Chapter 2 - Qualifying

The lift lock detatches from my ship and I'm free, floating through the air towards the starting and finishing line on quarter power and G-Diffusers. This race is planetside only, a somewhat pleasant change from the last twelve races I've competed in that have been orbital and in-system races only. The start line's markered by floating red lights. They act as traffic signals, turning blue when we're allowed to go. Only fifty foot off the ground, not the lowest point in the track. The lowest points being a mere five foot off the ground, the highest being seventy thousand. Today is qualifying. We race, but only too see who can get the lowest time. One ship at a time around the course. No traps. Just plain sailing all the way. Hopefully. I came in fifth in the last race, so I'm the fifth one out. I can hear Race Control counting down over my ship's com and the beacons along the edge of the track go green. I open the thrusters and I'm gone, three quarters of the way down the first straight within ten seconds. It's a big course. I need to keep this pace up if I'm to get a decent time.

Through a tight valley, into an open cave and out again, going straight up. Twenty minutes of flying high and I'm forcing my ship into a nose dive, back towards the snow covered plains below. A tight turn, flipping my ship upright and straight and I'm finally on the last leg of the course, weaving between the low buildings of a long dead town, the old abandoned cars sent skittering and rolling in my wake as I pass by low, taking a hair pin too hard, grinding the undercarriage of my ex-fighter along the bleak face of an old shopping centre. An alarm bleeps in a steady rythm. I'm venting fuel through a tear in the primary tank. The gauge is dropping fast, but I keep going, persuading myself that I can see the finishing line in the distance. But I can't. I have a nasty feeling I won't make it. I'm losing too much fuel and the spray is being ignited by my exhaust fire, fattening the thin stream of white flames dangerously. I look down at the fuel levels again. The alarm's still going off and I'm red-lining already. I push my ship harder, the engine sputters and complains, but I can now see the finishing line. My ship gives one last sputter and drops past the line like a brick and I take the fifty foot drop, knowing that I've gained a place in the top ten of tomorrow's race, but unsure of whether I'll be in the race, able to fly. The landing was hard. Dirt and snow and bits of winter greenery went up around me. The ship hissed; The last sound I heard.


My back hurts. My head hurts. I think I have a broken wing. I can smell fuel. But that's the least of my worries. I sit up straight on the khaki coloured cot in the cubby hole that's at the back of my hangar. My head spins and nausea strikes, threatening my breakfast. Rocket fuel isn't the nicest smell in existence. I look up at Ann who's standing over me with a bucket. Always thinking ahead that girl. Makes me wonder why I haven't given our relationship a proper go.
''Y'gonna be sick or what?''
''I think I'll take the 'Or what?' option.'' I said queasily.
Man, I hate the smell of rocket fuel. It's disgusting. Alas, it's one of the only fuels strong enough to get the engines working on a space ship. And my ship being practically ancient now, still drinks the old school cocktail. No shiny power cells for me thanks. Can't afford it. Well, not yet anyway...
Ann Hmpfed and dropped the bucket down.
''You're ship's being fixed. Then being refueled. Depending on how you feel tomorrow, you'll be in at second on the starting line.'' She said.
Second out of thirty five. Not bad. Not bad at all. Certainly a damnsight better than my previous qualifying times of this season.

I swing my legs over the side of the cot and flex my wings, stretching all the muscles I can in my back. A few pops and clicks and everything's back in place where it should be. I live to fly another day.
''Oh. I should warn you. I've heard that one of Quicksilver's accomplices is in the race. I think he's at fourth.''
That has my full attention.
''Know who he is?''
''I think he's that Onnotian from yesterday...'' She replied uncertainly.
''shoot.''
That she agrees with.
''What position you and Lucas in?''
''I'm in third and Lucas' in sixth.''
That puts the cocky fracker between us all. Easy targets. Not something I wanna be coping with right at the moment, but something I have no choice in.

It's typical of Diamond. If he's been disqualified, he'll find another way in, generally through other people or his alter-ego Ju'ahn Lextra, who's presumed dead after last year's major pile up on the Soo'daht race-way. That was hell. I dunno what happened exactly, but the last thing I know, I'm being pried from my ex-fighter by a couple of emergency teams. And I was caught up in the tail end of the smack, the more pleasant area. Quicksilver was in the thick of it. Or Ju'ahn, should I say. His body was never recovered. But I know he's still alive. The beginning of the year, he'd turned up, ready to cause trouble. But that's something else entirely. Ann looked at me, her hand on mine as she sat next to me.
''You alright?''
I breathed deeply and exhaled slowly, like I'd been doing for the past couple of minutes.
''Just tryin' to keep my breakfast down.''
''Get up and get your coat on.'' She ordered, standing up.
I looked up at her, looming over me, my coat now firmly in her grip. I did as I was told and I slid it on, fidgeting with presicion to get my wings out the back of it as I walked with her across the hangar. Lucas was under my ship, welder in paw. Torn pieces of black metal lay off to one side and the part he was working on was a shiny silver. I'd have to spray it once he'd finished with it, otherwise it wouldn't look right.

I stood outside the hangar on the pit lane walkway, looking past the curled in lift lock at my feet that was built into the side of the pit lane floor and down, into the valley fifty foot below. The snow had stopped, was going hard, turning to ice as the temperature continued to drop. My feet were freezing, but I wasn't paying much attention to that as I inhaled the cold air, letting it chase away the remainder of the rocket fuel smell that burnt my nostrils and wind pipe and lungs. If I were to sneeze now, I'd probably ignite myself. One of the curses of being a Dragon who hangs around highly flammable substances twenty-four-seven. Ann was stood next to me, her arms wrapped around my left arm, huddling close to me, trying to keep warm.
''Oh m-man I hope it c-clears up t-tomorrow.'' She shivered and moved closer.
''At this rate, I don't think it will.'' I said running a foot over a patch of ice on the metallic surface that held us and everything else around us up.
From the corner of my eye, I could see the Onnotian looking at us from his hangar door. I don't know what he has in mind, but I could guess that it's something I won't appreciate very much.

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