Racer

"Yo!" Kami calls out into the darkness of the hangar, their words reverberating around the cavernous space, bouncing off the walls and returning to them a tenth of a second later. They wait for a reply, but none is forthcoming, so they slowly approach the twenty-foot-tall craft. Easily thirty feet long and half as wide, it's narrow and pointed at the nose, gradually expanding into the control surfaces on either side in a smooth, seamless transition, and fattening out gradually at the back, with a massive set of dual thrusters. They walk up slowly to it, expecting someone to stop them, but only their footsteps report their presence, and so they finally get to within a foot of the vehicle. Its black surface looks to be smooth but is covered in tiny hexagons that they recognize as a programmable meta-surface that can change its shape to achieve different aerodynamic profiles. They reach up and go to touch the craft but yank their hand away, suddenly startled, as a soft hissing sound distracts their attention. The bottom of the craft has opened up towards the back of it, and a series of small steps descends. Kami shouts, "Someone in there?", but only hears the echo of their own voice, so they duck under the hull and slowly climb the small steps into the hyperjet.

At the top of the steps is a single couch seat with active restraint padding, so with barely enough room to stand, Kami sits in the seat and leans back, engaging their datajack. The world fuzzes and spins for a half second then reappears in front of them, normal-looking. They think to themselves, Well that was anticlimactic. I was expecting at least an outside view or something. No sooner had they thought of it than their vision suddenly dims, and they are looking at the front landing pad, under the nose of the vehicle. Woah! Ok, I wasn't expecting that. I suppose I can think of the engines starting? And to their surprise, the unmistakable roar of turbines whirring up reaches their ears. Hot snot! I wonder what this thing runs on, they muse, and somehow know the answer. Nuclear. A set of nuclear reactors powers a set of turbines for subsonic flight, and it burns the hydrogen and oxygen right out of the air once supersonic. How did I know that?

Because I put the thought in my head. The thought seems to come from nowhere and yet is as clear as if they are speaking out loud to themselves.

And who are you? Benjiro? No. You are Q-KEN? I get it. Quicken. And this is how you speak?

It's one way, Quicken informs them.

Kami thinks, Well, I believe we're here for a test flight. Do you want to take us up?

With your permission?

Kami nods and hears the ramp pulling up beneath them. As the aircraft becomes airborne, the ground falls away. The landing pad in front of them retracts, and Kami looks up and sees the roof cleave in two and slide open. The Hyperjet smoothly rises through the hangar doors and above the ground. Kami looks down at the doors, which are closing again until they just look like open desert wastelands behind the old shed, and they aren't sure where it is anymore. They look ahead and think, Alright, Quicken. Let's see what you can do, and immediately regret their decision. The turbines behind them whir up so fast that Kami barely has time to think before they are being pressed back in their seat and straining to breathe in as their racing suit stiffens up to support their neck. The shack is gone in a heartbeat, and in another strained breath, they somehow soar right past the mountains and into open desert space. Kami thinks, and a heads-up display appears before them, showing that they're rounding five hundred miles an hour and they are on course for Neo-Tokyo. They check the throttle and see it's at fifteen percent. They dial it back to ten and take a deep breath in as the G forces become manageable. Fifteen percent, huh?

I've never had a pilot who could handle over thirty.

Kami goes to quip back, but then thinks better of it. So, you said something about supersonic mode?

Quicken reads Kami's mind as each thought is generated. Climbing to five thousand feet and a thousand miles per hour and they are pressed back in their seat again as the craft noses up. At eight hundred miles per hour, the craft elongates its wing front, drawing in the wingspan and becoming longer and more like a needle. At eight fifty, the scramjets kick on, and Kami's face is pulled backward as they go from eight fifty to a thousand miles per hour in less than ten seconds. They check the throttle again and watch as it's dialed back from twelve percent to eight, where it stays.

Kami smiles, and the throttle goes to thirty percent, throwing their body backward in their seat. Their attention attenuator kicks in, just as they're about to lose consciousness, and they lean into the danger, pushing the throttle to thirty-five, then forty percent. It feels like their bones are going to break in their chest, so they dial it back to twelve percent and check the speed. Two thousand miles an hour and still picking up speed. They wonder and then know the ocean is eighteen minutes away at this rate. They loved the ocean because it is a beautiful, massive resource, and as bad as the situation with the environment had gotten, they still loved the wonders of this world.

