Page 1 of Crash Course Omega
Maddock
We speed into the 70th lap of the race. All we need is a couple of overtakes and that checkered flag. The heat and the elevation of the Brazil circuit is killing us, but we’ve got this.
I’m already in fourth place, and Jaxx, my racing partner in a matching green and white car, is dead in front of me in P3. So in front I could ram into the back of him.
I've been cursed this season by winning second place in nineteen races so far. We have four left of the championship after Brazil, and it looks like I might lose my streak. It’s infuriating, but with no driver consistently coming in first place, it puts me second on the season leaderboard.
All we need is to get past a Blue Ox driver in P2, and the Warren in first, and we'd be in it for the win. We need thirty points between us to keep our team, Grace, in the top three of the Constructors’ championship. If we take the risk, we'd dominate the podium.
“Jacob, tell Jaxx to let me pass,” I say into the microphone inside my helmet. At the other end is a team of strategists in the Grace comms tent planning moves for the race. Jacob Grace isn’t just my race engineer; he’s my best friend and our Team Principal, the man in charge of us all.
He isn’t supposed to be on the comms, but I won’t talk to anyone else during the race. Mainly because he’s the only one who will relay messages straight to my partner.
There’s a second of silence as he passes on the message.
“Negative, Jaxx is maintaining P3,” Jacob sighs, because he knows what’s coming.
“My tires are newer, and I’m beating his lap times! I can do it. Just tell him to fall back!”
But there’s nothing on the other end, but Jaxx won’t give it up. He never does.
It doesn’t matter that I can get us a win. Not to him.
I've raced the Brazil circuit with F1 eight years in a row. I know what I’m doing. This is Jaxx's fifth go. He spent three years building his skills in F2 with slower cars and slower races. This is his second year out on the F1 circuit—he isn’t on the same level.
The Blue Ox is pulling away, and we’re losing ground as we fight for P3. If Jaxx just stayed in line, I could use the slipstream created by the speed of his car to cruise before we reached the sweet spot where I could take over.
But my teammate is an asshole.
“He pitted twelve laps ago! I did five. Just tell him to tow me until the straight.”
We speed around the corner, keeping close to each other. I prepare for the overtake, hoping Jaxx gets the message. The second we run out into the straight, I push the car, getting up to 200kmph as the red barriers that run alongside the track shoot by in a blur. I should have a clear run if Jaxx goes wide. But of course, he keeps it tight.
He won’t let me through, and a growl tears from me. If I give in to my anger, I’d slam my car straight into his, and then we'd both be fucked.
I watch him maintain a balance between me and the Ox. You could measure the distance between the three of us with a ruler and wouldn't have found an inch difference. It would be perfect. Because Jaxx is that fucking good. But he never uses his talent to win.
“He has an opening! Tell him to go for it!” I shout to Jacob. If Jaxx isn’t going to help me, he can at least help our team by getting into P2.
As we reach the corner, Jaxx brakes too late, and he has to go wide.
It was close. So fucking close.
As I spin the corner, the car screeches, and I keep in fourth gear to get us around.
One oversteer, and I could sail into Jaxx.
But I keep it tight and hurl out of the corner just in time to clip Jaxx’s front wing.
There’s a screech somewhere. I feel the shudder in my car, but I can’t lose my concentration.
“Maddock, what the hell are you doing?” Jacob shouts. “We told you to hold. Jaxx almost lost his front left.”
“I'm going for it,” I say, tightening my grip.
“You are not. Hold your position. Stay with Jaxx. Finish P3 and P4.”
“Not a chance. I'm going for it.”
