Page 6 of Hyperspeed
And it shouldn’t have even mattered. I knew that. But it did.
When we entered the Nexus garage, I pushed all thoughts of pearlescent skin and dark eyes from my mind. It was qualifying time, and I needed to get my head in the game.
We’d been on the track for what felt like hours, pushing as hard as we could to get the best possible lap time. Jax and I sailed through the first qualifying session, with me in first and my teammate in second.
The slowest six racers were eliminated, relegated to the back of the grid for tomorrow’s race. Their final positions were based on their fastest overall lap time.
But while Jax and I had made it through with ease, so had Rev. According to Sam, who’d talked my ear off through the headset in my helmet, the rookie finished the session in sixth.
By the end of the second session, a further five racers were eliminated. Rev had slipped up into fifth, securing a position towards the front of the grid, and making it to the third and final session.
My current lap times were enough to sit pretty on pole position, but it was still all to play for. With five minutes left on the clock, Jax decided he was comfortable with his time and retired to the pit lane. His lead over the others—including his “bestie,” Valen—was enough to secure second position, despite finishing early.
I decided to retire shortly after. Sam had already assured me it was almost impossible for someone else to snatch pole position.
Slowing down as I exited the stretch of canyons, I planned to divert into the pit lane, but as I approached the fork in the road, a vehicle I didn’t recognise flew past me. Their speed made the hair on my arms stand on end. The teamlogo was a blur, but I caught the subtle blue and silver detailing—Zenith Nova’s team colours.
It wasn’t Zylo’s vehicle, so only one other person could be behind the wheel.
With only a split second to decide, I passed the entrance to the pit lane and increased my speed to catch up with Revvak Arathiel.
Sorry, Sam. Turns out I wasn’t comfortable with “almost.”
“What are you doing, Kai?” Sam asked over the radio.
Rev was only a few yards ahead, and when a gust of wind blew along the straight, I flicked my glove to adjust the stabilisers. It angled the vehicle just right, to allow the wind to push me forward rather than off-course. The move worked well, carrying me ahead of Rev.
I grinned as I left him behind in a cloud of dust. “Trying to improve my time,” I replied, navigating the sharp corner that would take me deep into the cracks of Vortex Canyon.
Of the ten tracks in the Astro Space League, Vortex Canyon was the easiest, but that didn’t mean it came without challenges. Ithara’s relentless winds and ever-shifting layers of sand and dust meant the track’s layout changed every year. A single rogue gust could throw a driver off course, sending them straight into the natural stone walls lining most of the track.
Even Zylo, an Itharan native, sometimes struggled to grasp its nuances.
The road ahead dimmed as I made it deeper into the canyon, and light struggled to penetrate through the narrow cracks above.
The decreased vision meant I had to rely on the track’s strategically placed lights to see fifty feet ahead of me. But they also meant I could see the vehicle coming up on my left, moving fast enough to pass my rear wing.
Rev accelerated hard enough to pull up beside me. When I chanced a glance at him, he was looking ahead. His hands were tight around the wheel, but they looked steady and in control.
“One minute left, Kai,” Sam reported. “Remember, race day istomorrow.”
I grunted in confirmation, knowing better than to take irresponsible risks, and turned my full attention back to the track. The rookie and I drove side by side for a long time, and it was easy to forget there was anyone besides us in the competition.
The last corner before the pit lane approached—one of the sharpest on the track—I eased pressure off the thrusters to decrease my speed and nudged the wheel towards the wider racing line.
I expected Rev to do something similar, but instead of slowing down, he sped up. He barrelled towards the hairpin, tyres screaming, closer and closer to the track limits . . . too close.
I bit my lip, eyes locked on the wall creeping up fast. He hit the brakes at the last possible moment, and the car fishtailed wildly. I sucked in a breath, sure he’d smash straight into the rock.
But then, just like that, he caught it. Snapped the wheel to the left and drifted clean around the corner.
As he blasted down the straight, my heart hammered in my throat. “What the fuck?” I muttered, tuning out Sam’s awed disbelief crackling in my ears.
Thisis what I was worried about. It’s what everyone worries about when an inexperienced racer enters the professional league. Reckless, dangerous moves that could harm not only themselves but the other drivers around them.
That last corner was always a bitch to get around on race day. When there’s a wall of other vehicles trying to hog the racing line, it’s nearly impossible to overtake. Better to wait until you’re back on the straight, in the open air and with the walls of the canyon behind you.
If Rev pulled a trick like that tomorrow, he could kill someone. He could killhimself.
