Compete (65 page)

Immediately the classroom fills with nervous mutterings.

“Silence!” the Instructor says. “What this means for you is that you will have to treat each ark-ship in the middle column as an obstacle that you must carefully bypass without causing harm to yourself or the ship, or anyone else in your way. So—the primary test criteria you are getting evaluated on is
not
speed but
accuracy
. You need to go reasonably fast—it is a given. But—what’s more important is for you to go with great care, for yourself and others.”

Mithrat Okoi pauses, looking at us gravely, as though trying to impress the seriousness of it into our heads. “Now, there is a particular danger of collisions in this course. You will be using several vertical levels in order to avoid making collisions with oncoming ships that will be traveling in the opposite direction.”

He calls up a Fleet formation diagram on the smart board behind him.

“When you are in the race channel going in the direction of the Quantum Stream, or
streaming
toward the head of the fleet which is ICS-1, you will use the upper levels, keeping your shuttles
above
the ark-ships. On your return, when you are
ripping
against the Stream you will use lower levels, flying
beneath
the ark-ships. The Quantum Stream Boundary extends a kilometer above and below the formation, so even here you will need to be very careful not to Breach upward or downward.”

In that moment, various Cadets around the room throw meaningful stares at Hugo Moreno who’s sitting a few rows away with his new partner Marc Goldstein—both of them looking overconfident and cocky—and then at me.

Oh, great . . .
I think, remembering the terrifying experience I went through with Hugo the last time.

Meanwhile, Chiyoko throws me a nervous glance also.

“Because of the added difficulty, your Average time for this course is set at 20 minutes,” Instructor Okoi continues. “Use all your acquired flight skills to keep an even, balanced flight. Do not rush beyond your abilities, and be careful. Note that you will once more be evaluated on both your individual shuttle run and the cumulative score of the other Cadet Pilot Pairs who use your specific shuttle—so, be courteous of others.”

Instructor Mithrat Okoi talks for another half hour, giving us various course specifics, and repeats the QS Boundary Breach warnings many times over, with hard glances in the direction of Hugo Moreno and myself.

Yeah, we’re never going to live that down.

At last the session is over and we are excused, until 1:00 PM when we have to do our shuttle hands-on inspections.

After lunch, Chiyoko and I get to the shuttle bay with the others and do our inspections in absolutely harmonious cooperation mode.

At one point as we’re crawling around the ship, checking wall panels, she glances at me and says, “Gwen, do you really think we’ll be okay if we fly tomorrow in the split roles?”

I bite my lip and sigh. “Well,” I say with a tired smile. “I don’t see if we have anything to lose. So, let’s just go for it.”

She nods at me. “Okay. Was just checking. Last minute jitters, I guess.”

“No problem, I get it,” I tell her. “I’m worried too, but I think it’s the best thing we can do for us.”

She allows her slightly frightened fleeting smile to show. “At least if we Breach,” she says, “I know we can come back safely. You did it once, so you can do it again.”

I bite my lip guiltily. Suddenly the burden of responsibility seems almost too heavy. If only she knew at what cost I got back into the Quantum Stream the last time. . . .

“I hope so,” I mutter. “But we’re
not
going to Breach. Instead we’re going to do our best to win this dratted thing.”

T
hat evening I have my voice training session with Kassiopei.

When I enter the CCO, he is just finishing up a call. Once done, he turns to me, blank-faced as always, and then looks away again, seeming to be preoccupied with his display screens.

“Command Pilot,” I say, watching him with the usual elevated heartbeat. “I know you’re considered to be the best Pilot in the Fleet, and it’s your specialty. Is there any advice you can give me for tomorrow’s Race?”

He glances at me. “I can,” he says coldly. “But you will not listen to me, as usual.”

I can’t help it.
I smile
.

It’s just a tiny little smile, but it makes my lips curve upward and probably gives me dimples or something, and I watch his face react to it. . . . His gaze softens, goes slack momentarily, almost in amazement, and he stares at me—at my mouth—with his oh-so-blue eyes.

The next moment he blinks, and all the traces of softness are gone.

“All right. Here’s my advice.” He leans forward, putting his hands flat against the desk, watching me, his neck craned slightly sideways. “You need to go
slowly
. You need to be as precise as possible during each turn—find a rhythm and stick to it. Without the rhythm you will not achieve balance. Since the race course is a regular wave pattern, you must visually find the center-point axis of each turn and
memorize
it. Then use it to create a repeating pattern in your mind.”

“Okay,” I say. “Thank you, that’s really helpful.”

He nods. “This is basic advice. More importantly, my advice for you is to
be careful
.”

“I will.”

“No, I mean it, Lark.” He pauses, and his gaze overwhelms me with intensity. “Be careful . . .
please
.”

I take a deep breath, hearing the sound of my pulse, the blood coursing wildly in my veins. “Do you really care if something happens to me, or is it only my Logos voice?”

“What do you think?” he says softly.

And then the mask slams down. He looks away, and we begin the voice lesson.

T
oday is the day of the Second Quantum Stream Race—a day that will determine the future of all the Cadets in the Fleet, and possibly myself, and by extension, my entire family.

I’ve had a nearly sleepless night, which does not bode well, but my stress levels more than make up for low energy.

I hurry through breakfast, forcefully cramming food while sitting with Chiyoko and Blayne and his Pilot partner Leon, since we all decided to meet up in the Cadet Deck Four Meal Hall before heading for the shuttle bays.

“Good luck, guys,” I say to Blayne and Leon, as they are about to head for Shuttle Bay Three.

