Authors: Matthew Reilly
Moralez emerged from the darkness.
‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t the kindergarten class. Good race today, kiddies. Not good enough, but still a sterling effort.’
‘Thanks…’ Jason tried to go up the stairs, but Barnaby and Xavier blocked him.
Moralez climbed the stairs, eyeing the Bug. ‘You little fellas like those gate races, don’t you. Like the strategy of them. Like the idea of setting your own course.’
‘What do you want with us?’ Jason said.
‘Chaser, Chaser,’ Moralez said. ‘That’s your problem, you know, it’s always about
you
. But this isn’t about you. No. This is about
him
: your little navigator here. I just want to talk with him. Congratulate him on plotting such a great course today. Give him a little prize.’
Moralez cracked his knuckles, stood over the Bug. Then he formed a fist, held it in front of the Bug’s bespectacled face. ‘Here’s your prize, you little four-eyed freak.’
Moralez made to punch the Bug in the face, but Jason rushed forward at the last moment and pushed the Bug out of the way - and in doing so, received the full force of the blow instead.
Jason hit the wall. Hard. Blood spilled from his nose.
‘Hoo-ah! Ouch!’ Moralez sneered. He moved again towards the Bug, who backed up against the wall, cowering, defenceless, utterly terrified -
‘No!’ Jason called, standing up on wobbling legs and again moving in front of the Bug. ‘You don’t
touch
him.’
The Bug hated to be touched, absolutely
hated
it. Hell, he only let two people in the whole world even hug him: Jason and his mother. He didn’t even let his father cuddle him. A full-blown punch from Guido Moralez would probably send him into a catatonic state.
Jason had to do whatever he could to prevent this creep from touching the Bug…even if that meant acting as an alternative punching bag.
‘You wanna pick on someone,’ he said to Moralez, ‘pick on me…
asshole
.’
The bait worked.
‘Asshole?
Asshole!
‘ Moralez sneered. ‘You little punk…’
Whack!
He punched Jason in the gut, the blow sudden and strong. Jason buckled over - winded - but remained standing.
He swallowed.
Raised his head.
Looked Moralez right in the eye. Baited him again.
‘You…hit…
like a girl
,’ he said grimly.
Two more lightning-quick blows from Moralez dropped Jason to his knees.
Moralez moved in.
‘Enough!’ Prince Xavier’s voice echoed from the top of the darkened stairwell.
Moralez rubbed his knuckles as he stepped away from Jason. ‘You forgot what I told you when we arrived here: you never know what kinds of accidents can happen in a place like this. See ya round, Chaser.’
Jason just stared up at the silhouette that was Xavier Xonora. ‘Next time, Xonora,’ he said, ‘take us on where it counts. On the track.’
The shadow made no reply.
Then as quickly as they had appeared, the bigger boys left, melting away into the darkness, and Jason and the Bug were alone in the stairwell.
The Bug rushed to Jason’s side, tears in his eyes, put his arms around his brother.
Jason sat up, touched his nose. ‘Ow.’
The Bug whispered something.
Jason looked at him. ‘That’s okay, little brother. Anytime.’
The next morning, in the Race Briefing Room, there came a big surprise.
Accompanying Race Director Calder onto the stage was none other than the Principal of the Race School, Jean Pierre LeClerq. He took the lectern.
‘Racers,’ he began. ‘I have an announcement to make. Some excellent news has come through. I have just received word from the Professional Racers Association regarding Race School participants in the annual New York Challenger Race.’
A buzz filled the room.
The New York Challenger Race was part of the week-long New York Racing Festival, the high-point of the hover car racing year, held in October. The climax of the Festival was the New York Masters Series: four different kinds of race, held one race per day - a supersprint, a gate race, a multi-car pursuit race and last of all, a long-distance quest race.
A veritable feast of racing, the New York Masters title was the most prestigious hover car racing title in the world and the last of the four Grand Slams.
The New York Challenger Race, however, was traditionally held two days
before
the Masters series. It was an intricate lap race through a street circuit that traversed the avenues and parks of New York City.
Entry was by invitation only and the race normally featured up-and-coming racers from the satellite leagues. Schools like the International Race School were often given a couple of invitations to disperse as they pleased.
Participating in the New York Challenger Race was not just an honour - it was also an incredible opportunity for an unknown racer, since it was a chance to race in front of the pro-racing teams who would be assembled in New York for the Masters.
‘I am pleased to announce,’ LeClerq said, ‘that the Racers Association has allocated the International Race School
four
places in this year’s New York Challenger Race!
‘In keeping with the School’s long-standing tradition in matters such as this, the four invitations to the Challenger Race will be allocated to those racers occupying the top four positions on the Race School Championship Ladder at the end of the school competition in September.’
The buzzing in the room intensified as racers and their teams quickly conferred, calculating their chances of coming in the Top 4.
It was now late May. There was still a long way to go in the School Championships.
Jason, the Bug and Sally formed a huddle. Jason’s face was a little cut and bruised.
Sally whispered: ‘The Top 4? Geez, can we make it?’
‘There’s a lot of racing left in this season,’ Jason said. ‘Just about everyone can still make it. Either way, it certainly gives us something huge to race for.’
At that moment Principal LeClerq cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention again.
‘I also have another announcement to make,’ he said, ‘this one concerning the annual Sponsors’ Event to be held here at the Race School this coming weekend. Two things. First, the format of the Sponsors’ Event.’
The format of the Sponsors’ Event changed every year: some years it was a gate race, others an enduro, sometimes it was even a series of races.
‘This year’s Sponsors’ Event,’ LeClerq said, ‘will take the form of a tournament: a day-long series of knockout one-on-one pursuit races.’
Once again, the room rippled with excitement. Such a format was similar to a professional tennis tournament: as you beat one opponent, you went through to the next round, until by the end of the day, only two racers were left to fight out the final. Every race was do-or-die, which made for very exciting racing.
But then LeClerq went on. ‘My second announcement about the Sponsor’s Event is more administrative. As I am sure you are all aware, the Event has long been scheduled to take place this coming weekend, in front of all of the School’s sponsors and benefactors.
‘Owing to the inclement weather of late and its effects on our courses across the island - mudslides, high seas along the coasts - it has been decided that Races 23 and 24, set for today and Tuesday, will be cancelled. Weather permitting, Race 25 will go ahead as planned on Thursday.’
The announcement made Jason gag. ‘
What!
‘ he whispered in disbelief.
But everyone else in the room, it seemed, had been dazzled by the New York Challenger announcement and appeared unfazed by this.
‘No
way
,’ Sally McDuff said. ‘They just canned two races…’
‘And we haven’t qualified for the Sponsors’ Event yet,’ Jason said.
They looked at each other, not even needing to say it.
If they were going to race in the all-important Sponsors’ Event at the weekend, they had to win Race 25 on Thursday.
Second wouldn’t cut it anymore.
Now they had to
win
.
The next few days went by very quickly.
Luckily, the weather brightened, and while Races 23 and 24 were still cancelled, Race 25 was cleared to go ahead as scheduled on Thursday.
Scott Syracuse continued with lessons, even going so far as to reschedule new classes on the days that had previously been set aside for Races 23 and 24. Most of the other teams had been given those days to rest or work on their cars at their leisure.
It was odd then that on the Tuesday - the original day for Race 24 -
both
Horatio Wong and Isaiah Washington fell mysteriously ill, and so missed Syracuse’s new classes. Tired as they were, Jason, the Bug and Sally still went.
That same day, the format for Race 25 was revealed. Put simply, Race 25 - the halfway race in the School season - was a doozy.
It was an enduro, an eight-hour marathon on the School’s second-longest course, a multi-faceted track that snaked its way around the island of Tasmania, hugging the coastline, occasionally jutting inland. Since each lap would take an astonishing 24 minutes, the race was only 20 laps long. But this course came with two very special features.
The first feature was a worthy imitation of the signature feature of the Italian Run:
a short cut
.
The famous short cut in the Italian Run sliced through the heel of the ‘boot’ that is Italy. As such, the term for successfully exploiting such a short cut is: ‘cutting the heel’.
