Return to Ōban

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Return to Ōban

By Daryll Pung

One:  Get This Party Started

Rated: R

            My name… is Eva.  Eva Wei.  Of course, the majority of the Earth Alliance Coalition doesn’t know me as that name.  They know me as Molly.

            It’s kind of amazing, the year I had seven years ago.  If you want to get technical I shouldn’t even be here on Earth.  I also shouldn’t be talking about it; the government and military classified it all the second we got back from our travels.  Some way or another, though, most of it leaked out five years ago.

            No one has made the connection, ironically.  “Molly” is a public idol, a hero even, although she hasn’t been seen since then.   Virtually nobody realizes that Molly and Eva is the same person.  The same can be said to the fact that my mother was famed Star Racer Maya Wei, pilot of the Cloud II when it crashed in 2072.

            Heck of a thing to lose your Mom when you’re only five years old.  Especially when that crash was deliberate as a result of a plot to gain virtually unlimited power.

            A plot I was involved in, unwillingly… and a choice I refused, willingly.

            I should be on Ōban.  I should be the Avatar, mystical guardian of the galaxy; instead, I’m here before you.

            It’s kind of a long story, but I’ll see what I can do to summarize it for you.

            It actually starts with my mother’s crash.  A being called Caneletto, the Avatar before Satis, who was the last Avatar and whose reign as such ended only seven years ago (it’s a ten-thousand year cycle), had originally refused to give up his powers as the Avatar… and ended up forcibly restrained, imprisoned for all of Satis’ reign.  He plotted to steal back the power he’d lost, and as such needed a pawn… and he picked me.  He rigged my mother’s death- through an intermediary, I suppose; never truly found out- by sabotaging her Star Racer, which resulted in the crash that killed her… although for a long time I believed it was the Phils Ambassador, Spirit, who was responsible, since he was racing her at the time.  At any rate, this caused the dissolution of my family; my Dad, Don Wei, lost it, and believing no one should be around him- something about people dying near him- entered me into the Stern Boarding School.

            That was the last time I saw or even heard from him for ten long years.  The other students believed I was an orphan.

            In 2082, after I’d turned fifteen and developed into quite the technician and hot rod on my little self-built jet scooter, I’d had enough.  It wasn’t though I didn’t know what my Dad was up to; he was all over the news, a successful race manager… if harsh and extremely critical.  I knew where to find him.  I figured at the time that all I had to do was find him, and we would be reunited, a family again. 

Boy, was I ever naïve.             

After I escaped from the school on my scooter, I tracked him down all right.  He didn’t even recognize me.  In my hesitation as he was demanding my name, I resolved not to make it easy for him… and noting a poster of swimsuit model Molly Spring nearby, I told him my name was Molly.  He would’ve thrown me out right then if I hadn’t demonstrated my technical prowess fixing a broken Star Racer right in front of him.

The next thing I knew, he was off on some secret mission for the ECA, recruiting two of the best mechanics ever- Stan and Koji- from Miguel, a legendary Star Racer designer and mechanic; he also bought the two prototype racers they had at their facility.  Next he looked up an old champion of his, the famed Rick Thunderbolt, for his pilot.  Then he made possibly his most fateful choice ever… he picked seventeen year old Jordan C. Wilde to be the gunner for the newly named Whizzing Arrow Star Racers.  I was not to be dissuaded so easily, however; I followed them, spied on them, and ultimately tagged along as a stowaway, even after a Crog ambushed them as they were preparing to depart.

            The Crog.  They are fearsome, tall, powerful… and very, very aggressive.  They usually wear a sort of body armor, favoring red colors; they themselves are all black, with two to four black spikes- or ears, not sure- coming from the top of their heads, and glowing yellow eyes.  They have conquered or subdued numerous worlds, and Earth was next on their list.  They were the motivation that carried Jordan through everything that followed; they attacked his grandfather.  Well… that, and the fact that he loved me.

