Space Race (Space Race 1) Read online

  Contents

  Space Race

  Copyright © 2021 Nathan Hystad

  Books By Nathan Hystad

  SeaTech Racer Number 11

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Space Battle (Space Race 2)

  Lost Contact (The Bridge Squence Book 1)

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  Copyright © 2021 Nathan Hystad

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover art: Tom Edwards Design

  Edited by: Christen Hystad

  Edited by: Scarlett R Algee

  Proofed and Formatted by: BZ Hercules

  Books By Nathan Hystad

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  Nathan’s books are also available on Audible!

  Baldwin’s Legacy

  Confrontation

  Unification

  Culmination

  Hierarchy

  Lineage

  Legacy

  The Survivors Series

  The Event

  New Threat

  New World

  The Ancients

  The Theos

  Old Enemy

  New Alliance

  The Gatekeepers

  New Horizon

  The Academy

  Old World

  New Discovery

  Old Secrets

  The Deities

  New Beginning

  New Lies

  The Resistance Series

  Rift

  Revenge

  Return

  The Manuscript

  Lights Over Cloud Lake

  Red Creek

  Return to Red Creek

  Prologue

  Nineteen Years Ago

  My Pod door closed, and I stared through the viewscreen, letting my senses acclimate to the interior. I adjusted the brightness of the cramped cabin and lowered the thrust-to-burn ratio just enough to feel the vibrations in my leather seat change from a dull throb to a consistent buzzing.

  I was always nervous leading up to these events, especially the finals in the Primary Pod Under Eighteen Cup, but the moment I sat in my Pod, everything calmed. The worries and doubts stayed outside, and all I felt was confidence and strength.

  “You’ve been through this before,” I whispered to myself. The other four Pods were lined up over the desert landscape in central Oasis land. I’d been on this track a few times, but never this exact variation. The course designers ensured none of the contestants had any advantages. Regardless of that, I felt like I possessed an edge.

  While the other participants each had a silly talisman—pieces of jewelry or printed photos of loved ones—hidden away in their jumpsuits, I didn’t need one. My grandfather was in my ear, talking me through the race, and that was all the luck I’d ever need.

  “Hawk, are you all set?” Grandpa’s voice was reassuring, a pillar of calm strength in my earpiece.

  “Yes, sir.” No one had won three Cups before, and I was on the verge of making history.

  “Just remember. You’re Hawk Lewis, and none of these kids hold a digital beam to you, okay?”

  I nodded, knowing he couldn’t see me. “I won’t let you down.”

  A slight pause. “You could never disappoint me, son. Now get prepped. We launch in sixty.”

  The moment he said it, the clock began ticking down in my viewscreen.

  “Welcome to the Primary Pod Under Eighteen Cup! Oasis is pleased to have you here, and I wish the contestants luck.” The Oasis CEO was typically a dour man, but today, he was all smiles in the corner of my screen. My mouth went dry, seeing the dozens of filming drones hovering near the first checkpoint. I hated watching the footage afterward, and tried not to think of the millions of people tuning in at this second. “This portion is sponsored by Ice Water from Oasis. For all your ice mining needs, use Ice Water tools. Link your PersaTab to learn more.”

  I cringed at the blatant advertising. That was all these events were to the Primary Corporations: a medium to sell their wares to the other corporations watching. I heard my dad’s voice in the back of my head and smirked to myself. He was rubbing off on me, despite my grandfather’s executive status with the powerful Luna Corp. Heck, I was in a Sage Industries Pod right now, so what could I complain about? Without their backing, I’d be living in squalor like the other kids I’d grown up with.

  I shoved all of that from my mind as the clock lowered to ten, counting down to one. Varn Wallish sped ahead of me as the Race began, and I chuckled. He was in a Sage Pod as well, in an unprecedented feat. Never had two Pods from a single Primary made it to the final race in the Cup before. I wasn’t about to let Varn steal my spotlight.

  “Nice work, Hawk.” My grandfather insisted on calling me that during the races, and I let it urge me on. Fly like a hawk, he always said. Be a bird of prey. Soar with the wind, and hunt the others like you own the skies, because, Arlo, you do.

  The first checkpoint was a glowing green ring, easily spotted about the rusty red landscape below. The ground was rocky, with shale-covered hills and very little vegetation, and I clipped a cactus as I dipped lower, taking a different approach than the others. It was midday, and the sun was slightly behind us, our Pods racing into the east away from the burning orb.

  Varn was slightly ahead as he entered the Ring, and the racers from Lotus, Espace, and Oasis trailed behind me. I knew all of the pilots from my five years of competitive racing, and had yet to lose to any of them. Today wasn’t going to be any different. They would have watched endless footage of my previous Cup victories, but I was going off a varied playbook today.