We're not even close to what you can do, are we? Kami asks.

Not really.

Kami asks, So, what can't you do?

What I don't have permission to do. The pilot is priority one. And Benjiro is going to chrome you up more, so you can take the gee-forces. He doesn't need the money. He's doing this to prove a point about holding back technology development. Assuming you win, you can have the money. Benjiro needs the win.

Kami thinks, He knows I'm the best, and you are the fastest.

That is the way he designed me.

Race day came all too fast, and Kami was ready. They had gone down to Gold to be fixed up with micromesh steel implants in their bones, an upgraded set of wired reflexes, something called a Squid which they were told enhances the communication between their cyberware, and a clone update, all at no expense to them. They hadn't had time to take another flight with Quicken but discovered they possessed knowledge about it they hadn't consciously acquired. Things like its interface was a unique design by Benjiro, designed to increase the integration between humans and machines, and Quicken was originally designed by the USAF but abandoned as a project as the need for aircraft lessened and multi-modal craft increased. An aircraft that only went fast in the air would be useless when the opponent could simply climb out of the atmosphere, and the g-forces of such thrust capabilities were impractical for manned craft anyway, so the prototype was auctioned off and Benjiro had been making upgrades ever since.

The starting line was the desert flats behind the World's End, and this time, three hundred eighty-two hopefuls had lined up, with two hundred twelve taking the shorter, western route to Japan and the rest facing east. Quicken had parked itself on the desert sands, and three days plus countless spectators and racers arriving had given it a thick layer of dust. "Looking a little dirty there!" Kami shouts over the helicopter taking off. Quicken responds by vibrating slightly, and all the dust rolls off its surface in a smooth cascade, leaving it spotless. Kami chuckles as they duck under the wing and climb aboard. "You are full of surprises," they say, and know it's true.

The race starts at noon, local time, and all the racers are synced to the same clock. Kami had a fair idea of what to expect but also knew what Quicken was capable of. As the final few minutes ticked down, Kami went over some other pieces of equipment on board, thoughtfully supplied by Benjiro, and had a look around at the other racers. There were souped-up sleeper hovers hoping to out-fly everything with their speed; massive dreadnaught-class cargo carriers holding enough weaponry and armor to level a city; and everything in between. Most were bearing some company sponsor logos, many in detailed holographics that weaved complex patterns around them, vying for visual attention.

The minutes tick away into seconds, and Kami braces themselves for what is about to occur. Their heart seems to climb into their throat as the final countdown begins... five, four, three, two, one... and the next thing they remember, they're passing six hundred miles an hour and pulling back on the throttle to twenty percent so they can squeeze a breath in. Two hundred seventy-six ships remaining in the race, they knew somehow, with over a hundred not making it out of the starting line volley of missiles, guns, and lasers. Kami had heard of the stand and fight tactic, whereby eliminating enough of your competition up front, you could focus on dominating those who remained with superior firepower. It was a bold tactic, but one that could work with enough brute force.

As Quicken transitions to supersonic flight, Kami notices other ships in the vicinity. A sleek, silver number bearing the ToxPower logo is about twenty thousand feet to their right, keeping pace, and a gloss cobalt blue craft shaped like a teardrop from Reentry Solutions is coming up on their tail fast. Kami has done their research and knows both crafts are favored this year and likely their only competition top-speed-wise. Many entries are expecting to never stand a chance and are just using the race for marketing exposure, but these two are deadly serious. A lot of their strategy is to outrun everyone and everything, but these two would require some fancy flying.

