A Need for Speed
THE SOLDIERS DIDN’T let me pack. They didn’t let me see my rooms, or say goodbye to Wiktor, who had proven so loyal and capable this past fortnight.
They marched me straight to the portal hall where I had first stepped foot on this planet.
One ring was active, gently humming with the energy required to tear dimensions asunder and rearrange them in an impossible configuration so I might step from one world to another in an instant.
I could see through the portal to my destination.
The Commonwealth homeworld, though I did not call it home: my home was occupied by Imperial forces, and had been for ten years.
It was dark there, nighttime. The image was distorted by dimensional warping, but I could tell I was to be delivered to an outdoor pavilion. Blurry figures in formal green uniforms stood on the other side, waiting to receive me. I approached the portal with dread.
Then, I heard a low warble, so low most people wouldn’t notice it, but I did. It was a sound Tilly and I had practiced back on Kakoda, for her to let me know she was near without giving away her position.
Without making any sudden movements, I scanned the hall. It was tall, with two rows of gemstone pillars and vaulted ceilings. There were very few places to hide, but Tilly had found one. As we reached the alcove where the Royal Commonwealth portal was situated, I looked up.
Clinging to the ceiling, obscured behind a hanging buttress of smokey quartz, was my hoversteed, clamped upside down like a giant bug, waiting for me.
I smiled. “Clever girl.”
“What was that?” the sergeant-at-arms asked.
Silently, Tilly released her clamp, falling straight towards the ground.
Her aerovanes twitched, and she flipped right-way up.
Then, not two meters from the ground, so close I was certain she would slam into the stone, Tilly’s repulsor plate activated with a whine, suspending her centimeters above the floor.
The soldiers whirled, and Tilly’s rotary thrust coil roared to life.
“So long, chaps,” I said cheerfully as Tilly rushed forwards.
I just had time to fall backwards before she was on top of me, her main docking clamp fastening around my chest. Tilly lifted me off the ground, but instead of curving away from the portal, Tilly’s motor revved like an ancient motorcycle and she screamed straight through the transdimensional egress.
The air went from the sterile cool of an ancient stone building to muggy, organic, hot, and thick as we passed onto the capital. I caught a brief glimpse of royal guards diving aside before Tilly pulled into a climb, sudden and sharper than I had expected.
I grabbed a stirrup, pulling myself awkwardly into the saddle with my bound wrists.
Tilly clamped my legs in place, and I clumsily grabbed the right handlebar, taking control.
We were ascending nearly vertically, climbing above the terraced towers of the Royal Palace, out of infantry lancer range and soon beyond the reach of heavy weapons.
Tilly leveled out, and I could tell her intention.
Fly away into the country, go to ground.
Hide. Raid outlying positions for provisions.
Avoid enemy patrols. Trust no one. Just like old times on Kakoda.
I saw my future then, decades of life as a fugitive, as a criminal.
An eternity alone with Tilly to reflect on my failure as a soldier, as a citizen, and as a lover.
I wondered how long I could take it before I gave myself up for execution, or threw myself from a cliff, or simply lay down to die.
I wondered if I would survive long enough to see enemy troops on the homeworld.
I wondered if they would be Federation or Imperial.
My hands tightened around Tilly’s handlebars.
No. No, I would not do that. I refused to go into that empty future.
If I was to die, I would do it defending what I loved.
I would die trying to save my country, my honor, and my beloved Astrid.
I would die for a purpose, or so I reasoned. At least I would die quickly.
And there was the minuscule chance I might not die. Somewhere, there was a tiny opportunity to live happily ever after, but it wouldn’t come to me unless I tried to get it.
I pulled at the handlebars, but Tilly refused to turn.
“Damn it, Tilly, come on.” My greatsword was mounted across Tilly’s back.
Pulling a few centimeters of zero-dimensional edge bare, I sliced my bonds.
Hands free, I re-sheathed my sword and twisted the handlebars.
Still, Tilly would not turn, keeping the handlebars straight. “Tilly, we have to go back.”
Tilly blatted a negative.
“I can’t hide again, Tilly. I can’t go back to that life. I won’t.”
An ascending chirp indicated a question. I did not need to look at her display to guess what it was.
“There’s no purpose to that life, hiding in the brush. I would have nothing to live for.”
Tilly pinged, and this time, I did have to read her response.
But you would be alive.
Tears touched my eyes. Gently, I patted Tilly’s chassis.
“There’s more to life than living, Tilly.
