A Scuffle for a Wrinkle, pt 4
a science fiction caper
Where were we? So, in part 1, Vonnel proposes to his crew of misfits a heist in which they swipe the most-advanced and sought-after gadget on the planet for a massive payday.
In part 2, they infiltrate the hotel and setup an ambush for the gentlemen carrying the device.
In part 3, they corner their mark, only to find out he doesn’t have the device anymore, much to his own chagrin. Vonnel’s oldest rival, Gracian, has it instead, but he’s missing a vital piece. And the chase begins!
All caught up? Good. Now let’s find our nemesis and the grasking wrinkler.
A Scuffle for a Wrinkle, part IV
Vonnel slipped into the descender, riding its liquid drop to three floors from the ground. He pounded down the stairs for the remainder, since the stairs opened on the side of the building, away from the spotlight.
The lobby was peaceful. A varni couple snuggled on a sofa by the fountain, some kids rode around on gliders similar to the real one folded and strapped to Vonnel’s side, and various humans stood about aimlessly. Sunlight streamed through the two-story windows, illuminating the interior, lending a cheer to the gurgling fountain and overhanging boughs.
Dotted here and there were guards, but not as many as he would have guessed. A couple of them must have belonged to Prime Executive and Hein Brausley. They paid him no heed, not even a second glance. Brausley had not alerted them after all.
Vonnel scooted past the clerks’ desk and through the sliding transparent doorway, trying to keep his racing heart calm as he traversed the courtyard, with its flags waving in the breeze and its leafy trees lording over the landscape. The sun played hide and seek between the branches, assailing Vonnel with brilliant flashes of light, until he reached the stainless steel street.
His sleek hover cart floated forward and halted before him, its door vanishing into its frame. Jestu slid from the captain’s seat into the passenger’s contoured bucket seat, and Vonnel hopped in behind the controls, grabbed the steering mechanism--two triangles conjoined at a point--and roared the vehicle to sudden life. The streets were sparse, very little traffic in the middle of the day. Vonnel revved his lean speeding machine and raced down the wide, silver streets.
The extravagance of this section of the world and its stainless steel avenues never ceased to amaze him. Its practicality alone could not be questioned, for stainless steel, above all other metals, sustained the heat of the hov thrusters. But cost was exorbitant. Some poorer sections utilized aluminum, in mimic of the look and functionality of stainless. But it could never shine so brilliant as stainless. Others simply used stone, or kicked up dust on dirt ways.
Vonnel glanced at Jestu, and a smile raised the right corner of his lips.
“What?” Jestu said.
“Your lips.” Vonnel chuckled. “They’re… bright red.”
“Ahhhh…. I was a woman, you see.” His face darkened with embarrassment, and he wiped his arm across his mouth.
A large luxury hov roared out of the garage to their right, slamming into the back of Vonnel’s hov. They reeled down the street in a tailspin. Vonnel fought to right the hov and zipped away, the other hov biting at his heels. Jestu whooped and hollered, pumping his fists. Adrenaline pumped through their systems like blood.
“Who is that? Hein Brausley?” Jestu shouted.
“No, that’s Gracian.”
“Gracian? What in Enns does he have to do with this?”
“He wants the rest of his prize.”
He whooped again, and waved his little finger at the figure behind them.
The sonorous thunder of the large hov drowned out the strident whir of Vonnel’s smaller vehicle. They raced at maniacal speeds across the metropolis, dodging traffic. Vonnel skipped onto the side of one building to bypass a snarl of hovs, and the big hov behind followed suit, with far less panache. At times it almost caught up, and at those times Vonnel punched in his third thruster and inertia attempted to leave Gracian behind. But the city harnessed the strength of his craft, limiting his speed with curling avenues and roaming pedestrians, and Gracian closed the gap.
Vonnel yanked the hov into a side street, riding the walls of the building to hold momentum, and gained some space as the powerful but cumbersome hov tailing them could not perform the maneuver at the same high speed.
He rounded a sharp bend without slowing down, found a deserted avenue running half a mile and ending in a tee at a building. To the left of the tee was another traffic snarl, but the right appeared free. He glanced at the building, and crooked his neck forward to gauge its height. One of the tallest buildings of the sector, ranging over one mile high. He could not see its top this close, but knew it for what it was.