  I had to keep them on their toes, not using the same strategy in any major races, because it would give me an advantage. Varn stayed high, hoping to use the gentle breeze behind us in this leg, where I kept low, sending dust away with the burn of my thrusters.

  My heartrate sped up as I identified the second Ring, a blue glow from two hundred meters away. From there, I knew we were cutting sharply north, and I used this as I arced away from the others. Espace briefly snagged second position, but when I aimed at the Ring, hitting it from a sharper angle, I punched the throttle, sending her spinning away from the target.

  Varn was in my sights with five Rings remaining, and I rose high as he went low, trying to emulate my earlier strategy. I could imagine him cheering himself on, a premature victory in his mind, but I had bigger plans.

  “You know what to do,” Grandpa ordered into my ear.

  I raised the Pod, spotting two drones
speeding just in front of me, capturing every movement. Varn was still near the ground, a tiny speck amongst the blurring landscape. The next Ring was closing on us, and I was too elevated. I started my descent, timing it just right. Using gravity and my overdrive, my Pod screamed through the racetrack, as deadly as a falling meteor. My seat shook and the straps cut into my shoulders, my vision going dark for a split second.

  “Now!” my grandfather spoke, and I hauled the yoke, straightening up. When I checked the rear camera feed, Varn was directly behind me, his hull being burned by my pulsing thrusters. I sped away, entering the Ring in first, and didn’t look back.

  “We did it, Grandpa!” I smiled ear to ear, but he didn’t respond.

  The rest of the Race was smooth sailing, and I entered the final checkpoint twenty seconds ahead of Varn Wallish. The crowd filled the giant amphitheater, and even though most of them had come to cheer on their local Oasis team, their cries were deafening as I exited the Pod. I pulled my helmet off and lifted my arm as the drones recorded the moment. This sent the audience into a frenzy, and I heard them chanting my name.

  Hawk. Hawk. Hawk.

  I’d managed to secure my third Cup, but this was just the beginning. I was going to ride this fame to the top and become more legendary than any other racer in the history of the sport. I would change my family’s trajectory, and nothing would change that.

  I searched for my grandfather among the other crews, but he wasn’t standing in his booth.

  “You almost killed me!” Varn shoved me, knocking the helmet from my grip. It bounced to the concrete pad as he pushed me again.

  Varn was two years older than me, and I had no doubt he could win a fight. But that wasn’t going to stop me from standing up for myself. I drove him back with my forearm. “You lost fair and square.”

  Two security officials rushed over, separating us, and I ignored the rest of Varn’s complaints as I went in search of Preston Lewis.

  “Have you seen…” I asked Espace’s pit lead, and he pointed to the portable offices set up in the shade beyond the stands.

  The crowning ceremony was due to begin, but I couldn’t accept the trophy without my partner by my side. I pressed through the crowds of people, most of them congratulating me or patting me on the back, and eventually found the doors. My grandpa was inside, speaking with the CEO of Luna Corp, and he met my gaze through the windows. He gave me a single shake of his head, and I waited for him there.

  A minute later, he waved me inside, when his boss had departed.

  “What was that all about? You missed the end of the Race!” I couldn’t believe he hadn’t been there to see me set the record.

  “Arlo…”

  I noticed how he didn’t use my callsign. The look on his face told me the news was bad. Terrible.

  “You know I’ve been talking with Luna about their mission to Proxima, right?” he asked.

  My stomach sank. “No.”

  “They want me to captain her.”

  “You’re retired. Why can’t they send someone else?” I was fighting not to cry at the news.

  “Obelisk is a state-of-the-art craft, and this mission is important to the Board. Believe me, if I thought I could turn it down, I would, but they won’t take no for an answer. I’m sorry.” He stared at me with penetrating gray eyes, his jaw clenched.

  “What about me? Can I come?”

  “Arlo, you’re just a kid.”

  “I can—”

  “You can’t. Stay here. Win more races. Make your mark on this world. It’s what you’re born to do,” he said, but it all fell flat. I couldn’t continue competing without him. I didn’t want to do this alone.

  “This was all a game to you, wasn’t it? Something to distract you while you waited for your big break.” I reached onto my jumpsuit breast, tearing the Sage logo off, and threw it dramatically to the floor. He called after me, but I kept walking.

  Instead of heading back to the promenade, I just left. I heard the fireworks as they announced my name as the winner of the Cup, but I didn’t care. My race partner was leaving, and nothing was ever going to be the same again.

  One

  Now

  Capricious shook violently, breaking my focus from the endless technical files.

  “Status,” I shouted.

  “Ice particles. Recommend reroute to destination.” The woman’s voice made me smile. Oasis had banned the use of speech modifications to their network plug-ins, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stand the monotonous robotic droning for more than a few seconds at a time.

  “What are a couple of ice crystals going to do to my girl?” I asked.