Anyway, that was what the mission was all about; Earth had been invited to participate in the Great Race of Ōban, where the winner would receive the Ultimate Prize- supposedly whatever they wanted.

As it turned out, Rick wound up in a near-fatal crash that ended his racing career on the planet Alwas, during the first race of the qualification rounds.  Again, Caneletto rigged it, via a Skrub saboteur (the Skrubs are the natives of Alwas).  And Jordan was good at blowing stuff up, not piloting.  So, it was- I thought at the time a fateful coincidence- left up to me.  And I acquitted myself rather well, earning us third place overall and a trip to Ōban… I used the Ultimate Prize as my motivation; I was determined to win and get my Mom back… and make us a family again.

The races on Ōban, the system in the center of the galaxy, were far more intense than the qualifying rounds.  The third Whizzing Arrow- rebuilt after losing the first two, one to Rick’s crash, one to our race against Spirit (my fault; I flipped out and tried to kill Spirit)- took a beating, but somehow Stan and Koji kept it going.  During those races, my Dad finally figured out who I was; and let me tell you, that confrontation was rather interesting.  It took a side seat, though, after Jordan and I nearly got killed in a vicious crash that ended up with us deep in some canyons on Ōban.  We didn’t die, though… largely due to the remaining inhabitants of Ōban, a race of very large monkey-like creatures named Drudgers.  During our trek back, we stumbled upon an ancient temple; within dwelled the souls of the Creators, the original race in the galaxy and founders of both Ōban and the Avatar.  It was there we discovered the Ultimate Prize was a sham… the Great Race was a means of picking the next Avatar… and Satis was on his last legs.  Don’t tell anyone, though… it is supposed to be a secret.

Needless to say, I was very despondent upon hearing that; even the Avatar couldn’t bring back the dead.

            We got back several hours before the last race, where I shared my revelation with the seven remaining competitors- the eighth, who’d been winning, had been killed by ‘a random electro-magnetic field’… or so we all were led to believe; but in actuality, the great magical being Sül had fallen prey to Caneletto.  One, Muir, dropped out; I initially quit, too.

I changed my mind after Stan and Koji pulled out a miracle and patched up the Whizzing Arrow III… and realizing that if General Kross- the Crog who’d replaced Colonel Toros after we beat him in our second match- won, it would be all over for humankind and for Earth.  I couldn’t let him win.

The last race was mostly a battle.  When the gate to end it finally appeared, Jordan and I teamed up with the Nourasian Crown Prince, Aikka, to beat Kross… and although Aikka got hit, we defeated Kross… and flew through the gate first.

I was supposed to be the next Avatar... but I just couldn’t do it.  I wanted to find Aikka and make sure he was all right; I wanted Jordan to know I was okay (I’d been transported alone, against my will).

            My hesitation was all Caneletto needed to break free and try to steal back the Avatar’s powers… so Satis destroyed the pyramid meant to transfer them, leaving only the original, in the Temple of the Heart, where we had discovered the Creators.  It was Satis’ last act; and Caneletto would not be allowed to gain the Avatar powers from the temple, without it being activated by someone else... namely, me.

Caneleletto then consumed the flying temple we were all housed in with some sort of dark magic… and it crashed, creating a massive explosion… one that virtually wrecked Ōban, leaving nothing more than a sandy desert waste. 

It was all my fault.

Aikka survived, as did our whole Earth Team.  We decided we had to set things right; a new Avatar had to be crowned, for the whole galaxy’s sake.  We made our way to the temple, joined by O, a mysterious and powerful being who actually sacrificed himself so that the three of us- Aikka, Jordan, and myself- could make it.

It was a trap; and Caneletto was about to get what he wanted, using me to touch the pyramid in the temple and activate it.  Jordan and Aikka both were injured.  Ultimately, Jordan got to the pyramid first… and became Avatar.  I still don’t know if Caneletto was destroyed.  Ōban was restored, and we went home… and the threat to Earth from the Crogs was over.

I still got what I wanted; I had my family back.

As I said, that was seven years ago.  I just finished my ‘higher education’… and now, something new beckons.  Jordan (The Avatar) has decreed that although the Great Race of Ōban only occurs every ten thousand years, there now is a new tournament, bi-yearly, with similar structuring to the Great Race, to be known as the Ōban Tournament.  Unlike the Great Race, this is not just an invitational… virtually anyone can enter, even multiple teams from the same world.  The winner will get a ‘boon’ from the Avatar.  Why? I believe Jordan likes the races himself.  I think he wants to have contact with others once more, despite his position.  I think he’d also like to see me again- he did confess that he loved me- so I’m not going to disappoint him.

I’m no longer anyone’s pawn.  I’m free to choose.  And I choose to keep my Mom’s legacy alive.

Molly’s coming back.  We’re going all the way.

“Hey, Dad!” came a shout.

Don Wei, clad in a black suit, with a thin black mustache and white and black vertically striped hair, heard the shout over the humming of the engines of the Star Racer in front of him.  He smiled, recognizing the voice, and turned.

It was, indeed, Eva, framed in the entrance to the hangar.  Now twenty-two, her hair was still red edged in black, though it now trailed down her back; she still wore three spike stud earrings, though now paired in both ears, plus dangling ruby prisms in each ear that matched her hair; and a bright smile spread across her face.  The dark tan tattoos on her face- a vertical stripe on the left, a star on the right- offset her smooth light tan skin; her red eyes gleamed with excitement.  She was clad in a black t-shirt and custom purple mechanic’s coveralls… embroidered with a pink bunny face in the middle.  She also wore boots and a utility belt with pouches and gadgets, including her trusty pink music player, with a rabbit’s face.  Perched atop her head, as ever, were the goggles with the rose-colored lenses, that had belonged to her mother.  He suppressed a smile; despite the progress they’d made as a family in the past seven years, she was still an incurable tomboy, albeit with quite a few unique feminine touches.  He’d had to fight tooth and nail just to get her in a dress for both of her graduations.

His smile slightly decreased.  Overall, despite the differences, she reminded him so much of her mother, the beautiful, alluring, and confident Maya. 

He shook it off.

“Eva!” he called.  He strolled towards her, and they met in a hug.  As he broke the embrace, he looked at her, a slight frown on his face.  “Why are you here?  We were going to meet for dinner later.”

Eva grinned mischievously.  “I had something I wanted to talk to you about; and it can’t wait.”

Don nodded.  “Let’s get away from this noise and talk.”

Once in Don’s office, the noise was greatly diminished; even the best soundproofing money could buy couldn’t completely dampen out the roar of a Star Racer engine blazing at full power.  It did, however, make it a lot quieter, to where people could actually hold a conversation.

“So… what’s this about, Eva?” Don asked as he sat at his desk.

Eva leaned back in her usual spot… perched on a corner of his desk.  She looked about; the office had several windows overlooking the floor.  Several Star Racers were in various stages of disassembly and reassembly.  They were all early models, including one that rather resembled the Cloud II… her mother’s racer.   The sight of that strengthened her resolve all the further.

“Dad… you can’t be really happy with this,” she said.  “You, in charge of a museum for Star Racing?”

Don eyed her.  “Why would you say that, Eva?”

            A smile crept across her face.  “I know you too well.  You’re not happy unless you’re managing a race team.”

            Don was silent for long moments.  Finally, he spoke up.  “Those… days are over, Eva.  I quit that three years ago.  You know that.  Everything seems a come down, somehow, from Ōban.  And our last trip there…” he sighed.  “It didn’t end all that well.  I don’t exactly have the best record, do I?”

            “I thought it ended all right,” Eva said quietly.  “I’ll be the first to admit I still miss Jordan, and think of him… but it’s not like he’s gone, is it?  He saved us all.”  She paused.  “The problem is, you can’t think of a good pilot… and you’d rather not ask me, to put me in that sort of position again.  Shades of Mom?  I am a big girl now, you know.  As far as the last… Dad, you’re good at managing champions.  And it’s not your fault a certain fallen Avatar rigged it so that your last two, most famous, champions both met bad ends… although I think we both agree Rick’s end was just a little better than Mom’s.”  She looked away, her expression suddenly morose.  “I’m sorry.  That didn’t come out right.”

