"Pomona" was the Roman goddess of fruitful abundance and plenty. The name was chosen for the large amount of resources (minerals and ores) found on the planet.
Pomona began its life as a mining settlement in 2162, its natural wealth a key part in rebuilding after World War 3. Despite net being particularly far from Sol by astronomical standards, Pomona has always kept to itself and the Federation was happy to let them as long as the exports kept coming in, the planet not being a particularly enticing place for people to move to from elsewhere.
Industry and Role in the Federation
Pomona remains an exporter of raw materials and industrial products such as metal castings and heavy machinery. Since the planet offers both extreme heat, extreme cold and sprawling underground tunnel systems, Pomona also hosts numerous training facilities for military and emergency personnel. Tourism is virtually nonexistent, the only notable destination being the preserved wreck of the ECS Ausdauer, the ship that settled Pomona before crashing on the cold side in 2171 due suffering a propellant feed failure during a maneuver that took it low enough for aerobraking to bring the ship down.
Population and Society
Pomona houses a population of roughly four billion, most employed in mining, refineries, heavy industry manufacturing and cargo hauling. Most of the population centers are subterranean to allow comfortable habitation despite the surface temperatures, with surface settlements dotted around the terminator line where air temperatures are more favorable, and launch and landing pads on the cold side to avoid the terminator line's turbulent weather caused by the meeting of hot and cold air from each side.
Due to mostly living underground, personal space is sacred to Pomonans. Thalassophobia and agoraphobia triggered by open spaces is not uncommon among the population, many of whom who never venture "topside." The language also reflects this, with most weather-related phrases (such as "hate to rain on your parade" or calling someone "sunshine") disappearing entirely while many mining or geology-based ones appeared.
Pomona has never been a popular place for people to move to or even visit, making most Pomonans a self-sufficient crowd, proud of being able to thrive on their "big-little shithole" and still provide crucial materials to the Federation.
Astrid Weiss
Gender
Female
Age
30 (Born 21/11/2160)
Appearance
Astrid is a pale-skinned woman with blue-gray eyes and sporting shoulder-length dark brown hair usually worn in a regulation-compliant bun when on duty and however she rolled out of her bunk when not. Being a heavyworlder, Astrid is shorter than an Earthborn human standing at 157 cm (5'2"), with a more muscular build to cope with Pomona's heavier gravitational pull that requires a modified strength training routine to maintain over long periods of time spent in a 1 g environment.
She bears a few scars on the left side of her face from what she charitably calls a "workplace accident." The damaged nerve endings cause a tic when she gets agitated or nervous. The same accident also cost Astrid her left arm, replaced with a cybernetic one at the shoulder, painted bright orange with a full sleeve artwork of various air and space craft Astrid has flown throughout her life.
She speaks quickly with a clear, level voice (Calling her "Bitching Betty" due to the similarity is ill advised).
Personality
Astrid is among the lucky few who were able to turn their hobby into a job without it feeling like a job, and it shows both in the good and bad. She's a perfectionist behind the stick or a similar equivalent, demanding only the best from both herself and her subordinates and sparing no effort to ensure they are trained to do exactly that, displaying unusual amounts of patience in doing so. But God help anyone who tries to tell her how to do her job without actual experience. Listening to lectures by First Assignment Instructor Pilots at the academy was a physically painful experience.
Off duty, she is a typical fighter pilot - laid-back, confident (Comparisons to Ikaros are likewise received unfavorably), with a distinctly Pomonan streak - a staunch patriot ready to spring to her homeworld's defense at the slightest insult from outside - only Pomonans get to seriously shittalk Pomona - and perhaps a bit too honest when decorum allows. She jumped at the chance to serve aboard a Pathfinder-class out of curiosity and the promise of deep space, but isn't exactly what one would call "diplomatic" - if aliens want to come along and help, good for everyone involved. But humanity is always first in her eyes.
Role
As the Arcadian's Chief Helmsman, her primary duties include:
- STL navigation and flight.