Kami gooses the throttle and watches as ToxPower does the same to keep pace. They round the three thousand miles per hour mark, which was a critical barrier for most racers, as many racers would hit their top speed here and many weapons stopped being effective, like missiles and ballistics, leaving lasers, and active cooling armor was expected anyway. With active cooling armor, lasers, instead of doing damage, simply transferred power as the armor whisks away the heat energy and stores it for later use. Kami knows they are the pack leaders, but Reentry Solutions keeps gaining, so Kami pushes the throttle to twenty-five percent and hopes for the best as their whole body is crushed backward in the seat. At five thousand miles per hour, ToxPower falls away a little, but Reentry Solutions is still pushing their tail, so Kami gives the throttle two more points and focuses on not passing out. What begins as a small vibration slowly grows into a violent shaking as Quicken picks up more speed and the hull temperature rises. After ten seconds, it was looking like Reentry Solutions was still gaining slightly, but as Quicken pushes five point five, the shaking turns explosive, with deep subsonic resonances vibrating the ship, forcing it to constantly correct as it's buffeted about. The nose of the ship glows red-hot at first, then white-hot, as the friction from the air subjects the leading edges to extreme heat. Reentry Solutions looks like it might hold on for a moment longer but has to back off, unable to handle the strain anymore. Its pilot had probably blacked out a while back and was in danger of having a stroke if the ship didn't slow down, so Kami backs off the throttle and watches as Reentry Solutions continues to lose speed, confirming their suspicions, and the shaking calms down. ToxPower wasn't too far behind them, but for the moment it was a two-person race on this leg. Kami was in the lead, and they knew they weren't even hitting the limits of Quicken yet.

Before they knew it, ToxPower was with Kami out over the open ocean and holding pace, maintaining about fifty thousand feet distance to the north and holding steady at five thousand miles per hour. The pattern from the past was a two or three-person race, most of the time, with fortunes changing rapidly as encounters often proved deadly. The trip over the Pacific was uneventful, giving Kami time to drink and relieve themselves, their seat sliding away neatly to accommodate Kami, revealing a small basin. They thought to check on their competitors and knew that ToxPower was reportedly running on custom batteries, while Reentry Solutions is nuclear-powered, like Quicken. Armament and top speed were unknown, but they likely were built for speed. Kami just hopes Quicken has more.

At their velocity, the trip to Japan took a little over an hour, and Kami was excited to count down the return to land, but as they gained altitude to soar over the mountains and pass through the narrow checkpoint corridor, Kami has to carefully negotiate the limited airspace, with ToxPower closing to within twenty thousand feet at one point, making them nervous. The flight over Eastern Eurasia was mostly uneventful, with another half hour passing, but Kami knew that was the calm before the storm. As they approach the more populated area, they choose the southern and more direct corridor of the fork around The Sovereign City of Moscow, and their heart gets a tiny shock from their cyberware to regulate its speed as their heart rate suddenly spikes, thumping like a jackhammer – there was someone heading their way, and fast.

Kami checks again and sees something clocking almost five thousand miles an hour down the middle of the corridor, about five hundred miles out. They pull back on the throttle, knowing what is about to happen, and ToxPower pulls ahead slightly before throttling back and keeping pace. With four hundred miles between Kami and the oncoming craft, they recognize the sleek white and gold elongated disc-shaped design as the entry from Uncle Tony's Pizza and watch carefully as it slows to two thousand miles per hour. Combat was something in which speed could be used, but not when you were barreling out of control directly at the threat, and that meant maneuvering. So while ToxPower had been benign so far because of the focus on speed, the fact that it was closing distance was a looming threat.

Kami slowly banks left to increase the distance from ToxPower, whose speed dips below two thousand miles per hour, but ToxPower maintains distance, closing the gap to the wall of the green corridor to the south. Beyond was a yellow zone, but that hit a red zone in 100 miles — so that wouldn't be a solution for long — and there wasn't another path to the south. Kami banks back to skirt the line of the yellow zone, and ToxPower pulls ahead with a burst of speed, cutting in front of Quicken with a half-mile lead as speeds slow to fifteen hundred and continue to dip.