“It’s okay, Eva.  We both miss her, and forever will.”  Don looked at her shrewdly.  “Why even bring all this up?  I take it you’ve heard about the new Ōban Tournament?”

“Yes.  I have.”  She paused.  “I want you to be my manager.”

Don shot bolt upright.  “What!?  Eva, you can’t be serious!”

“Oh, but I am.  I will race again.  Dad, can you blame me?  I won the Great Race when I was fifteen!  Most girls that age are happy gossiping with friends and dreaming about boyfriends!  Not me.  Just like you, I haven’t been completely happy these past seven years… I missed it.  I want to get back into it.  I need the speed, the competition.  Face it, Dad… it’s in my blood,” Eva concluded.  “I’d much rather have you as my manager, so that we stay together as a family… and despite everything, you are a good manager.”  She paused.  “Especially when back-stopped by Rick.”

            “Rick?” Don asked quietly, slumping in his chair, eyes wide.

“He’s been doing odd jobs since Alwas; and he can’t seem to get away from racing.  I know it tortures him he can’t race anymore… but he sure does make a good coach, advisor, and strategist,” Eva said.  “I’ll get him, next.”

            “I can’t talk you out of this?” Don said quietly.

“No,” Eva responded, equally quietly.  “Okay, things can still happen.  But today’s Star Racers are safer than ever- I know, I just completed tech courses regarding them- and there’s no Caneletto to worry about.”

Don was silent for long moments, gazing out over the hangar floor, eyes locked on to the racer that so resembled the Cloud II.  “I’ve had this discussion before,” he admitted.  “With your mother.”

“There is another significant difference,” Eva said softly.  After a beat, she continued.  “Although I’m my mother’s daughter… I am not my mother.  I have confidence, yes.  I am stubborn and determined; it is true.  But I will listen to your advice, Dad… so long as you back it up with facts and not hearsay.”  She grinned wryly.  “After all, as it turned out, Spirit wasn’t such a bad guy, was he?”

Don gave a grudging smile, acknowledging the point.  “You’ve been practicing.”  It was a statement, not a question.

“Stan and Koji have been letting me play with the duplicate Whizzing Arrow III as a reward of sorts for good grades,” she admitted sheepishly.  Her smile brightened.  “They even restored the paint job… including my bunny designs.”

“Have they.”

            Eva sighed.  “I don’t want to disparage Mom’s memory, Dad… but I am better than she ever was.  I have the best of both of you.”  She waited for a while, and then stood, noting his faraway expression.  She sighed.  “Well, I am doing this.  I wanted you as manager, and not just for one race season; but hopefully a championship dynasty… but if it’s not what you want, then I hope you’ll at least wish me luck.  I’ll be in contact as often as I can, I promise.”  She turned towards the door.  “I’ll see you later for dinner, then.”

“Eva.”  Don’s voice brought her up short.  She turned.

“You’ll be as safe as you can be?  No unnecessary risks?” Don asked quietly.

“Yes, Dad,” Eva replied.  She moved towards him, and looked straight in his eyes.  “You won’t lose me, Dad.  I promise.”

Don stood, and walked to a window, gazing thoughtfully.  Finally, he spoke.  “Very well, Eva.  It is your choice, after all… and I would much rather support that choice and be with you than anything else.  I won’t deny it; I will probably enjoy this.  It’s just…”

“I know, Dad,” Eva said softly.  “But what is the point of living… if you aren’t?”

Don nodded, and turned to face her.  “You really are growing up.”  He wiped a hand across his eyes, and then got to business.  “Maintenance?”

“Stan and Koji, of course.  They’ve already agreed; and also offered their new place as Earth Headquarters for the Seraphim Racing Team… removing the need to clutter this place up.” She grinned.