- FTL navigation.
- Overseeing and training members of her department, as well as cross-trainees from other departments.
- Coordinating with the Engineering Department regarding the state and maintenance of the ship.
- Astrid also doubles up as one of Arcadian's Ranger pilots.
Skills
- Atmospheric & Exoatmospheric flight and navigation: Whether you need to get from one side of the star system to the other as fast or as economically as you can, fly through a mountain valley to avoid detection or explain in detail why some maneuver is stupid and no pilot worth their license would try it, Astrid is a solid choice for the job. She also maintains an up-to-date Ranger-class combat flight certification.
- Survival training: Part and parcel for a military pilot, though she'd still need to rely on xenobiology/xenobotany experts to determine what is and isn't edible in an alien ecosystem and Marines for combat beyond basic self defense.
- Basic Technical Education: Though by no means an engineer, Astrid has a general understanding of sublight propulsion, navigation equipment and sensors of both the Pathfinder and Ranger-class craft.
- EVA Operations: As part of training for the possibility of having to eject in space or recovering those who had to do it, Astrid knows her way around space suits and how to safely work with them.
Personal Belongings/Equipment
- USF service pistol (coilgun variant).
- Spare arm (Painted to resemble a natural one to also be usable where her main prosthetic's aesthetic would conflict with regulations.)
Background
As the sole child of a World War 3 veteran pilot and a geologist, Astrid was exposed to aerospace flight since an early age, both in theory on account of her father and in practice when her family moved to the newly established colony of Pomona where her mother got a job as a prospector. She knew early on what she wanted to do in life, obtaining a General Aviation license at 15 and enrolling in a USF military academy on Mars straight out of high school. By any metric, she was an average student in the classroom, but sat firmly in the top three whenever she was in the flight seat. The number of times she’s been shouted up for running her mouth and other small transgressions was likewise impressive. Her scores were enough to keep that from being a significant problem, and in 2183, she graduated into active service as a fighter pilot, flying the callsign "Wildfire" due to tipping over the grill and setting herself on fire during a squadron cookout.
But peacetime was boring for the newly-minted Flight Lieutenant, so she took every extra course she could. Fighter Weapons School? Of course. Transorbital flight? Why not? Advanced weapons qualification? Hell yes! It was a combination of her practical flight skills, broad additional qualifications and her "Eh, life happens." attitude that opened the door to a more exotic assignment, becoming a test pilot in 2186.
Astrid's career took a sharp turn in late 2187, when during a test flight of a heavy fighter equipped with new type of engines, the number two engine decided to change careers and become a grenade instead. Astrid had made one critical mistake then: Instead of ejecting immediately, she tried to save the prototype, not realizing the extent of the damage reached beyond just the machine. She managed to coax the crippled craft onto final approach, but it was during the landing attempt that she discovered that some shrapnel from the failed engine had torn through the cockpit and her left arm - the one that controlled the throttles and thrust reversers - which she hadn't noticed before due to the shock and freezing cold numbing it. This late realization meant she'd come in too fast and instead of a competent emergency landing, she slammed the fighter into the runway with all the grace of a dropped brick to get it down in time.
Astrid woke up in a hospital without the injured arm and with bandages across her face, as a part of the safety harness snapped during the crash and her helmet struck the instrument panel, shattering the visor. Although she recovered, she was not medically cleared to return to flying fighters again. She instead thought it might be a good time to change direction and learn something new and made a transfer to capital ships, serving aboard a light cruiser on extended patrol duty before being picked for the Arcadian.
Miscellaneous
- Astrid knows people know of her tic and sometimes mimics it when off duty to get annoying people to leave her be.
- She despises water. She can swim and passes regular water survival training, but she'd honestly rather be on fire than submerged.
- Some would say coffee is a permanent part of her blood's chemical composition. She would agree.
