Montreal Rush

Posted on Sun May 25th, 2014 @ 8:42pm by Lieutenant Commander Ciaran McIntyre & Captain Tim Williams

Episode: Orphans
Location: USS Highlander - Holodeck 1

It rarely rained on Starships - which was an odd statement to make in and of itself - but today, at least on one section of the ship, it was pouring.

Tim stood in the holodeck, his uniform replaced by clothing of the period he was in, bearing team logos and sponsors. Under the raincoat that was literally dripping as the rain water flowed off it, he wore a team t-shirt and cap, the brim of which was also soaking, but helping to keep the water out of his eyes. He had also donned a pair of plain black gloves - not quite of the period of his environment, but designed to stop his hands from being soaked and becoming cold and clammy. Around his neck he wore a pair of large binoculars; a relatively primitive form of vision enhancement which was also worn by many of those around him - and there were many of them.

He was standing in amongst a crowd of fans at turn three of the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve in Montreal, Canada, and the rain was coming down heavy before the start of the Formula One race held at the circuit three hundred and eighty years ago, in 2011. The cars of this era were more pureblood to Tim's mind than those of the modern evolution of the sport; though they still relied heavily on aero effects, they still had loud, meaty petrol engines, and they still raced on rubber-tyred wheels rather than hovering over the ground or flying through skyscrapers as the modern vehicles do. He could certainly make the argument that particular cars from previous and forthcoming years were the true purebreds, but this was one of his favourite historical races that he had loaded into the Highlander's holodeck library.

The holodeck arch appeared silently behind the Captain and the noise of the doors opening was drowned out by the roar of the engines undergoing their first lap. To Lieutenant Ciaran McIntyre's eyes, there could have been nothing going on on the circuit, so poor was the visibility.

The Lieutenant had passed by the holodeck on his way to the Lounge but the temptation of the Captain running an open holodeck session was too much for him. He emerged into the rain still dressed in his standard Starfleet uniform, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, revealing the vicious scar which marked his arm like a ravine.

His drenching was immediate- inside a minute of being in the simulation he found his boots caked in mud and his hair dripping with rainwater. Why would anyone choose to spend time in this?

Tim, still oblivious to the fact that he had company, raised his binoculars to his face. His fingers moved subtly on the top of one of the lenses - these binoculars were a set that he had programmed into the database years ago, and allowed him to not only adjust the magnification of his vision, but also cancel out - to varying extents, depending on the setting - the spray of water that often obscured some of his favourite wet races, and even to allow him to see past obstacles in the way, such as other stands or trees. It wasn't a feature he often used, but it provided some excellent views of some of the racing taking place on other parts of the circuit. It also included a driver tagging feature - allowing him to have the position of certain drivers highlighted whenever he was looking in their direction. He had just used that to tag the positions of the race leader, Sebastian Vettel, Lewis Hamilton starting in 5th, Jenson Button starting in 7th and Michael Schumacher starting in 8th.

He lowered his binoculars as the cars turned the next corner, being blocked from view without his visual aids, and turned away from the track for a moment to brush off a puddle of water which had started to pool in the creases of his waterproof hood.

McIntyre was still pushing his way through to the front of the crowd as the race began. The sound of the engines was astonishing and- aside from some kind of sporting event- he had no idea what was going on. He eventually reached the fence and began to move along until he bumped into someone who didn't move with the usual acceptance of the holodeck crowd.

"Oh, sorry." McIntyre apologised on impulse.

Tim saw some of the puddles of water that had collected on his coat splash on to Mac as he knocked into him; not that the other man was likely to notice, with how drenched his uniform already was. Tim immediately reached for a large umbrella being held up by one of the holographic spectators, who released it and then seemed to forget they had ever had it as they proceeded to get soaked. Handing it over to his newcomer, he had to lean in close not so much to be heard over the engines anymore, as they had disappeared to the far end of the track for a few moments, but over the crowd and the rain, which although it had just started to lighten, was still coming down enough to make a noise.

"A bit poorly dressed for the occasion, aren't you Mac?" he yelled.

"I hadn't expected the sudden change in climactic conditions, Captain!" The other man, now dripping with rainwater although sheltered under the umbrella's canopy called back. He motioned toward the tarmac track, unable to make hide nor hair of anything actually on it. "What are you watching?"

"Twenty Eleven Montreal Formula One Grand Prix!" Tim answered, pausing as the 24-car-strong grid made their way around and past them again, led by the safety car with its orange lights flashing as pretty much the only way of telling where it was until it was on top of you.

"One of the best races of this season. The winner fell to the very back of the grid before making their way back up to the front in appalling conditions."