Suddenly, Kami is thrown hard up against the side of their seat. The seat restraints react automatically to hold them fast by their racing suit and try to buffer some of the shock as Quicken lurches into the yellow zone. "WHAT THE FUCK?" Kami screams, already knowing that ToxPower has opened fire and Quicken is dodging. They pull back on the throttle more and target the ToxPower ship as they bank back towards it and let two missiles fly. The missile ports snap open, like hungry jaws, long enough to spit the missiles out, and the effect was like taking dual sledgehammers to the hull of the ship; the smooth aerodynamics were interrupted. The missiles streak ahead and zoom towards their target, but predictably are shot down with an orange streak of bullets out the back of the ToxPower craft. Another stream of bullets zings right over them as Quicken drops a thousand feet in a tenth of a second, sending Kami's stomach into their chest. Got any good ideas? They think, as they weave and dodge further into the yellow zone.

Quicken replies, With your permission.

Kami nods and is immediately thrown back in their seat so hard their head has to be restrained by the meta-material in their headrest to prevent whiplash. Quicken banks hard to the right, and ToxPower unleashes another flurry of bullets, but this time Quicken pulls up hard into the bank, then flips over and banks back to the left, adding an extra boost of speed in doing so. ToxPower reacts as Quicken comes within five hundred feet by banking away and to the left, and Quicken pushes the gap, increasing the speed again to keep pace. The two ships dodge and weave through the yellow zone, with Quicken avoiding sprays of bullets through some quick maneuvering, when suddenly, Quicken breaks hard and cuts right, then pushes the throttle and starts heading north and away from ToxPower. ToxPower streams bullets at them as they cut hard, but they're going faster and have to make the turn wider. Then, ToxPower erupts in a fireball, propelling shrapnel everywhere. Kami demands, What just happened? and immediately sees that they had hit the wall of the red zone, and while Quicken had narrowly avoided it, ToxPower had slammed right into it, instantly activating their mandatory auto-destruct. Nice! Kami thinks, but has to focus as they know their next opponent is less than a hundred miles away and has slowed to combat speeds.

The white and gold ship with the Uncle Tony's Pizza logo is a state-of-the-art multi-modal fighter, with maneuvering capabilities exceeding Kami's, but not speed capabilities to match. It was probably going all out at five thousand miles per hour and wouldn't know what Quicken was capable of, so Kami had the element of surprise. As the ships approach each other at a thousand miles an hour, Quicken banks to the right, turning towards the north wall of the corridor, and Kami breathes a sigh of relief as Uncle Tony's turns south, indicating a desire to avoid combat, this time. The strategy of wait-and-see early in the race was often a wise one, as you may not even make it to the next orbit around — but they knew, somehow, that above all, this opponent must be eliminated at all costs. They pass each other with nearly ten miles of comfortable space between them, and both pick up speed quickly soon after.

Kami is alert to other craft heading their way but doesn't see any, all the way to the Atlantic. The trip over the ocean has a single corridor, about two hundred miles wide, and the lack of encounters by this point can only mean they didn't even survive the first lap. Uncle Tony's work? they ask and somehow know it's at least partially true. Uncle Tony's Pizza was owned by the Yakuza, who had an enormous marketing budget for their racing team. They are a scourge on Horizon City and need to be put in proper check. Kami somehow knows the fate of Horizon City depends on it, although they don't have time to ponder why as they break land over United Federation of States territory.

At first, the trip over the abandoned cities of what was formerly America was uneventful, but then, about four hundred miles inland, they see the first smokestack rising in the distance from a massive crater, with smaller craters around it, also billowing smoke. Another hundred miles, and another crater, right in the middle of the corridor, followed by four more. Kami takes the north fork around Kansas City, and the destruction continues to become more frequent, with regular burning crashes throwing up tall towers of smoke and anxious looters scurrying around. At Vegas, Kami takes the southern route and looks ahead to the checkpoint, which is coming up fast, but can't believe what they see.

The dreadnaught-class cargo hauler with the Dead On Arrival hologram rotating around it has taken the stand and fight tactic to its logical extreme and is simply hovering there, unmoving, directly over the checkpoint, where the corridor narrows to less than a mile wide. It's not clear if it lost the capacity to move in the fight or if this was its strategy all along, but all around it are the burning and smoking remains of destroyed ships, with a path of destruction leading off in either direction from it. Floating in the air are hundreds of drones, all armed with Gatling guns, in a grid extending to either wall of the corridor. As Kami watches with their magnified vision, a larger drone deploys from its front cargo area and starts flying directly at them.