Day 2: 00:31:21 Grestin Monastery, Somewhere overlooking the the village of Pristupin, Libor Province, Republic of Polavia
Borys Skala
Borys took several deep breaths, verifying his ribs were bruised but not broken and turned to give Felix a thumbs up when he called for sitreps when he got shot again.
He gave up on trying to get back to his feet when his first attempt was thwarted by another round, instead crawling around his rock pile to try to get himself out of the way, glancing at the wine bottle in his vest with every subsequent bullet impact.
He must’ve seen that bottle 20 times in half as many seconds.
At last, the fight was over, Borys finally getting up as he sniffed the air. “Someone’s making shashliki?” He asked, seemingly completely missing and having to be made aware of the forest fire heating up behind them.
Getting to the ruined monastery hadn’t been that hard, the team walking slowly enough to let him mostly keep pace. But two dozen bullet impacts later, with the lingering mental wobble of still having Oksana’s vessel on him and now having to run like he was stealing chrome parts off a Zhiguli and got caught by the owner was a bit much for someone in his state and with the length of his legs. He had finally caught up the 30-odd meters when the team got held up by a ditch, heaving air and wincing at the pain in his ribs that shot through his arcane alcoholism’s increased tolerance. He took a breath and a few steps back to get a running start - or what would pass for one, anyway - when he felt an upwards pull on the back of his vest.
He realized what was happening. He wouldn’t have thought of it, but he saw it happen.
The fucking gall of the pussycat…
The absolute balls on this motherfucker.
“The mirror, mirror, debil!” Borys protested as he got yeeted over the ditch, sprawling out on landing and face planting into the dirt instead of the instinctive tuck and roll he would have attempted normally had he not also foreseen the sounds of cracking glass.
He hit the dirt when the Dushka started barking, knowing full well there was no walking away from that one. He was just trying to think of what to do about that when Silas ran up, the punch doing to the pain in his ribs what PSA used to do to human rights - making them disappear without a trace.
Then, an idea.
Borys took a magazine out of his pouch and pitched it in the UAZ’ general direction like a grenade, using the distraction and Keodis’ support fire to move over to where Felix was holed up. He grabbed Felix’ arm, probably messing up a few shots as he pulled him back behind cover. “Got an idea.” He said like it would explain anything and waited for Felix to ask what it was before raising Svetlana up and bringing her down fast, smacking the shovel-stock into Felix’ stomach as hard as he could with one hand while shoving his finger in the DSR operative’s throat to get him to throw up and do his lion thing.
In Borys’ plastered mind, it was a solid plan.
And also quid pro quo for getting picked up like a wet cat.
And Oksana could probably thank her guardian angels for the chaos of the Dushka not letting her see 17 versions of it.
Tuesday September 14th, 2094, 10:25 Buenos Aires, Argentina
”The Ranch” (Carrera Condor Formula AG Team headquarters)
Bea sat in her apartment at the Ranch, decompressing from the spat with Ava. She expected as much. Maybe even worse. But it still stung. ”’I did it for your own good. Because you don’t want to be tangled in this.’” Be muttered to herself in an unflattering approximation of Ava’s voice, ”Yeah, ‘keep me safe’ by not informing me of something that’s already killed a pilot. Great job, Dumbledore…” She scoffed when her phone pinged. Bea stared at the message for a few seconds, confused like a forest bee. She had to scroll up through the conversation and check through emails to verify that no, she wasn’t losing it, they never talked about anything like that.
Tue 14/09 10:29 TO: PAUL [Batt: 87%]
———— Today ————
> So thinking about trying art therapy. Any recommendations on where to start? What are we doing while in your town for the race? I need to know what to pack.
Being honest, I don’t think I’ll have the time or the energy to do much after these few weeks, sorry mate.
Her finger hovered over the send button. Then again…
Tue 14/09 10:30 TO: PAUL [Batt: 87%]
———— Today ————
> So thinking about trying art therapy. Any recommendations on where to start? What are we doing while in your town for the race? I need to know what to pack. > I’m versatile. Bring what looks interesting/fun to you, we’ll figure it out as we go. I have some stuff at the factory too, so I can supplement. > Maybe pack the therapist. And if you show up with a primary school art supplies box, I will laugh at you and neither you, I or god can stop that. 😛
She could use a distraction.
