Authors: Matthew Reilly

Hover Car Racer (15 page)

‘Thank you, sir,’ Jason said.

‘Now take a shower and get some rest, both of you. The next round will be here faster than you know and you want to be fresh for it.’

Jason emerged from the showers of his pit bay ten minutes later - just in time to see Ariel over in her pit bay, talking animatedly to Fabian.

Well, in actual fact, only she was talking.

He
was walking away, dismissing her tearful pleas with a curt wave of his hand.

Fabian strode off, leaving Ariel standing there in her pit bay, alone, tears streaming down her face.

Jason knew what was going on. Ariel had gone to Fabian’s room the night before - he didn’t want to think about what happened there - and now she’d lost in the opening round of the tournament, and suddenly Fabian didn’t want to know her.

As he gazed at her now, Jason felt for Ariel. She’d given Fabian something last night, something of herself, and for all the wrong reasons, but Fabian had only been using her -

But then Ariel turned suddenly, and caught Jason staring.

And the two of them stood there, on opposite sides of the pits, just looking at each other.

Jason didn’t break eye contact. Nor was he going to. It was Ariel who turned away and disappeared into her pit bay.

‘I’m sorry, Ariel,’ Jason whispered to no-one. ‘But there are no friends on the track.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

The tournament continued apace, its carnival-like atmosphere pumping. In between races there were pop music acts, while in the VIP marquees, sponsors and Race School officials did deals over flutes of Moet champagne.

Of the six first-round races, Jason and Ariel’s had easily been the longest. The others had been quicker, less-intense affairs, and had variously been won through crashes or mishaps in the pits. None of them had even come close to reaching the 50-lap mark, let alone 100.

And so with the completion of the first round, the tournament draw looked like this:

ROUND 1 QRTR FINALS SEMI-FINALS FINAL

1. XONORA, X

16. [BYE] 1. XONORA, X

10. LUCAS, L 8. WONG, H

8. WONG, H

6. CORTEZ, J

11. PHAROS, A 6. CORTEZ, J

14. MORIALTA, R 4. KRISHNA, V

4. KRISHNA, V

3. WASHINGTON,I 3. WASHINGTON,I

13. TAKESHI, T

12. CHASER, J 12. CHASER, J

5. PIPER, A

7. DIXON, W

9. SCHUMACHER,K 9. SCHUMACHER,K

15. [BYE] 2. BECKER, B

2. BECKER, B

The opening race of the Quarter Final Round saw the first appearance of the top seed, Xavier Xonora, and he showed everyone exactly why he was the favourite to win the tournament.

Up against Jason’s stablemate, Horatio Wong, Xonora was quite simply merciless.

His driving around the figure-8 circuit was faultless. He didn’t take a corner more than an inch off the optimum racing line and within eight laps, he was a full third of a lap ahead of Wong.

Then Wong pitted - a huge tactical mistake, the Bug commented to Jason; you never,
ever
pitted when you were that far behind - and suddenly Xavier was all over him like a rash.

The all-black
Speed Razor
loomed behind Wong’s car like a giant hawk - while Wong swerved defensively, panicking, wrestling with his steering vane.

Xavier made a couple of lazy feints to the left, before he just powered easily by Wong on the final turn of Lap 11, overtaking him on the inside, and the race was over almost before it had begun.

It was the shortest race so far. Some likened it to a chess expert dispatching a novice in five quick moves. Others said it was nothing less than the clinical
execution
of a lesser racer by a master.

It even seized the attention of the assembled sponsors.

Xavier Xonora was good, very good. And he had charged into the semis without even breaking a sweat.

* * *

2ND QUARTER FINAL:
CORTEZ V KRISHNA

A tight and tense race between the gifted but unpredictable Mexican, Joaquin Cortez, and the No.4 seed, a very talented 18-year-old racer from India named Varishna Krishna.

It was ultimately won by Krishna on Lap 74, during the race’s sixth chase phase.