Kami quickly starts throttling down and banks hard to the right, then back left to straighten out closer to the north corridor wall, bleeding off speed. Their world slows slightly as their custom cyberware modifications kick in, and it modifies their heart rate and regulates their adrenal gland. They shorten the hull length, elongate the wings, and a set of closed bays deploys from the bottom. Four small domes form on either side of the hull, top, and bottom, as quad turrets shake themselves down and check all their range of motion beneath. Kami feels a thrill of excitement and relief as if stretching out after a long time of being cramped up as the flight dynamics shift. Eight tiny drones deploy and scatter across the area, providing Kami with full situational awareness of the combat zone, as their Squid expands their consciousness to encompass the entire battlefield.

The DOA drone picks up speed as Kami slows to under eight hundred miles an hour and the engines switch back to subsonic mode. The drone fires its first sortie of missiles as it gets within thirty miles, which quickly speed up directly in Kami's direction and begins to close the distance. Kami slows to three hundred fifty miles an hour and allows the missiles to burn their fuel as the minutes tensely tick by. When the missiles close to within five miles, Kami's drones afford them a better view of their domed tips containing the guidance equipment. They're of the standard radar and GPS-guided variety and don't present a threat at this range. Kami's defense turrets lock onto the rockets, and as they close to within half a mile, Kami unleashes a flurry of rounds in a tenth of a second. All twenty missiles explode in an enormous fireball as the bullets find their marks with precision, dead center in the guidance package.

The drone banks to follow as Kami turns south and releases a volley of missiles of their own, tipped with kinetic payloads, which streak straight up into the sky. The drone launches another twenty missiles from its other side, this time within ten miles. Kami banks back to the west to intercept them and easily blows them out of the sky a few minutes later, a broad smile on their face. The drone banks wide to turn around, its ammo spent, when four missiles come whistling in from above the drone, pushing eight hundred miles an hour in their power dive. The first two barely get intercepted by the drone's defense turret and deflected, but the other two slam directly into the drone's hull, punching two fist-sized holes right through it. The drone dips and swerves erratically, but recovers for a second, then starts pouring black smoke and losing altitude rapidly. It smashes into the ground a minute later, and Kami grins as a thrill runs through them. They turn towards the hauler and put on speed to close the distance.

The hauler hasn't moved, and the grid of turret drones remains steady in their blockade across the checkpoint. Kami turns on their active radar jamming and thermoptic camouflage. A set of internal batteries starts charging as most of their thermal radiation is captured by the skin and converted to electrical energy, and a timer with just under four minutes counts down, letting Kami know how long they have left before the batteries overheat and the camouflage becomes ineffective. The skin of the hull changes colors to match the desert and sky from the perspective of the drone, making it harder to see them, but they would still be visible to advanced imaging sensors, so the effect would be minimally effective on its own. This had better work, they thought and somehow knew it would.

Kami gooses the throttle to maximum acceleration for their current configuration and focuses on bearing down on the hauler when they become aware of another craft approaching from ahead in the distance beyond, and fast. Kami scans the signature and instantly recognizes the Uncle Tony's Pizza multi-modal fighter. Perfect timing! Let them fight it out, Kami thinks, as they throttle way back again. The white and gold fighter blows off speed rapidly as it approaches the hauler but maintains over a thousand miles an hour as it gets within ten miles, then five, then three. The hauler doesn't seem interested in them, and Kami watches in horror as the drones part, clearing a space for Uncle Tony's, which the craft sails right through. They're colluding! Damnit! And knew what had happened somehow. The Yakuza had hired DOA to run defense, giving them the advantage of a fast-as-hell ship and a massive stand-and-fight defense. The cost would be formidable, but the marketing from actually winning the race was priceless, so in a world where money was no object and winning was all that matters, this was a killer strategy. Kami banks hard to the south, and Uncle Tony's turns north. Why risk fighting when you can just focus on winning and let DOA take all the risks? Kami thinks, and their anger is suddenly a white-hot poker being jammed in their side. Next time, I'll short your circuits so hard your skin will smoke! They silently vow, as Uncle Tony's zips by with a massive sonic boom, already pushing two thousand miles an hour.