“Seraphim?” Don said, raising an eyebrow.

“’On the wings of the angels’,” Eva nodded.  “’Shooting for the heavens.’  I thought it would make a nice motto, if nothing else.”

“It fits,” Don said.  “So, Stan, Koji, Rick, myself… you as chief pilot.  Gunner?”

“I need one,” Eva admitted.  “I would be grateful for your advice in that area.  I will say, it will be hard flying with someone other than Jordan… but I’ll have to get used to that.  And though I love the Whizzing Arrow III… new, up to date Star Racers will be also be required.  Stan and Koji have been tight-lipped on that front; but I figure as manager you could handle that too.  After all, I still have to find and convince Rick… but I’ll do that tomorrow.  I don’t want to miss dinner.”

Don smiled.  “Of course not.”

Eva turned.  “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Eva?  What are you racing for, this time?” Don asked.

She paused.  Finally, she spoke.  “I want to see Jordan, again.  If this is the only way to do it, so be it.  Other than that… happiness, Dad.  Happiness.  Yours, and mine.”

The door opened as she neared it, and the loud noise from the hangar floor flooded in.  She paused long enough to turn back, and give her father a smile and a wink.

Then she was gone, and all Don could see was a pink-haired woman doing exactly the same thing in another place and time.  He sighed.

The crowds were bustling; the air was warm.  Summer was not yet in full swing, but the Earth Star Racing League season had begun months ago.  The sky was clear, visibility good, and the air carried the roars of Star Racers tuning up for the pre-race preps.  The scent of various snacks and confectionaries flowed on the breeze amongst the throngs.

Eva took a deep breath, and then let out a sigh of delight.

She spotted her quarry, and purposefully advanced towards his location.

            He was running, of all things, a souvenir stand, with another person; occasionally he was signing autographs, but more often merely chatting with passersby or customers.

He was tall, imposing; he hadn’t lost anything physically; at least not obviously.  Eva knew he’d suffered trauma that rendered him nearly unconscious whenever his adrenaline levels rose too much.  His black hair was still long, down his back; he was clad in an old racing suit, with his red lightning bolt tattoos prominently displayed on his tan skin.  Dark shades covered his eyes.

He was still Rick Thunderbolt, no matter what else.

She waited for an opening, and moved smoothly into the gaps, until she was standing nearby as he conversed with a fan.

“Hey, Rick!” she called, as loud as she could, focusing all her joy at seeing him into that call.

He spun in surprise, and seemed to study her for a moment.  Finally, he spoke.

            “Molly?”

            That one word did wonders; the crowd surrounding the area went completely silent, and still, eyes locking on to the tableau.

            Eva shrugged mentally.  It was gonna come out sooner or later.  She sauntered over to him.

            “It is you, Little Mouse,” he gasped.  “You’ve grown up, Miss Wei.”

            “Molly… isn’t actually my name, you know, Rick,” Eva said.  “Though, as you guessed properly on Alwas, I am indeed Don’s daughter.  My real name is Eva.”

            By this time, whispers were running through the surrounding crowd.

            “How is the old villain?” Rick asked.  “And Stan, Koji, and Jordan?  I know what’s been told to the public about the events on Ōban, but…”

            “Dad’s better… a lot better,” Eva smiled.  “Stan and Koji too.  Jordan…” she paused, and sighed, closing her eyes.  A single tear trickled down her cheek.

            “What is it?  What happened to him?  Talk to me, Molly- I mean Eva.  Did that Nourasian get him, or that Crog?  What?” demanded Rick.

            Eva blinked away her tear.  “Prince Aikka?  No, we worked together at the end of the races on Ōban… and also together against the Crog’s Star Racer, General Kross, who replaced Colonel Toros.  We beat him, at the end.  And then… Jordan was so brave.”  She smiled wanly.  “He sacrificed himself to save us all, Rick.”

