Page 72 of Hyperspeed
I climbed inside and powered up the vehicle. The engine thrummed, and the Holo-HUD lit up with RaceNet’s interface. At the push of a button, the thrusters began warming up to prepare for lights out. Al and I had filled the separate tanks with standard fuel and the dual-ion mix in the shuttle park, and there were no red lights on the dash to signify any problems.
In my wing mirror, I saw the top of Kai’s borrowed helmet. He sat in Al’s vehicle, and the big guy loomed over him, pointing out the different buttons and switches. I hoped Kai took it in, because I’d hate to see him blow up the engine with a fuel-boost overload if he mixed it up with the thrusters.
At the start of the season, it wouldn’t have bothered me—even a few weeks ago, I might’ve felt the same—but something had changed after Kai barged into my interview. An understanding had formed between us. Some kind of truce.
But we were still rivals, even if we had seen each other come, and our competitive fire wouldn’t fade; we were both too stubborn for that.
Maybe we could keep the fights to insults and barbs, without trying to kill each other—though I was sure I’d always have some urge to kill him; he was annoying as fuck on the best day. But at some point, the homicidal urges had eased, and I couldn’t decide if that was growth or cause for concern.
Still, there wasn’t an “us.”
Sure, he’d been the first to touch me. Had made me come harder than ever. But that didn’t flip my whole opinion of him.
He was still Kai. Still annoying. Yet somehow, I found him a little easier to tolerate.
“You good, sonic?”
I jumped at least a foot out of my seat, and I realised I hadn’t heard Al approach. I’d been busy staring into the middle distance, thinking about the way Kai had touched my tail.
“Yep, all good,” I squeaked. Then I cleared my throat and repeated it, forcing my voice into an octave deeper than usual. “All good.”
“You’ve got this, kid.” He thumped me on the back so hard I could’ve sworn I felt my heart get poked by a rib.
I nodded, and Al melted into the crowd of spectators dotted along the edge of the highway.
“Ready for this, hotshot?”
Kai’s voice came over the radio unexpectedly, and I jumped out of my skin for the second time in a matter of minutes. I’d forgotten that Al and I had connected our vehicle’s comms, using a specific frequency to talk with no one overhearing. Kai wouldn’t have known, so Al had must have shown him to fuck with me.
I sighed. “Get off the comms, Mercer.”
He cackled but said nothing more. A drone hovered above the starting line. Attached to the base were five red light bulbs, hanging from thin cables that swayed in the wind. It was a crude impersonation of the lights used in an ASL race, but I watched them just as closely.
My breathing slowed as each bulb illuminated.
One . . .
Two . . .
“See you at the end, Revvy,” Kai whispered.
Three . . .
Four . . .
“Good luck, Kai,” I breathed, just as the final bulb shone.
Then they darkened.
Engines roared. The crowd cheered. And we were off.
I surged ahead, blasting a quick burst of dual-ion fuel to pull the gap. Only Kai stuck close, tucked into my slipstream, watching every move. Neither of us knew the track, but I’d raced before in a handbuilt rig. Some drivers raced every week, so I knew who to watch if they came too close.
“Nice launch, little comet,” Kai remarked.
Hearing the name he’d only ever used once—voice rough as he’d breathed it in my ear, the damp heat of his firm, sweaty body pressed against mine—almost made me swerve off the road.
And that tiny fuck-up was all Kai needed. Right before the highway exit, the one where we’d loop back for the next lap, he sped past me.