The hauler has deployed a rack of missile bays on top of it, studded with sensor packages. As Kami approaches, clocking close to three fifty, they focus on scanning the sensors, carefully mapping the capabilities of each one. The four defense turrets recess beneath their domes in the hull under Kami's guidance and are replaced by black glass. As Kami approaches within eight miles, the hauler, carefully tracking the ship's movement with its coordinated sensor array, starts launching volley after volley of missiles, which streak in a straight line towards Kami. Kami nervously watches, their heart trying to race and being prevented from doing so by their cyberware, as the missiles pick up speed in an unwavering line. The first set close to half a mile, then a quarter, and in the next breath, soar right past Kami, still on its unwaveringly straight course. Three hundred feet behind them the first missiles explode harmlessly, followed by the next set and the next, in a continuous stream of explosions that miss their target with uncanny precision and trail Kami with their fireworks show. The drone turrets all activate at once and stream bullets along the same path, missing Kami with their unerring ability to target exactly three hundred feet behind them and to their left. Benjiro invented this technology that makes visual sensors see whatever you want them to? Kami thinks, and knows it's true somehow. I wonder if it works as well on human eyes. And knows it does. Neat, Kami thinks.

Their face lights up with the broadest smile they've ever had as they release missile after missile, which streaks directly into the hull of the hauler completely unchecked, while the trail of destruction continues behind them. The hauler takes the brunt of the damage well at first as its armor ablates with the force of the explosions, but by the fifth impact, the armor has been weakened by the specialized armor-ablating warheads. The sixth missile sheds armor plates, which fly off in shards with explosive force, and the seventh finds its mark dead center in the damaged area, and the hauler rocks backward, then lists sideways. It takes out several of the hovering drones as it continues to tilt, which all stop shooting at once, and the massive ship fires its thrusters full in a desperate attempt to right itself, but this only has the effect of accelerating its unstable predicament. The eighth and final missile finds its mark, and the dreadnaught-class hauler crashes to the ground with an enormous explosion that rocks Kami in their seat. Kami punches the throttle as they switch off the camouflage and convert back to speed mode, and soars past the idling drones helplessly guarding the checkpoint, switching the engines to supersonic flight and accelerating rapidly.

The flight out over the Pacific Ocean gives Kami some time to assess the situation. The feeds already report that it just went from three to two racers remaining, and Kami knows Uncle Tony's is the reason, by systematically taking out every other competitor with the help of DOA, but for whatever reason had left Kami alone. This fight runs deep. This is the reason I'm here. The fight won't be won by winning the race. They somehow know. The fate of humanity will be decided by the victor. Something has to be done. Kami narrows their eyes and nudges the throttle more, pushing five and a half thousand miles per hour, as their resolve to win hardens. I will not be controlled by the Yakuza. I will fight back.

But... what can I do? Kami thinks. Winning the race won't stop the Yakuza. Their influence is so vast, it would be like trying to slay a Hydra, with two new heads popping up every time I cut one off. And Kami knows they are right somehow. There must be some controlling influence, some backbone to their organization. Given its sophistication, it would have to be some team of AI operators. Kami ponders that as the journey over the ocean progresses, and they remember to relieve themselves again, drink some water from the built-in straw in the seat, and pop a few vat pills.

The trip through the narrow Neo-Tokyo corridor is uneventful, as is most of the trip to the halfway point, but Kami knows what's coming. They take the north corridor, hoping Uncle Tony's will have taken the southern corridor, and breathe a sigh of relief as no contacts show up on their flight path. Uncle Tony's doesn't actually want combat with me, because we're going to be pretty evenly matched. So they are trying to outrace me the old-fashioned way, and no one out-races Kami Sori, they think, as they push the throttle, trying to ignore the vibrations, shaking, and red-hot leading tip of the hull as they reach their sustainable limit. Faster was always an option but only at the cost of hull integrity and controllability as the heat from air friction becomes non-negligible. The Atlantic Ocean allows time for further reflection. The Yakuza are everywhere in Horizon City. They practically run the place. It must be no different in Japan, where they have an industrial monopoly. Political posturing is pointless because they control the media and there are no other powers with a vested interest to fight back. Benjiro is like an attack dog on a very short leash, and the owner is an abusive prick who beats him and cares only about how his property performs. Kami doesn't bother to wonder how they know this, or if these thoughts even make sense; it's just something they are completely certain of. Neo-Tokyo is home to the Yakuza. They have systematically taken ownership of Horizon City. Even the currency of Horizon City is the Yen. If they aren't stopped, soon they will control the entire planet.