  “The chances of a hull breach are one in nine hundred and seventy-three.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of a hypothetical question?”

  There was a slight pause. “Hypothetical question: The…”

  “Enough. End program.” I loved saying the words, but she never went completely offline.

  Changing my route would mean losing time, and I was already a day behind on my mission. The inspection line at the Belt Station had been backlogged upon arrival, resulting in a flurry of frantic messages from the facility workers. If the miners were to the point of frenzy over my short delay, I bet they’d already communicated my tardiness to Oasis.

  “I hate my job,” I muttered, and when the AI began to log my conversation, I tapped it to silent mode.

  Capricious rattled, and I finally relented, checking for alternate paths. The sensors showed ice particles in all directions, as if something momentous had recently occurred. This was abnormal past the Belt. My maps revealed no objects, asteroids, ice moons, or planetoids in the vicinity, but the debris here suggested otherwise.

  Now I was intrigued. “CP, can you determine the chemical make-up of the particles?” I cranked her volume to normal.

  She spouted off various numbers, percentages of ammonia and methane, and finished with what I was searching for. “Similar matches exist only outside the solar system.”

  My first instinct was to disregard it, as I recalled what had happened the last time I’d attempted to play hero. “Gather samples.” I leaned back in my chair and interlocked my fingers behind my head while the drones escaped their cubbies along Capricious’ hull. Oasis would want me to investigate, regardless of the interruption in returning their workers from Eris.

  “On screen.” I watched as the image of my surroundings appeared on the wide viewer. I struggled to see the distant stars through the dense ice. I slowed Capricious, settling her into a pocket devoid of danger while I waited for the drones to return with their samples.

  I’d been alone for three weeks and couldn’t wait to come home to a paycheck. Oasis wasn’t always prompt at paying, but considering no one else with any substantial jobs was knocking on my door, my loyalty remained with them. Plus, there was that damned binding contract they’d forced me to sign.

  “Samples obtained.”

  “Good. Let’s see about rerouting. Suggestions?”

  I usually performed these calculations myself, but in the spirit of efficiency, I let CP do the math. A few minutes later, I was given two options, and I selected the second. It had a four percent higher chance of hull puncture, but it would save me four hours in the long run.

  I set the course, eager to be working my way out of the mysterious ice field, when the alarm chimed. “Now what, CP?”

  “Incoming transmission.”

  “Who’s sending messages out here?” I tapped the keypad, trying to locate the source. If someone was able to connect within this interference, they had to be nearby. I didn’t like the sounds of that.

  “Unconfirmed.” Suddenly, her old-world southern accent felt mocking, and I wished I hadn’t adjusted the cold robotic voice. “I have located the origin and can set course.”

  “Play the message, CP,” I growled.

  “I am not programmed to interpret the language, but I have relayed the layered text to your screen.”
/>   My heart pounded as the unfamiliar letters scrolled across the main viewer. I hopped to my feet, banging my skull on my lowered dash header. Wires sparked, jolting me momentarily. I needed to fix that, along with a thousand other things. A freighter like this didn’t keep her name by being effective.

  “There’s no record of this in your database?” I asked, finding it difficult to believe.

  “That is correct. Unknown origin.”

  The two words made my skin crawl. “CP, how long until Eris’ atmosphere freezes and collapses?”

  “Thirty-nine hours,” she said.

  “And our ETA to Eris if we take the selected reroute?” I already knew this but wanted to hear it out loud.

  “Thirty-five hours.” I preferred her to round up.

  “Damn.” This was going to be tight. “Set course for transmission origin, and make it snappy. I want to be in and out and heading for Eris within an hour, understood?”

  “That may result in a higher chance of—”

  “I don’t care, CP! Make the adjustments.” I rested my elbows on the keypad, wondering where I’d gone wrong in life to end up alone on a hauler, shouting at a computer program. I faintly recalled the moment and shoved the memory aside.

  Capricious began to lower, bumping into chunks of frozen gas. I clutched the worn arms of my pilot’s chair, running a finger over a fray in the stitching.

  I continued to observe the alien text, because if CP didn’t comprehend it, that was the only alternative. Alien. I’d never been convinced about life outside our system: not because I was close-minded, but because we’d obsessively dispatched ships and drones for a solid century, returning without any evidence to contradict our solitary existence in the universe. That was empirical data, supported by people much smarter than I was, but I held to the assumption we couldn’t possibly be the only ones. Humans didn’t deserve to be so special.

  Thirty tense minutes passed before CP notified me of the object through my screen. I zoomed on it and used the spatial analyzer to determine its size. It was roughly a twentieth of Capricious’ length and far more elegant in its shape. The design was something new to me, and I’d flown a lot of spacecraft since obtaining my commercial license fifteen years ago.