Just before they reached the intersection, at a speed doubly defying any statute and with the rear of the sky-scraper looming a hundred yards away, Jestu yelled, “Von, you gonna steer that thing, or what?”
When it became obvious he wasn’t, Jestu hollered and pressed himself into the fabric of his seat, every muscle tense. At the last moment, Vonnel jerked the hov to the right and engaged the under-thrusters. The hov spun horizontal to the rising wall, still hurdling toward it at breakneck speed. The side closest to the building lifted off the ground, and momentum slammed them into the wall, hover side first. Windows blew inward from the impact and concrete buckled.
Vonnel spun the hov back around so the nose of the hov pointed skywards and engaged another reverse thruster, so fluidly the hov lost neither momentum nor drive. Both occupants slammed into their seats and experienced Gs that even the advanced cabin of the hov failed to neutralize. The sleek blue hover cart darted up the side of the building, perpendicular to the ground.
Below them, the large, powerful luxury hov lifted off its front at full speed and collided with the crimson steel-faced building bottom first. More windows blew out and a section of the concrete wall broke away. Gracian engaged all its thrusters and roared up the side, part of the wall falling away beneath him.
Together they raced up the side like a mad train, one on the heels of the other, gliding around the few random windows and irregularities of the structure. Vonnel’s hov, smaller and more nimble, excelled at this, but Gracian held his own, the large vehicle handling admirably.
Vonnel's head was on the verge of explosion as the pressure increased. His eyes swelled and his lips sunk. He could sense Jestu beside him, sinking into the cushions like a foam mattress.
The lip of the roof loomed, outlining the infinite blue sky beyond. Vonnel shut down all reverse thrusters and engaged all frontal thrusters, creating counter-force and sudden and very effective braking. When they reached the lip, he shut down the frontal thrusters and flung the hov sideways. It floated in the air for a moment, and landed with a bang onto the roof, skidding quarter way across the roof, rotating gradually. He sprung from the hov while it still moved, and leveled his gun at the horizon just as Gracian broke the plain. His hove spun sideways, moving considerably slower than Vonnel.
He unloaded a barrage of bullets upon its face, peppering it with holes, penetrating into the cabin. Steam burst from the seams, and Gracian ducked beneath the controls. Only the top of his silver head showed, then he vanished. The large hov fell to the roof with a crunching crash, billowing smoke from its orifices.
Vonnel dropped his sights, pursed his lips, and jerked his head in disgust. “Tage!”
Using the ID his visor had appropriated when it jammed the Crancom frequencies, Vonnel contacted Hein Brausley.
“What was the last place you thought of?” His tone was urgent, no-nonsense.
For a moment, no reply came. Vonnel wondered if the ID was authentic. Then, loud and clear in his head came the nasal tone of the Prime Executive of Thinedom, Inc. “Why should I tell you? So you can gain the prize, instead of the worthless dreg who beat you to it?”
“Give it to me, or risk me with a vengeance. I hold a grudge poorly.”
Silence for a moment again. Then, in halting terms, “Ok… but get this… no damage, you hear? I am very powerful in my own right. And I don’t hold grudges, I indulge them. The last place I thought of was my spa, on the right corner of my estate.”
“Which is where? Quickly, man! I have no time!”
“Where are you now?”
“Roof of the Roshgin Scraper.”
“Excellent! You should be able to see it from there. Northwest, maybe ten miles. On the desert border. Only swatch of green for miles. Spa is in the southeast corridor. And, Vonnel, I’m serious. No damage!”
Vonnel cut the transmission as he viewed the city laid out before him. He spotted his destination in the distance, and his visor zoomed in on the location. Most of the estate was blocked by the surrounding structures, but he could see snippets of a lawn surrounding a palatial mansion.
He turned to Jestu as he whipped out his glideboard and snapped it into place. “See that green on the horizon? Meet me there in the hov. I’m taking the short cut.”
Stay tuned for our conclusion next time! See you then, and keep your CranComs open! Signing off…