3RD QUARTER FINAL:
SCHUMACHER V BECKER

This was a race, all agreed, that illustrated the cruelty of match-racing.

The German, Schumacher, had led all the way. He had been pitting superbly - consistently clocking astonishing 8-second stops - and rocketing around the track like a bullet.

By the 50-lap mark, he had built a solid half-lap lead on Becker and all the commentators were certain that after his next pit stop, on fresh mags, he’d pounce.

That pit stop, however, saw Schumacher’s pit machine freeze in mid-air.

System crash.

And while Schumacher’s Mech Chief swore and rebooted their pit machine’s central processing unit, Barnaby Becker just whipped around the circuit - alone, on semi-depleted mags - and lapped Schumacher in the easiest possible way, while he was still in the pits, thus taking a race that by all accounts he really didn’t deserve to win.

But then, everyone said, that was match-racing.

There was one more Quarter Final race to be run and the crowd murmured in anticipation.

The public knew that both racers studied under the same teacher at the Race School - which always made for interesting racing.

But everyone at the Race School knew that there was more to it than that: they all knew that Isaiah Washington particularly despised his upstart young stablemate, Jason Chaser.

The stage was set.

The two cars lined up on the grid.

4TH QUARTER FINAL:
WASHINGTON V CHASER

The race between Isaiah Washington and Jason was nothing short of electric.

More than any of the other races in the day so far, there was
feeling
in this one. The crowd sensed the tension in the air as the two cars lined up on the grid and Isaiah Washington glared over at Jason and the Bug.

And then they were off and the race was run at a blistering pace, with multiple lead-changes and daring overtaking manoeuvres from both racers that had the crowd gasping.

After 20 laps, there was nothing in it. They were going stop for stop.

40 laps, and at the Bug’s urging, Jason skipped a stop and tried a quick three-lap chase - but Washington held them off determinedly before embarking on a chase phase of his own, but that also failed.

Then, on Lap 57, a mistake.

In this pressure-cooker environment, it was only a matter of time before someone made a mistake and it was the most unexpected person of all who made it.

Sally McDuff.

It was an uncharacteristically rookie mistake, too - coordinating her pit gear, Sally mixed up her supply of old and new mag drives and in the lead-up to the next pit stop, she accidentally attached a
used
magneto drive to the Tarantula for affixing to the
Argonaut
.

The stop took place and Jason gunned it out of the pits…and immediately knew something was wrong. He didn’t have full power.

It was a costly error.

Because it meant that the
Argonaut
had to pit
again
on the very next lap.

‘Jason! I’m so sorry!’ Sally said as the Tarantula replaced the dud mag. ‘It’s my fault!’

‘Don’t worry about it! Just get us back out there!’ Jason yelled.

The old mag came off and the new one went on and Jason blasted out of the pits - and suddenly found himself only inches in front of the ravenous
Black Bullet
. He was almost a full lap behind now and flying for his life: Washington was on fresh mags, a full tank of coolant and - according to the Bug - his eyes were deadly.

But Jason held on. Drove hard. Concentrated grimly. That first chase phase melded into a second, then a third, then a fourth. In each instance, Jason could only pit
after
Washington did: in his position, to pit first was to concede defeat.

Never give up. Never say die
…

Lap 82 saw Washington pit again - and not a moment too soon for Jason. The
Argonaut
had been almost out of coolant, its mags all but on the point of burning up.

Jason charged into the pits on the next lap for a full coolant refill.

And suddenly his luck changed.

Isaiah Washington was still in the pits when he got there.

Washington’s pit machine had frozen halfway through attaching a new set of mags to his car and Washington’s Mech Chief was now frantically trying to manually pull the machine clear of the
Black Bullet
.

Jason recalled the words of Scott Syracuse from a few days ago: ‘The pits are the X-factor in match-racing, because whenever you stop your car, you run the risk of it not starting up again.’