            Rick was thoughtful for long moments.  “What can I do for you then, Molly… blast it, I mean-“

            Eva broke in.  “It’s okay, Rick.  Many racers have a racing nickname… and Molly’s going to be mine once more.”

            Rick’s eyes widened.  “You’re going to go… pro?”

            “Yes,” Eva smiled.  “I’m starting a team, focusing on the Ōban Tournament.  I have a manager- Dad- and mechanics- Stan and Koji.  I need…  I need you, Rick.  You have lots of experience, and are a good trainer.  If I’m ever injured, you’d be invaluable in training a substitute.  Plus you have excellent track strategy.  I know it is hard for you, being around racing when you can’t do it yourself any longer… but I also know you can’t live without it.”  She paused.  “None of us truly can.”  She paused again.  “You once asked me what I was racing for, what drove me, after a particularly grueling day on Alwas.  Well, now I’m racing for Jordan… and for all of us.”

            The crowd was getting closer around them … they were all hanging on every word.  Rick looked about.

            “I… I don’t know, Molly…” he said.

            “I understand what it must be like for you; I haven’t been totally content since the Great Race.  Oh, the first year, maybe… but then I could feel it, once more; the desire for speed… the need to race.  The craving for the thrill of victory,” Eva all but whispered.  “I know how I’d feel if it was all taken away… but you are still a champion, Rick… and I need you.”

            Rick began to grin, and slowly nodded.  “All right, Little Mouse.  All right.  I can’t, as you said, stay away.  If you want me that bad… who am I to say no to the champion of the Great Race of Ōban?”

            “Only because of what you taught me, Rick,” smiled Eva.  She had to raise her voice; the crowd noise was increasing with an almost electric excitement.

            “Hardly.  I always knew you had talent.”  His grin widened, and he looked around at the now very eager crowd.

            Eva scanned also; she made a face.

            Rick laughed.  “Like it or not, Miss Wei… you’re famous.  Might as well get used to it.  Come on behind the counter and sign some autographs with me… at least until the race begins.”

            Eva sighed, and nodded.  She took a single leap over the counter, one hand on the table, and landed without disturbing a thing.

            Rick nodded appreciatively.  “Everyone, may I present Miss… Eva “Molly” Wei, Champion of Ōban!”

            The decibel level got so loud; Eva couldn’t even hear herself think.  She not so reluctantly reached for the first proffered pen, smiled brightly, and began signing her name… just as Rick had said it.

            She had to admit, it had a nice ring to it.

            Two days later, Eva strolled underneath a glistening new sign- her Dad worked fast when motivated- that had re-designated the new building that was Stan and Koji’s place, built where old Miguel’s had been; he had willed his property to them, and they’d spent the last five years after his death building a new complex, which was now seconded to the Seraphim Racing Team.

            She glanced up at the brightly lit sign; the ‘S’ in Seraphim had a golden halo draped off of it, and underneath was the motto she’d suggested.  The main title was in large white lettering, bordered in black; the motto was in silver bordered in black.  A smile adorned her face as she entered the facility.

            In the back was a clone of her old Star Racer, the Whizzing Arrow III; at the time, the most advanced Star Racer Earth had had to offer.  A central, streamlined, bulbous cockpit still contained the jet scooter design she’d built, specially interfaced to the controls of the racer.  The central, rounded tunnel that the cockpit was mounted over- and containing a second access hatch in case of emergency- was the tunnel the gun turret traversed to either side, and a ground access hatch was just to the right of center on the very back of the Racer.

            By far the most impressive feature of the Whizzing Arrow III, however, were the massive engine elements, coming forward off the central shaft on twin booms, that comprised of two-thirds of the length of the Racer.  Those engines were just powerful; she knew it, knew about the huge fuel cells halfway down the booms, plus the boost and hyper drives built in… all encased in a slick blue, violet, and red fiery paint scheme… and on the left engine, a big white rabbit head with pointed teeth, with a tiny pink rabbit logo in one corner.  The rest of the Racer was silver, with gold-tinted main canopy and gun turret.