Tuesday September 14th, 2094, 12:48 Buenos Aires, Argentina
”The Ranch” (Carrera Condor Formula AG Team headquarters)
Bea felt like her brain had torn free in her head and was now spinning freely. With Ava off advertising for PolarVault, it was just up to Bea and Alex Valle, the team’s development pilot, to dial down the setup for Argentina and it was taking a mental toll. Her mind felt like the week before graduating high school, and breaks went from being time she could do something not work-related became time she could do nothing at all for 30 minutes.
Picking up her lunch, she spied the blonde mane of Elise Vogel, Carrera Condor’s junior series pilot, at one of the tables. Bea had seen her a grand total of six times in the 13 months she’d been the team's employee herself and spoke to her exactly twice, so it was high time they actually got to know each other, especially since Bea now had a reason to think they might be racing together next year.
Bea walked up to her table. ”Hi, you got a minute?” ”Sure deal.” Elise nodded. ”I saw your fight with Alice at Silverstone. A bit tight in places, but good stuff.” Bea set her tray down and sat down. ”Thovex? Easy. All helmet, no head, you just shove her a little, she loses her shit and detonates.” Elise replied nonchalantly. Bea hid most of her expression behind her sandwich, the free admission of such a mindset hitting her from the left field. ”Thanks for coming in to help with the setup.” Bea tried to shift topics, ”I swear, Alex looked like his head was about to pop like a champagne cork last night.” ”I mean, what’s his job, right? I had to postpone, like, four things because of this.” The Andorran shrugged, sounding like a teenager who was told to take the trash out. ”But if Ava’s gonna be mid on track, might as well farm engagement.” Falling out aside, Bea found herself torn between telling her to mind her manners and actually agreeing there. ”For real, Silverstone? What was that?” Elise waved her fork around like a flag marshal in a hurricane, droplets of salad dressing splattering the table. ”You go P8 to P5, almost bin it and re-pass three top tier pilots in a lap, literally going feral on them. And she qualifies P16 and gets passed by Henry? Come oooon.” ”Think you’d have done better?” Bea said before she could stop herself, too dry to miss unless your name was Elise Vogel. ”Duh.” Elise rolled her eyes, Bea not really paying attention as what she had just said clicked in her mind. The instinct to stick up for the Chilean driver, built over months, was still there even after the previous day’s eruption, like a Pavlovian reflex. ”By the way, I wanted to tell you: That chrome of yours - old and new - is straight-up insaaaane!” Bea winced, remembering herself talking like that. When she was ten. ”Thanks.” ”That’s, like, sooo much marketing potential. Your painted for the punk crowd, swap to a clean look for the old codgers, your racing ones for the geeks… Huuuge L for VIXN for not signing with us, one photoshoot with you and that would, like, break the feed!” ”I’m actually glad they didn’t. I’ve seen their new lineup, NOVA can keep them.” Bea leaned slightly away with discomfort, not that Elise noticed. ”Oh, I get it. You’re aiming higher. What is it? Prada? Victoria’s Secret? No, no! You totally radiate Under Armour vibes. You should've done something in Hawaii - white beaches, surfboards, that's, like, made for a swimsuit ad, instant trending, no kidding. Plus you could've leaned into that whole Oceanian Whanau vibe since you-” ”I’m not in any way Hawaiian. My mum is.” Bea cut Elise off, ”And I’m a racing driver. Not a glorified stripper.” She added, annoyance bubbling through. Elise regarded her for a few seconds. ”That’s dumb. Why’d you get them then?” ”So a crash wouldn’t snap my spine and I could get myself and my co-driver out of a wrecked car if needed?” Bea asked like it was the obvious answer, but by now knew they were operating on completely different frequencies. