“Make him let go of me first, Park,” replied Bubba.
“You hit me, fatso,” countered Colby.
“Nothing’s working, Parker!” radioed Sunny. “Someone help me!”
Parker checked his heads-up display for the altitude of each Battle-suit. The hard, unyielding ground would soon become an issue. “You guys!” Parker called out. “This is ridiculous.”
“You can say that again,” said Colby.
“You’re going to be flat as a pancake in about five seconds, hot shot,” said Bubba.
“At least I don’t daydream about eating pancakes,” replied Colby.
“I suggest you let go.”
“You let go!”
“You!”
“No, you!”
“Losing altitude, Parker,” announced Igby. “Total system failure.”
“Parker!” called Sunny.
Completely frustrated, Parker slammed both throttles to maximum and launched himself straight up into the vast blue sky. He streamlined his body, almost willing his Battle-suit to fly faster and faster. The brown desert floor disappeared as he left the chaotic scene far below him. The blue sky became a deep azure blue as he gained altitude. The altimeter on his heads-up display climbed as fast as his Battle-suit. He passed through one hundred thousand feet. All around him, the indigo sky deepened further, becoming almost black. Soon, Parker mused to himself, I’ll be among the stars . . . away from all this.
The sky suddenly disappeared. All around him the simulator video displays shut off. He stared at the inside of Simulator Thirteen. He felt a slight vibration and then a thump as the sphere settled to the floor. He heard a buzz and a clank. The green COCKPIT SECURE light flashed to a bright red COCKPIT UNSECURE. The gull-wing door opened slowly.
General Ramsey appeared in the open doorway. “Well. That couldn’t have gone worse.”
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