The Race School’s short cut sliced across the main isthmus of the Port Arthur peninsula at the town of Dunalley, offering the game racer a 30-second jump on the rest of the pack -
if
he or she could figure out the correct route through a short underground maze.
And the second feature:
demagnetising ripple strips
on all the hairpin turns and S-bend sections of the course.
Colloquially known as ‘demon lights’, demagnetising ripple strips are a standard feature on the pro tour and particularly nasty. They flank the curves on a hover car course and look rather like wide runway lights that float in the air.
Put simply, they are a method of enforcing disciplined driving. If you stray off the aerial track and fly
even for a moment
over some demag lights, your magneto drives lose magnetic power at an exponential rate. Thus your car loses traction and control. Dealing with demag lights is simple: don’t run over them.
Since Wong and Washington weren’t around, Jason, the Bug and Sally took the opportunity to talk to Syracuse about tactics for Thursday’s all-important race.
‘What about the short cut?’ Jason asked. ‘Should we try to cut the heel?’
‘No,’ Syracuse said quickly. ‘The short cut is fool’s gold. It looks like a good option, but in truth it’s not an option at all.’
‘What if we’re behind and it’s the only chance we have?’
‘I still wouldn’t go near it,’ Syracuse said. ‘It’s a trap for the unwise, for those who
like
short cuts. Indeed, it’s designed to appeal to their greed. I would only use it if I knew the correct way through it beforehand.’
‘But we
can’t
know that,’ Sally said. ‘The peninsula mine tunnels are strictly out of bounds. We’re not allowed to check them out beforehand.’
Scott Syracuse cocked his head sideways. ‘No, Ms McDuff. That’s not entirely true. There
are
legitimate ways of mastering such mazes, if you have the patience…’
He left the sentence unfinished, looked directly at them.
‘Unless you know the secret of the maze, I would suggest you not use the short cut in Thursday’s race.’
With that they finished early, around 2:30 p.m.
Jason and the Bug returned to their dorm - weary, beat.
Truth be told, at that moment, Jason was feeling as low as he had ever felt at Race School. He felt overtired from too many classes, underappreciated by his teacher, out of his depth with his fellow racers, and out of races to win.
Which was probably why he was caught off-guard when he and the Bug arrived back at their apartment to find a pair of visitors waiting outside their dorm room, large shadows at the end of the hall.
At first Jason froze, fearing another confrontation with Xavier and Barnaby, but then he heard one of the shadows speak:
‘
Where’s
my little Doodlebug!’ a booming woman’s voice echoed down the corridor.
He smiled broadly.
There, standing outside his and the Bug’s dorm room, were their parents.
The Chaser family went out for the afternoon.
They drove out to the ruins of the mighty 18th-century convict prison at the tip of the Port Arthur peninsula, where Martha Chaser unrolled a picnic rug and spread out an array of sandwiches and soft drinks.
And Jason and the Bug spent a wonderful afternoon sitting in the sunshine talking with their parents.
The Bug sat nestled alongside Martha Chaser, looking very content, while Jason told their parents about everything that had happened to them at the International Race School since he and the Bug had last emailed.
He told them about their continuing technical problems, about recent races, about the Black Prince and Barnaby’s backroom thuggery (which Martha didn’t like at all and wanted to inform the authorities about, but to Jason’s relief Henry Chaser stopped her by saying, ‘No, dear, this is a battle for the boys to fight’), and about Scott Syracuse’s relentless class schedule that didn’t seem to be replicated by any of the other teachers at the School.
He also told them about Race 25, the race that he and the Bug had to win if they were to get a start in Saturday’s all-important tournament.
‘First of all, son,’ Henry Chaser said gently, ‘let me just say this about your teacher, Mr Syracuse. Never
ever
worry about having the “hard” teacher. Trust me, the hard teachers are always the best teachers.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the hard teachers
want you to learn
. This Syracuse guy isn’t here to be your best friend, Jason. He isn’t here to have a fun old time. He’s here to
teach
. And it sounds to me like he’s teaching as hard as he damn well can. What about you: are you
learning
as hard as you can?’