Which meant that Jason had now reclaimed the lap he had lost earlier - they were now on the same lap.

Jason flung the
Argonaut
into its pit bay - to find that Sally, rattled by her previous error, had misheard the Bug’s radio instructions for a full coolant refill.

She had only prepared a top-up.

‘Oh, Jason! I’m sorry!’

‘Just give me what you’ve got!’ Jason yelled. ‘We gotta go!’

The Tarantula’s coolant hose pumped a small amount of oily green liquid into the
Argonaut
‘s tank and Jason sped off…

…leaving Washington
still
in his pit bay.

The
Argonaut
shoomed around the track at bullet-speed. Alone.

It had made almost one full circuit when the
Black Bullet
blasted out of the pits - in the nick of time - resuming its place on the track just as Jason rounded the final turn.

And abruptly the tables were turned.

Whereas Washington had spent much of this race hammering on Jason’s tail, now - with only 16 laps to go - it was Jason who was almost a lap ahead, and it was his turn to do the hounding.

And despite his own exhaustion, that’s exactly what Jason did.

For the next six laps, he rode the tail of the
Black Bullet
, harrying it, hassling it, creeping alongside it until their nosewings were almost side-by-side.

It was all Isaiah Washington could do to stay in front.

But then the Bug issued a warning.

The
Argonaut
‘s coolant levels were dangerously low which meant that its magneto drive heat-levels were dangerously high.

Sally’s top-up hadn’t been enough. It wasn’t going to get them to the end of the race. They were going to have to pit one more time, something which would sap the lead they’d just gained and make this race a dash to the finish.

The thing was, Jason was wiped, exhausted from all the previous chases - and he knew it. He didn’t think he had the mental energy for another dash to the line.

‘Ahhh!’ he yelled. ‘I just can’t do it!’

And then all of a sudden, at the end of Lap 90, something very unexpected happened.

Just as Jason was about to give up on his chase and peel away into the pits and kiss the race good-bye…

…Isaiah Washington gave up.

Worn out by Jason’s brutal six-lap chase - and completely unaware of Jason’s own coolant problems - Washington pulled into the pits, allowing the
Argonaut
to cruise by him, thus winning the match-race.

The crowd cheered.

Jason was stunned.

The overwhelming fatigue that had gripped him moments ago was suddenly transformed into shock.

He had just won this race.

He had just made it to the semi finals.

The
Argonaut
returned to the pits, its mags practically smoking.

Sally McDuff came running over and hugged both Jason and the Bug in their seats. She apologised profusely, but Jason wouldn’t hear any of it.

‘Sally,’ he said. ‘Forget it. I’ve made far more mistakes out on the track than you have in here, and you’ve always covered for me. Hey. We win as a team and we lose as a team. Don’t even think about it again.’

A few minutes later Isaiah Washington came over to their pit bay, with Scott Syracuse by his side. And to Jason’s surprise, Washington extended his hand. ‘Good race, Chaser,’ he said, shaking Jason’s hand.

‘You, too.’

At which point, Washington glanced at the Tarantula and saw the computer readout of the
Argonaut
‘s mag and coolant levels. They were all deep into the red, bordering on blowout.

Washington’s jaw dropped. ‘Wait a minute. You were redlining on coolant
and
mag levels when I dropped out?’

‘Er, yeah.’

‘But…’ Washington stammered. ‘God, no…you were running on empty.’ But then his gaze became steely, suspicious. ‘How’d you learn to do that?’

Jason shrugged. ‘Mr Syracuse taught us. Yesterday, in class.’

‘And what exactly did he say?’ Washington demanded.

Jason let Syracuse answer that.

‘Never give up,’ their teacher said.

And so by mid-afternoon on Tournament Day, it was time for the semi-finals and the tournament draw looked like this:

ROUND 1 QRTR FINALS SEMI-FINALS FINAL

1. XONORA, X

16. [BYE] 1. XONORA, X

10. LUCAS, L 8. WONG, H