Catalyst

fiction by michael werneburg

"Well, if his performance in last year's race was any indication, he'll do what it takes. Perhaps he'll secure another racer's camera. As we saw in the final moments of that race, he collected the camera that a competitor lost during a tumble. It turned out his camera had failed to capture the third marker in that race, and he needed two cameras to cross the finish line!"

I frowned. That was bizarre news! I'd been working during last year's race, and had missed the final fifteen minutes of the race when we got a call. I'd been helping the survivors of a fire at a chop shop when that race had been won. I winced as something in my right knee began to twinge with every rotation.

"We're told that a situation is developing with Norris and Goss, the two riders who opted for the stairs. Taking you there now, we find that Norris and Goss, while riding neck-and-neck, have been ambushed. They've been jumped by four men with a mono-filament line stretched across their route, and Warren Goss has been knocked off his bike. The bike's destroyed, but he seems okay, wouldn't you say, Dan?"

"For sure. The suits these riders are wearing have enormous capacity for absorbing energy. He might not have felt much at all from that blow. As with the huge pile-up we saw at the beginning of the race, it's not the riders that are injured in these spills; it's the bikes. The bikes are strong and supremely light, but can't take certain stresses at all."

"Indeed. Well, with Norris it's a different case. He seems to have spotted the trap before he and Goss hit it, and slammed on his brakes. I don't know if it's the hybrid nature of the bike, but both rider and bike are intact. He's getting to his feet, but already the men who set the trap are closing in. Now Goss is on his feet. And Norris is off! He's running off on foot, and he's really moving. Dan, I think he took one look at the situation, and decided that he didn't want the aggravation."

"That's right, Jim, but it seems that Warren Goss does want the aggravation. Though the men that ambushed them are clearly armed, Goss is advancing. Now he's got his baton out, and if I'm not mistaken, he's armed the stun bolt!"

"Yes," said Tsemensis, "but the ambushers are circling, looks like they haven't been warned off. They're circling, now one of them closes—he's down! The first assailant is down, do we have another camera angle? No? Now the rest move in. Yes, another is falling, clutching his knee. Goss is swinging that thing like he's swatting at flies! And just like that, it's over. All four attackers are down. Warren Goss has defeated four men in close-quarters combat; Incredible!"

"Now he's moving to Norris's bike, pushes it under the mono-filament, and he's back in the race. Warren Goss survives an ambush in the wrong part of Dusylin, and gets right back into the race!"

"It's a remarkable effort, but I don't see what good it can do. Along with those who took the same route as Tilescu down into the Old Town, and who have since split to cross the city by a number of routes, there's just no way that Goss can catch Tilescu."

Shivering at the thought of Goss catching me, I stood on my pedals and checked out the terrain ahead. I could see the Prince's palace, now, and was moving at top speed. I'd have a final stretch on flat terrain after this, and was so glad for it. Even at only four kilometers, I thought it was maybe more than I could do! The light changed ahead of me, and I zipped into the intersection beside some motor vehicles that were just starting up. I crossed the wide street, and headed up the ramp onto the drive before the palace. The drive described a big 'U', and at its far end was the third marker. I let the bike slow, drew out the camera, and cruised by taking photos.

There was a small crowd present, but they were well back of the marker. Clearly, the city's security detail had called up all hands after the debacles at the first and second markers. They weren't going to let things get out of hand in front of the Prince's palace! Even so, the crowd was making a hell of a racket. They waved and shouted and took my photo.

"There's Tilescu, cruising past the third market with style in front of an adoring crowd."

"He's been incredibly lucky so far, Jim. But hauling that antique bicycle around must be reducing his legs to jelly."

"Quite so. It's amazing he's still going, it's possible that he's not as out of shape as his lack of athletic conditioning would suggest. Now, our camera crews have reported that Warren Goss has somehow eluded them. They've combed the possible routes between his last known location and the third marker, and he has just disappeared. Aside from that, things continue look good for the leader, wouldn't you say, Dan?"

"They do, but whatever has kept him going, it might not be enough, Jim. On that final stretch on Garland, he was moving at only eighty-three percent of his average, and that includes some of the slow going in the ascent to the second marker. He's only got two kilometers left, but the pack of riders on the expressway is moving as quickly as the motor vehicles, and they're less than five minutes away. Tilescu has maybe eight to ten minutes to make the last four kilometers, but I don't know that he can do it."