Could you spend the rest of your existence without anyone to fight?
” Tilly made no sound, but she began to slow.
“That’s what lies ahead if we keep going.
Quiet, hiding. No fighting. No action. No racing.
Nothing, and for a very long time. If we go back, it may be over quick, but I guarantee it will be exciting.
“So which will it be?”
Tilly didn’t answer. She made no sound, but her engine rumbled to a stop, leaving us to drift in the wind. I waited long enough to let her think, then reached forwards and took the handlebars.
Tilly let them turn.
“Atta girl,” I said. “I promise, if we make it through this, I’ll install all those upgrades the Royal Guards made for you.”
To my surprise, Tilly gave a smug whistle, and a diagnostic readout appeared on her display.
My jaw dropped as I looked at her statistics.
Everything was upgraded. Her standard military power cell had been replaced by a quad-RTG offering ten times more power.
Her repulsor plate was A-rated and showed climb speeds double what she could pull last time I’d checked.
As for her thrust coils, I wasn’t entirely certain Tilly didn’t think she was the projectile in a particle accelerator.
Gigantic Mag-44 energy injectors ensured acceleration to top speed in under three seconds.
Her cooling system had been upgraded to match, with twin turbo liquid-metal coolant pumps blowing heat to a supremely efficient radiator.
Before I could worry about flying too fast and smashing into a wall, I noticed the upgraded control systems: quad-jet airbrakes and vectored thrust-assisted steering control.
In my absence, Tilly had become an unparalleled machine.
“Tilly, who installed these?” I asked.
In reply, Tilly showed me a picture of Princess Marie, her sleeves rolled above her elbows, grease smeared on her nose. I smiled.
“Right. Now I know where we’re going.” Tilly chirped a question. “First thing’s first: we have to get back through that portal.”
Tilly aggressively revved her engine, and I frowned, double-checking her diagnostics. “Tilly, don’t you have engine silencers? How can you make that much noise?”
Happily, Tilly displayed a broken wrench icon above the installed silencers. I asked, “But why?”
Tilly revved again, and the sound evoked an impeccably cool individual in leather jacket, riding boots and gloves, and shades. “Oh, all right,” I said. “But you have to earn it.”
Tilly revved once more, confident she could do so. I grinned.
“Let’s see what you can do.”
I squeezed my heels into Tilly’s flanks, driving her forwards, then pulled the handlebars back.
We pulled over in a perfect Immelmann turn, then dove towards the ground, speeding terrifyingly towards the Royal Palace walls.
I knew those walls bristled with heavy weapons and skilled soldiers, but they would not expect us to return so soon, and their sensors would be searching for invasion fleets and stealthy infiltrators, not a half-mad disgraced ex-soldier and his insane combat steed.
I saw the guards before they saw me. I saw the soldier who spotted me, saw her eyes go wide as she processed our reckless charge.
I looped Tilly into a barrel roll over the wall, my head clearing it by centimeters as the wailing alarm went up.
I looked at the Queen’s Tower in the palace’s center, and I fancied I could see Her Majesty peering inquisitively at me.
I snapped off a salute, one last symbol of loyalty and respect, then Tilly dove through the portal.
Tilly reacted faster than I could, skidding sideways to stop our motion with her repulsor plate, then blasting forwards with a roar.
The soldiers who had brought me to the portal dove for safety a second time before Tilly and I were past them and in the corridors.
We twisted and jinked, moving with reckless swiftness, banging into walls and shearing off decorations in blinding flashes as our shields absorbed the blows.
I had to decide – how would we escape the palace?
The front gates were the obvious way, but the alarm was already howling.
The doors would be shut, and it would take a siege lancer to break them down.
The courtyard was out, since it would be swarming with armed Imps.
I didn’t like my chances against that many lancers, which left one choice.
A moment later, Tilly and I blew a half-closed door off its hinges as we blasted into the Great Hall. Boleslaw was still there, as was Prince Aureli.
“Boylan? What the Fall are you doing here?” the prince demanded.
I revved Tilly’s engine, filling the hall with wondrously intimidating echoes. “Saving the Commonwealth, sir!”
Boleslaw followed Tilly’s trajectory and divined our intention. For once, the implacable colonel lost her cool. “You can’t! The windows are shielded,” she squeaked.
“Only from the outside,” I replied, then pressed my feet to Tilly’s sides. We shot forwards, smashing through a full-length plate window in a glittering shower of vaporizing glass, escaping into the free air.