            Her attention was diverted, however, by the two shrouded shapes on either side of, and slightly in front of, the Whizzing Arrow III.  Don, Rick, Stan, and Koji were standing near the one on the left.  She wandered over.  Stan still had his longer brown hair, was wearing coveralls, and gloves; he looked almost exactly like he had seven years earlier.  Koji had, surprisingly, shaved his hair, leaving only a thin, short ponytail off the back of his head.  Otherwise, he, too, looked much as he had during the Great Race… dressed in tan clothing, complete with his analytical computer hanging at his side.

            Eva smiled at them all.  “I love the new sign,” she began.  “And if under these shrouds are the new Star Racers, then all we need is a gunner.”

            “Well, then all we need is a gunner,” grinned Stan.

            “I figured we’d interview gunners as a team,” Don said.

            “Sounds good,” Eva nodded.

            “Far cry from last time,” Rick smirked.

            Eva giggled.  “Yeah, it was just you and Dad, wasn’t it?”

            Don smiled slightly.  “I have the first interviews lined up today.  Shall we?”

            The foursome turned, and started to walk away; Eva didn’t follow.  She reached up, and touched the shroud.

            They stopped, and shared a look.

            “Oh, go ahead,” Koji said.

            She grabbed, and yanked… and gasped.

            Compared to the Whizzing Arrow III, this Star Racer was much smaller, sleeker, more streamlined.  The cockpit was angular and curvy at the same time, yet still molded into the central shaft, which had more of an egg-shaped cross-section of hull, with the narrower part facing back; the ball turret had seven co-located barrels instead of two widely spaced.  The engines were more compact, swept, and slightly rounded, and actually came to rounded points in the front, near the top.  A single, durable-looking wing connected the two engines on the inside, and while the leading edge was straight, the trailing edge curved slightly backward.  The overall impression was much different than the Whizzing Arrow III’s; if one looked at that Star Racer, one saw an overall impression of a machine designed to use brute engine power to overtake an opponent (an impression not entirely untrue).  If one looked at this Star Racer, one got the impression of speed, pure agile speed.  It was painted silver, with fiery-shaped streaks of black and gold and possessing white accents in strategic locations, emphasizing the impression of sheer velocity.  It looked like it was already racing, just sitting still.

            “Wow,” she whispered.  “Just… wow.”

            “Eva, meet the Star Angel I,” interjected Koji.

            Eva let her eyes wander; they were drawn again to the cockpit.  Her mouth widened when she saw her pink bunny logo there, just under the edge, accompanied by gold script spelling out the name Star Angel I, and silver script underneath that… with her name, as Rick had given it.

            “Is it…” she breathed slowly.

            “We left room for the gunner’s name,” Stan said.  “But to answer your question… yes, it’s faster, more durable, safer, more maneuverable, and with more firepower than the Whizzing Arrow III.  It has more fuel reserves, two-stage hyper and boost drives that are more efficient, more potent scanners and improved communications systems, just about everything you’d expect for six years in development with cutting-edge technologies.”

            Eva sighed in delight.  “She’s beautiful.  I can’t wait to fly her.”

            “We even duplicated your scooter-control system,” added Koji.

            “You guys are the best,” she whispered.  “The absolute best.”  She gazed at it for a few minutes longer, and finally tore her eyes off of it.  “C’mon… let’s go find a gunner to complete our team… and when we do, I am going to put this lovely machine through its paces.”

            “After you,” Don commented.

            She practically skipped out the door.

            The acrid stink of charred targets was thick in the air as Eva scowled.

            “Don’t get too disappointed, Eva,” Don said briskly.  “There are several teams forming on Earth and entering the Ōban Tournament; the demand for gunners- and skilled pilots, for that matter- is high.  Fortunately, we don’t have to worry about finding a pilot.”

            Eva grinned.  “How many candidates did you interview before choosing Jordan?”

            “Quite a few,” Rick said with a faint smile on his face.  “This will likely take a while, Little Mouse.”

