Page 18 of Hyperspeed
“When’s the next race?” Dad asked, breaking the quiet.
I looked across the room at the calendar hanging on the wall in my parents’ kitchen, and my chest tightened with anticipation. “Next weekend.”
Grandma narrowed her eyes at me. “No more chasing boulders this time.”
“I promise. Wouldn’t want to give the old man a heart attack.” Dad burst into laughter. He flicked the tip of my ear, making it twitch, while Mum collected the empty bowls.
We spent the rest of the evening immersed in casual conversation, talking about everything and nothing at all, laughing at the time I shredded the carpet in the hallway when my old kart’s axle snapped. Warmth and laughter filled the room—two things that always made everything feel right.
And as I sat there, surrounded by those who loved me, I felt a deep sense of gratitude.
But even with the comfort of home wrapping around me, my mind drifted to the next race. The anticipation buzzed beneath my skin like static. I still had something to prove, not just for myself, but for all the Iskari. To show them we weren’t weak, that we could stand toe to toe with the best. And if I was going to do that, I’d have to pass Kai Mercer.
Something told me he wouldn’t make it easy.
No Guts, No Glory, No Grid Position
Kai
Horizon Rings was one of my favourite tracks. It wasn’t just about driving wheels to the ground. There were stretches of zero gravity as you circuited Solara 9, a gas giant on the far side of the galaxy.
Horizon Rings was all about flying, and there was no need for pit stops. There was more room for high-speed manoeuvres, flips and tricks, and a shit tonne of fun.
Rev would be in his element.
I’d never admit it, but I’d watched the replay of Vortex Canyon at least a dozen more times since Jax came over. I watched Rev’s vehicle the entire time, fascinated by how easily he navigated the track. There were other rookies in the league this year, but Rev blew them all out of the water. Hell, he was even better than some of the seasoned pros.
I’d never tell him—couldn’t risk inflating his ego even more—and I stood by the fact that it didn’t pay to be reckless just for the sake of it. Jax could preach that a bit of danger made for a fun race, but fucking around didn’t get you the win.
No, it took focus. Determination. Precision.
Flying around Horizon Rings was my kind of fun. I’d just win all the points while I was doing it.
The Nexus shuttle took us from Quorath—the nearest inhabitable planet to Solara 9—and dropped us off at the floating space station slash paddock.
The surrounding gravity barrier provided a breathable atmosphere, so it felt like any other paddock on the ground. Bright lights made everything visible, and beyond the paddock’s ledge, you could see the floating rings of ice and debris that gave the track its name.
The shuttle trembled as we passed through the barrier, accounting for the sudden change in g-force, and then we landed.
Disembarking ahead of Jax and Ailor, I skipped across the asphalt to the team garage.
I was excited. Sue me.
“Gonna have some fun today?” Jax asked.
“I always have fun,” I replied with a grin. “But today I’m gonna havemorefun.”
After settling into the garage, we followed the usual routine—analysing last year’s data, reflex training, and a quick scan of the track itself. Drones had followed the route prior to our arrival. They painted a picture of the course we’d take on Sunday, creating a holographic diorama that teams could use to refine their strategy.
Given the rings constantly moved, the track layout often changed. Even in the twenty-four hours between qualifying and race day, the route could end up completely different. We also had to consider the changes in gravitational force. If you weren’t paying attention, they could pull you off course and push you in the wrong direction. Plus, thick clouds of gas decreased visibility in certain sectors.
Unlike Vortex Canyon, this track was wider and not caged in by stone walls on either side. Instead, deep space surrounded you. A blanket of stars that you could fall into if you lost an ounce of focus. I’d driven here multiple times.
But as I watched the hologram spin, the same rush of exhilaration I’d felt in my rookie season made my blood fizz.
When my turn came to head out for practice, I snatched my helmet from Sam and jumped into the vehicle. From my position, parked in front of the garage, I could see Rev chatting with a Zenith engineer.
He’d pulled his multicoloured hair into a low, messy bun, the pointed tips of his ears visible through the strands, and I watched as he brushed back some pieces that had fallen to frame his face, revealing the fine lines on his neck and jawline. They currently glowed a fiery gold.