“You too, Lark. And this time, no Breaching, okay? Don’t make us have to put you two on a quantum doggie leash or something.” Blayne nods to me and Chiyoko with a sarcastic one-handed Atlantean salute, as he transfers himself from the bench over to the hoverboard, and angles it nearly upright.

Meanwhile Leon stands waiting for him with a mellow friendly expression on his dark face.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

Chiyoko just nods to them silently.

Then Chiyoko and I rush to our own Shuttle Bay Four.

When we get there, just on time, there are already crowds forming.

We find shuttle #47, get in our relay line, and wait for the Race to begin.

“How do you feel?” I ask Chiyoko.

She pauses momentarily glancing around at the other Cadets dressed sharply and lined up around us. “Pretty good,” she says, pursing her lips. She’s about to say something else but then. . . .

“Attention, Cadets!” Instructor Okoi’s thundering voice comes from the walls of the shuttle bay, and immediately everyone falls in line and there is perfect silence.

“Welcome to the Second Quantum Stream Race! This is your final test! Pilot Pairs, line up!”

And then he directs the first pair to start. “The Final QS Race begins on my mark! First pair—you have control of the shuttle. Go!”

Chiyoko and I stand tensely as the first pair in our lineup sprints for the shuttle, and the same thing happens in all the other lines around the platforms.

We’re second in line, so we’re next.

In moments, the shuttles all around the bay come alive, and launch, ten seconds apart into the tunnel.

We hold our breaths, imagining the crazy scene happening out there. In about twenty minutes, they’ll be back and then it’s our turn.

I glance sideways and notice that Chiyoko starts to hyperventilate.

Oh, crap
. . . .

“Hey,” I whisper. “We’ll do great!”

In answer she only looks at me, nods, and continues breathing quickly, while her round face is paler than normal, and sweat breaks out on her forehead.

That’s when I grab Chiyoko’s clammy cold hand and squeeze it. “You and I are going to be amazing!” I tell her, over and over, for the next few minutes, as we continue to hold hands. Pretty soon, I think my hand is trembling too, but if I squeeze it hard enough neither one of us will know. . . .

Soon the launch channel fills up with wind as the shuttles start coming back.

And here comes our shuttle #47.

Oh crap, oh crap
. . . .

The first Pilot Pair gets out, grim-faced, and relinquishes control to us.

“Let’s go, girl!” I exclaim breathlessly, as Chiyoko and I race to climb the shuttle ladder.

“Which seat? Which seat?” Chiyoko momentarily panics.

“I’ll take the Pilot chair!” I say quickly, and sit down.

She sits down next to me in the Co-Pilot one. We both buckle in, while she calls up the secondary console from the wall, and I key myself to the Pilot console.

Then we both swipe the console undersides to power on, and the window shields come down.

I don’t waste a second and sing the ignition sequence while holding down the large four-color button. Immediately Chiyoko echoes me, activating her own console.

“Ready?” I say with a slightly crazed grin, while the shuttle hums to life all around us, and the golden threads of light race along the hull walls.

“Yes!” she says, glancing briefly at the fiery-red
QSBEP-1 Emergency Instructions
on the panel before her—while I stubbornly ignore mine.

Instead I stare at the Race Clock that reads 00:00.

“
Ten second warning . . . . Shuttle #47, prepare to enter the launch channel.”

“Here we go!” I exclaim, and I flip to Red Grid, while Chiyoko goes to Blue. Her hands are slightly unsteady, but I think her breathing is back under control.

“
. . . You may enter the launch channel.”

I sing the sequence, swipe on Red, and we coast carefully into the launch channel. I can almost feel the wind gusts churning the air around the shuttle, a slight rocking motion. . . .

“
Shuttle #47, you may launch now!”

I take a shuddering breath and swipe to engage the Thrust.

And, we’re off.

O
nce we’re outside, I waste no time getting us into the vertical stack of ten shuttles that wait at the side of the ICS-2 hull.

Meanwhile, even higher above us we see an endless cavalcade of speeding shuttles moving in sine-wave curves just at the periphery of the top of the ark-ship hull shape. That’s the upper level lane.

The exact same thing is happening directly below us, at the bottom of the ark-ship, where shuttles are passing in zig-zags in the opposite direction,
ripping
against the Stream.

“
Pilots, prepare to enter the race! Ten second warning. . . .”

Chiyoko is poised on Blue, while I flip to Yellow Grid, set our Destination, and then wait tense and ready on Red.

“
. . . two . . . one. . . . Start!”

The Race Clock goes from 00:00 to rapidly moving milliseconds.

I sing and swipe the Thrust.

We separate from the stack, together with the others, and rise into the upper level racing lane, merging carefully between traffic.

And then we begin the zig-zagging wave motion, flying directly above, and along the curvature of the next ark-ship’s right side, turning left into the 5-kilometer gap between the ships in column #2, then doing the same thing along the left curvature of the next ship, then turning right into the next 5-kilometer gap. . . .

It’s truly hypnotic.

Command Pilot Kassiopei was right. There’s a certain rhythm to it, and it would almost be easy, if not for the fact that we are surrounded by so many other ships on all sides, making the same curving arc maneuvers.

“How are we doing?” I mutter, swiping the curves on Red Grid.

“Okay,” Chiyoko mumbles in reply, as she micro-corrects my motion on Blue.

I glance up and our clock says 02:35.

We keep weaving around the ark-ships in column #2, moving at a steady speed.

Breathe, in and out. . . . Breathe. . . .

There is something soothing about the motion, if you don’t try to think too hard about what’s happening.