Space Race (Space Race 1) by Nathan Hystad (book recommendations for young adults .TXT) 📕

and I selected the map, finding the ring seven kilometers above us.

With a tap, I brought the thrusters to full power and shot upwards. Despite the ship’s inertia adjusters, my eyes saw white spots, and I modified the angle to compensate. I looped down, shooting through the ring a minute later, crossing the distance in what felt like seconds.

Holland let out a cheer, and we continued through the maze. In the end, we’d passed through fifty rings, and the time was forty-seven minutes. I slowed the craft, heading for the island, when the communication came in.

“Well done, team. I assume you enjoyed that,” Bryson said from his office.

“We did.” I smiled at the people behind me, finding everyone in high spirits. Even R11 seemed engaged during the challenge.

“That’s for the best, because you have to shave off twenty-one minutes,” Bryson said. “Go again.”

I looked at the dash and tried to imagine finishing the trial in almost half the time. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it? Then I guess you may as well give up now, and I’ll find someone willing to do as I ask.” Bryson’s lighthearted voice had vanished, replaced with his CEO baritone.

“We can do it, Arlo,” Holland whispered, and I veered for the start line.

“You know what? You’re right.” I ended the communication, and we began again. At least now we knew what to expect.

____________

“It really is impossible,” Holland said as we headed into town.

I draped an arm over his shoulders and laughed. We’d done well today, and I wasn’t going to let my team see defeat in my eyes. “We finished in under thirty minutes. That’s commendable.”

“We still need to better ourselves by four minutes,” Holland reminded us.

“Whatever. I think we earned a drink,” Jade said, taking my side.

We’d begun the day as four people, and ended it as a damned crew, and that was enough of a win for me. I reasoned that was half the reason Bryson had pushed us so hard. I bet if I confronted him on it, he’d admit there was no real goal; he was trying to see how many attempts we’d make to best it.

The biggest island had the majority of active employees living on it, which meant there were restaurants and places to grab a drink after your shifts were done. My grandfather used to say it was like working the coal mines from hundreds of years ago. The laborers would dig all day and receive a trivial compensation, which could only be applied at the commissary. Life had progressed in the human timeline since then, but nothing had really changed.

The head office was a half kilometer away by the coastline, and we’d already walked by ten huge apartment complexes. They were well-maintained, complete with useable Pods, robots at the doors, and playgrounds with swimming pools.

The sun had set, but the humid air still caused my short-sleeved shirt to cling to my back as we searched for a decent place to have a drink. Everyone but Holland had removed their SeaTech uniforms, opting for more casual attire on the tropical island. Jade had a floral-patterned dress, the hem hitting just above her knees. She looked carefree as she walked, peering around with interest. Luther had a white Navy t-shirt on, his powerful build filling it out.

I’d never been one for wearing sandals before, but was growing used to the comfort. A few days at SeaTech, and I was a changed man. My stomach growled, reminding me it had been hours since we’d eaten breakfast, and we took Holland’s lead as we neared their downtown core.

Everyone knew him, and while most gave him a wide berth, they did so with respect, not fear. He waved at some and greeted a few by their names. He asked after someone’s kid, and the woman beamed that he’d remembered her.

Pods floated above us, and I appreciated the digital tiki torches lining the pathways. “He’s really kept this authentic, hasn’t he?”

“Dad loves the vibe. His father tried to update things, but Dad was adamant about keeping the culture alive. He fought tooth and nail to get him to concede.” Holland pointed to a sign ahead, signaling it was our destination.

“And did your dad win the battle?” Jade asked.

“Grandpa said he needed to raise the rank up three places in a year in order for them to keep the old ways on the islands,” Holland said.

“I can imagine how Bryson would react to being challenged,” Luther said.

“Let me guess. He climbed up five ranks,” I suggested.

“Eight. It was unheard of, for a year,” Holland admitted. “Still is.”

“I have to give him credit. He’s determined.” I slowed as the pathway veered to the left. The atmosphere was busy, full of jovial patrons inside. The sign was red and yellow, with a digital cartoon rotating pig on a spit.

Jade jabbed a thumb toward the bar. “This the place?”

“Sure is.” Holland hopped up the first step, moving with an air of confidence as we entered. A 3D projection of a huge cartoon hog wearing an apron appeared.

“Welcome to The Spitting Hog. Where you get slops and hops for the best price on the farm. Link your PersaTab to learn more.” The cartoon vanished as Luther stepped through it.

It smelled like pork and beer, and it made my salivary glands respond instantly. The space was three-quarters full, and a drone floated over, scanning us before guiding us to an empty table in the rear corner. The walls were open-air, giving a nice evening breeze, and I noticed Holland checking the room, searching for something. Or someone.

“Girl?” I asked abruptly.

He looked mortified. “Just a friend…”

A young woman, probably Holland’s age, appeared through a crowd, holding a tray with empty glasses on it. She spotted Holland, and her smile was as genuine as they come.

“Came to slum it, I see,” the waitress said after discarding the dirty dishes.

“I wanted to show my new friends the finest establishment on the island,” Holland told her.

“Then you’re in the wrong place. But if you