The competition thinned enough for the field of mecks to reveal more cohesive patterns, and those patterns all lead toward Erin and Cenn.

  As Erin entered the track, Cenn chose to avoid the waiting clash mecks to the side and instead barreled right into the pack of upcoming dash mecks. Their formation flowed around her like a stone splits a river, providing a buffer between her and those hoping to pick her off along the sides.

  One dash meck thought they’d try to capitalize and dropped low to sweep her legs as they passed one another. Cenn timed her jump perfectly—high enough to clear the leg, but low enough so her knee crashed into its chassis. Fire burst from the dash meck as Cenn ran through, and then outran the explosion behind her.

  Westwood Motors’ score jumped—now just three points off first place—and the crowd lost it. Mina however, seemed concerned, and it took but a moment to guess why.

  “How’s our boy?” he asked.

  “You tell me.”

  She slid his medchart onto Daiko’s holo: elevated heart rate, uneven breathing—cautionary, but not alarming. The critical muscle-fatigue readings were more concerning. Erin’s ability to run the whole race had always been the gamble; the plan lived or died on his endurance. His hydration packs were loaded with electrolytes, and he’d taken his one and only stim shot at lap seventy-five. Daiko refused to push more despite Cenn’s insistence; he'd seen too many pilots lose their connection to reality from overuse. Erin was a natural anyway, and had taken to Daiko’s training like a sponge.

  “Erin,” Daiko said on the private channel, “we’re pulling ‘critical’ on your chart. Check in.”

  Erin’s voice came in smooth as ever. “Feels like I’ve been racing for two hours straight.”

  Daiko smiled,“that checks out. And the ticker?”

  “Solid.”

  “Good, man. Don’t forget that the only reason I agreed to come out of retirement was because you all told me pilots didn’t die in SportMeck,” Daiko saw Erin smile on the cockpit feed. “Register?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then bring it home.”

  He closed the com.

  “The only reason?” Mina was still eying Erin’s med-chart, “here I thought it was because you were bored.”

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  “Yeah, well, telling him I couldn’t hack it as a gardener wasn’t as inspiring.”

  “Mhm.”

  “Put that away, he’s alright. Now it’s our job to keep it that way.”

  She sighed but complied.

  Erin reentered the arena a few minutes later, and slowed just enough for Cenn to catch up. Together, they cut through the beleaguered looking field

  “Fourteen mecks left, folks,” the emcee boomed. “Westwood Motors has passed W.A.S.E. in the standings, they’re now in second place!”

  Over a hundred mecks destroyed…The track looked far too clean for that to be true. Daiko’s eyes narrowed—several clash mecks formed a blockade on the middle exit.

  “Cheer all you want,” the emcee added. “It looks like no one wants the rookies to win this year.”

  We need one more trick.

  “Mina,” he said, “clash mecks can go onto the track, correct?”

  “Yeah, but only a team’s dash meck can score lap points—”

  He didn’t wait for her to finish, he flipped open the coms.

  “Slow down. Both of you.”

  They complied, though everyone but Erin was asking him why. He ignored them for now, and pulled up Cenn’s remote systems. There were few things he was legally allowed to do from the pit, but he found the flashiest option. He cranked her exhaust output into the red—flames and smoke burst beneath her chassis—then cut it back.

  “What the hell!” Cenn barked, and added a series of impressive curses.

  “Relax. It was just a clean burn. Hold speed until you hit the blockade. At the last second break together toward the open exit. I want both of you to take it.”

  Val laughed over the com.

  “Looks like the clock might’ve struck midnight for this Cinderella team.”

  The blockade raced to meet his pilots but their net had only gone as far as to keep Erin from taking the center route. They broke right this time, as Daiko instructed. It was an acute sign of trust that Cenn and Erin had even listened to him.

  The opposing mecks watched them go, likely as confused as the crowd sounded.

  “Someone might want to tell Cenn Harker that she’s a little too big and slow to be a dash meck.”

  Daiko hardly registered the jeers, he was watching for B.O.M.S. and W.A.S.E.

  “Hold that pace,” he told them as they aligned on the track, “just wait.”

  On Daiko’s holo yellow penalty flags strobed, as teams filed a challenge with the judges. They winked off a moment later. Bless that your memory, Mina.

  The dash pilots for B.O.M.S. and W.A.S.E. entered the arena and met up with their counterparts. The four mecks seemed oddly close for competitors.

  “Come on…”

  The two teams raced toward the track entrance as a quartet, and for a moment Daiko thought he made the wrong call, but then they arced into the same track that Cenn and Erin took.

  “What is happening!?”

  Daiko eased back in his chair, hot and satisfied. “Drop another thirty percent speed. Make it look like you’re hurting, Cenn.”

  “They’re going to catch up,” Val warned, Cenn joined in her protestations.

  “You want them to…” Mina said slowly, then more loudly so the whole team could hear through the com.

  Daiko gave his daughter a wink, “here's the plan.”

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