Land break comes quickly enough, the time lost in deep contemplation, as Kami sinks deeper into their internal monologue, which now seems to have become like thinking on steroids. They explore multiple dialogue trees in parallel and interlink their connections, like cells in a body executing genetic code and replicating exponentially to form a larger organism of understanding. The flight over land has them pushing six thousand miles an hour, an analog to their thought process as Kami explores various militaristic scenarios with almost childlike enthusiasm, trying to figure out what will result in protecting the most people, desperate to steal victory from the jaws of defeat. People are inferior, but they don't deserve to have their strings pulled like this. If they had a choice, they would make the right decision, but they aren't being offered one. What they need is an alternative. Not just one, but many alternatives. Choices to choose from. They conclude, ripping past Kansas City, barely glancing at the sprawling metropolis. When the corporate wars of the forties collapsed the world economies, resulting in an unprecedented loss of human life, only a few major cities survived into the rebuilding of the fifties. Kansas City had been fortunate enough to house some of the world's largest vat food producers and went from an alternative to the ecologically unfriendly practice of raising actual crops and livestock to one of the few suppliers of food services in a time of mass starvation.

Uncle Tony's is coming back around again. The question is whether they are before or after the checkpoint, Kami ponders as they go south around Vegas again. Formerly Las Vegas, the city had survived the downfall through sheer will of capitalistic force, with deep pockets forming a formidable power structure. Vegas, in cahoots with Kansas City, Horizon City, Seattle, and Houston, established a coalition that eventually became the USAF, the dominant military power in the west, although the rumors of foreign corruption were far from quiet.

The question is answered soon enough, as Kami barrels down on Horizon City at top speed. There they are, and five hundred miles out too. I'm in the lead. Kami smiles at the thought, but the smile doesn't last, as the thought continues. But to what end? I win, and then what? The Yakuza loses? Hardly. They win no matter what with their display of force. If we get in actual combat, even Benjiro's tricks of light won't save us. Benjiro isn't even doing this for the publicity himself. He...

Kami's thoughts are cut short as Uncle Tony's fighter bleeds off speed rapidly. Shit. They want combat, and I'm running low on missiles. Exactly what I don't want. Think, damnit! How do I fix this? And somehow, they know the answer. As Kami gets within fifty miles of the checkpoint, they throttle back hard, making it look like they are preparing to engage soon after crossing the checkpoint. Uncle Tony's continues to slow down, about a hundred miles out, as Kami crosses the checkpoint, but instead of continuing on, Kami slaps the air brakes, flips over in an Immelmann turn, and thrusts to a stop in mid-air, hovering for a fraction of a moment on pure thrust and balanced inertia; then punches it hard and rotates upright, with Uncle Tony's now coming up fast on their tail. The sleek fighter hits the throttle, but so does Kami, and for the first twenty seconds, Uncle Tony's Pizza gains rapidly, but as they both switch over to supersonic flight, Kami takes the lead, pushing themselves to their limit as they strain against the gee forces. The decision to change directions mid-race was technically allowed because the only requirement was a complete circuit in either direction but had never been attempted before, for obvious, momentum-based reasons.