"Well I can see the appalling conditions, that's for sure!" Mac replied, able to lower his voice slightly as the driving rain and growling engines dissipated slightly. "I've always followed the Touring Shuttles more to be honest- I didn't know 'Formula One' was so old."

"Even older," Tim said, as the rain fell closer to a drizzle. The safety car would be in by lap five, if his memory of the event was accurate, which was when the real race would begin. "The first world driver's championship was won in 1950 by Giuseppe Farina. Back then, the cars were essentially a torpedo with wheels on and a man inside. They didn't lose their wheels until the late twenty first century, when the races were restarted after world war three and started using technology pioneered by Zefram Cochrane and the little that the Vulcans shared. The war years are the only years that formula one hasn't run in."

McIntyre nodded, impressed by the Captain's encyclopaedic knowledge. He motioned toward the car which seemed to be slowing the rest down. "What's the thing at the front?"

"The safety car," Tim answered, pausing to make sure the noise level was low enough for his explanation to be heard. "It leads the pack when the conditions are especially dangerous - so extreme weather, debris on the track, or a crashed car which could cause further chaos. Everyone behind it has to match its speed and can't overtake until it returns to the pits when the track is declared safe. It's like the Electronic Marshal the cars have in their software nowadays for the low-altitude races. It should be coming in at the end of this lap."

The two stood for a few more minutes and waited. As Tim raised his binoculars and calibrated them to see through the pit wall to the straight that was the other side of it - and leading on to both the pit lane entrance and the starting straight - he saw the safety car deactivate its warning lights and peel off into the pit lane.

"They're off!" he yelled. The cars almost immediately sped up, and were once again within view of their vantage point - or at least the first car was; followed by a mountain of spray. As the cars came around the 'S' shape of the first three turns, the cars in fourth and fifth - Mark Webber in the Red Bull and Lewis Hamilton in the McLaren - came together. Whilst Hamilton had to take a far wider line and lose a couple of places as he passed close to where the two were standing, Webber was spun around a full 180 degrees, and had to spin his car again in order to carry on racing.

"Jeezo." Mac stated flatly. "How can you make out what's going on, it's a mess down there?!"

"Here." Tim lifted the loop of his binocular strap from around his neck and handed them to Mac, still set to filter out the effects of the holographic spray.

The burly Security man shook some of the water from his hair and placed the binoculars to his eyes. Although they were antiquated to look at, the Captain had made some marked improvements and Mac's fingers soon found the focus and allowed him to make out the racers rounding the corner.

The cars continued round for another couple of laps before Tim directed Mac's attention towards the pit straight. The two McLarens had just come around the final corner, but Hamilton had carried a lot more speed through than his team-mate, and was approaching fast as the two moved closer and closer to the pit wall.

As the two cars seemed destined to careen together, Mac could barely take his eyes off the scene as it unfolded. "Aren't they in the same team?"

"Yeah," Tim nodded, before ordering the computer to materialise a duplicate of his binoculars so that he could see through the spray himself again. "But there's so much water coming off the tyres of the car in front that he can't see his team mate coming up behind him." As the leading car closed the gap that was between it and the pit wall, the one following was too committed to back out of the move, and both cars squirmed as their wheels touched - the car to the rear slammed one of its wheels against the concrete wall, and the tyre had an instant puncture, forcing the driver to slow down as he carried on around the first two corners - his rear left wheel deformed now that the tyre was devoid of air keeping its shape.

"What is it that appeals to you so much about this?" McIntyre asked, the smell of petrol and hot rubber filling his nostrils.

"What doesn't?" Tim answered, keeping his attention on the cars going past even as he spoke. "The competition, the adrenaline, the speed... plus the fact that for their day, these cars were amazing machines - the absolute best engineering the world could muster."

"That's what I always enjoyed about shuttle racing." Mac replied as the spray went flying again as the cars passed their location. "Although the tracks are a fair bit bigger. And orbital."

"Yeah, but where's the risk?" the captain asked emphatically. "If you make a mistake in a shuttle race, you can go on for lightyears, or just beam off, or eject. In classic Formula One, a mistake could send you into the barriers and end your race. In the older races, the drivers faced a real risk of death if they made a mistake." It wasn't exactly that Tim relished watching people literally crash and burn, but the very fact that the danger was there kicked up the adrenalin levels.

"You're a worrying man, Captain Williams." McIntyre interjected with a wry smile. "I'd better get back to the bridge- I'll leave you to it."

"Make sure to dry off before you get there," Tim called out as Mac started to leave "I'd hate to have to tread through a puddle every time I step onto the bridge."

"You got it, Cap'n."