            Stan and Koji shared a smirk.

            “Well, I suppose we’d better get on with it,” Eva muttered.

            Don turned.  “Candidate twenty-three, please,” he told the armory staffer who was conducting the trials.

            They shared a look as a burly guy walked in and sat at the gun turret.

            Seconds later, the thunder of the guns pounded against them; but disappointingly, the fire was mostly missing the rapidly moving targets.

            Eva rolled her eyes.

            “Candidate seventy-seven,” Don said, a hint of exhaustion in his tone, four hours later.

            Eva was leaning against the wall, and for the past hour or so, hadn’t bothered to move from that spot.  A clipboard lay nearly forgotten on the floor beside her.  There were a few candidates who’d managed to chew up almost half of the targets, but for the most part these applicants weren’t averaging above roughly ten percent accuracy.

            Jordan had averaged eighty to ninety percent, practically from the start.  He’d also shot out the wall behind the targets from the ferocity of his fire.

            Rick was a virtual statue, perched on his stool; Stan and Koji were both leaning against the wall near him, talking in a fierce whisper.  From what little carried to Eva, it seemed as though they were still thinking up ways to improve the Star Angel.

            She rubbed her temples, and raised an eyebrow as a trim young woman with waist-length dark hair, bound into a ponytail and stuffed through the back of a plain, black old-style baseball cap, and possessing deep, expressive brown eyes entered the room, looking rather nervous.  She was pretty, physically; but her attire…  She looked rather plain, dressed casually all in blacks and grays… and her clothes were slightly wrinkled, looking as if she had just crammed them in a drawer and left them before putting them on; that, or she’d slept in them.

            Eva sighed and idly watched the latest applicant take a seat, rubbing sweaty palms on her pants before gripping the gun turret handles.  The applicant took a deep breath.

            As the now-familiar thunder of the guns barking echoed around the room, effectively silencing Stan and Koji, Eva groaned to herself.  She wasn’t doing much better…

            But even as she watched, the applicant began to improve dramatically; her nervousness seemed to melt away.

            More and more of the targets began disappearing under the hail of metal being fired from the guns; it was enough to draw looks from Don- who was suddenly interested- and Rick, now leaning forward, also watching in interest.  Stan and Koji had moved forward, eyeing the targets intently, with Koji’s computer upright and recording.

            As the guns fell silent, Eva leapt to her feet.  She stared at the last targets, still hanging where they’d stopped.  “Huh,” she said.

            “Started around ten, maybe fifteen percent accuracy,” commented Rick.

            “Finished around ninety, though,” pointed out Koji.

            “Most of it was above sixty,” added Stan, looking over Koji’s shoulder.  “Averages out to around seventy, maybe seventy-five percent.”

            The applicant’s nervousness had returned; she was quickly glancing from face to face as the conversation continued.

            Don glanced at Eva.  “What do you think?”

            Eva walked over to her.  “Nervous?”

            “A little,” she admitted.

            “Are you usually this jittery?” she continued.

            “Uh… maybe?  I haven’t done much like this; but I have good eyes and hand-eye coordination, and-“ she replied, before Eva cut her off with a wave of her hand.

            “It’s okay,” Eva smiled.  “We can work on that.  By far, you’ve done the best of everyone we’ve seen today.”  Eva glanced back at the men, all of whom slowly nodded.

            “It’s your choice in the end, Eva,” Don said.  “You are the pilot, after all.”

            Eva’s smiled widened, and she held out her hand.  “Welcome to Team Seraphim.  I’m Eva Wei… publicly better known as Molly.”

            Her new gunner’s eyes widened, and she slowly matched Eva’s smile.  “Wow,” she whispered, before extending her hand.  “I’m Hoshiko Akemi.”

            Eva nodded, and proceeded to introduce the others.  Finishing that, she looked at everybody in turn.  “Now we have a team; and we have one week before we depart for Alwas, to get whipped into shape.”

            She paused, and giggled.

TO BE CONTINUED...

 

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