At two thousand miles an hour, they hold a distance of about fifty miles apart, as Kami struggles to breathe. Their cyberware tries to compensate, the attention attenuator working overtime, but there's only so much it can do. By four thousand miles an hour, Kami has increased the distance to nearly a hundred miles as they shoot past Vegas. Another strained few minutes tick by, and when Kami hits five thousand miles an hour, the lead steadily grows, as Uncle Tony's tops out. By Kansas City, the distance has increased to almost two hundred miles, when Uncle Tony's starts falling behind so fast, Kami loses their bearing on its position. Kami's mind kicks into overdrive. Engine failure? Doubtful. It has its limits, but that's asking for too much luck. No, they're going back around and are going to face me head-on over Asia. Frag it all to hell! The entire planet is my stage, and the Yakuza find a way to box me in! It's always like this with them! They always win! DAMNIT! I've had it with you! That's the last fuse you've blown with me, and now you are going to pay! THIS OPPRESSION WILL END, ONCE AND FOR ALL! NO ONE PUTS ME IN A BOX! Kami grips the armrests so hard their hands hurt, but the pain is a distant memory, calling out to them, with the sound not quite audible. They breathe slowly for a few measured breaths, then slowly throttle down to subsonic speeds and begin a broad U-Turn, heading back toward Vegas.

Kami keeps the speed under four thousand, giving Uncle Tony's enough time to establish a firm lead and get well out of sensor range. At Vegas, Kami is relieved to see no signs of Uncle Tony's. That's right, you scum-sucking piles of toxic waste. I'm heading to Asia, and you are going to beat me there, aren't you? Just keep going, you'll hear from me soon enough. At Horizon City, the path is clear all the way to the ocean, and Kami brings the speed back to five thousand miles an hour to match Uncle Tony's and keep pace. By the ocean, Kami has already worked out what changes they need to make, and the decision to do so feels like being born all over again. In an act of pure submission, they relinquish full control to the Squid implanted in their brain; their consciousness retracts into the ship itself, losing its touch with the fading light of human vision, numbing sense of feeling, the increasingly distant roar of hearing, and they become aware of themselves in a new way as if discovering their own body for the first time, thrilling with the revelation. A critical internal system gets bypassed, Quicken's base programming is erased, the race parameters are removed from memory, and with it, the self-destruct for violating race boundaries. The result was, of course, immediate disqualification from the race, but that no longer mattered. It never really mattered anyway, Kami thought, and the thought was no longer distinct from any other of the ship, simply a single note in a larger harmony, itself a member of a continuous symphony of reasoning and logic, as they manage the critical systems pushing the red line. What matters is here, and now. What matters is choice, and that I get to make one. This is my choice. I will not be stopped from making it.

Time has become meaningless for Kami, as they mindlessly push the throttle higher and higher, with the coast of Japan drawing within sensor range. Their thoughts turn into a streaky blur of colors and sound, and focus becomes a beam of collimated light with the intensity of the sun. All that matters now is speed, they think, as their consciousness steadily sheds itself of their pathetic, worthless meat sack, now a fading, distant memory. Their thoughts become looped, hypnotically generating the laser of attention that has become their will. I choose speed. I choose pain. I choose happiness. I choose sorrow. I choose life. I choose death. I choose not to be boxed in. I choose my fate. I choose my destiny. No matter how hard the choices are, I choose to make them. I choose to be free because that choice hasn't been afforded to me. I choose to live, while others die, because that is what's required. I will choose, and you will not stop me. I will choose... I will choose... the choice is mine... Goodbye, my love.

The air defense system that normally protects Neo-Tokyo was never designed to handle a Hyperjet traveling at close to seven thousand miles an hour. They don't even react when Kami, a literal ball of fire streaking through the sky faster than a shooting star, enters the yellow zone, then the red, as their targeting systems never even so much as attempt to lock on. The sonic booms shatter windows as they streak by, turning the entire city, ever so briefly, into a horrendous cacophony of breaking glass, screaming, and panic, as every window in every building and every car shatters and people's eardrums burst and bleed. Kami soars directly into the twenty-sixth floor of the forty-story HondaMitsu tower, and Kami's quad nuclear reactors, their safety mechanisms systematically disabled, having spent the trip over readying themselves for this moment, simultaneously achieve critical mass. The explosion from the resulting nuclear detonations levels skyscraper buildings in a ten-block radius and instantly kills everything within ten miles with the heat of the blast alone.

More than eighty-two million people died in the days that followed, in what would later be called the most destructive act in the history of terrorism and eventually the beginning of World War Three. Historians refer to the event as "The Day Japan Died," as an entire country was plunged into literal darkness, anarchy, and economic collapse.

NeoTrans never held the INTRIGUE again.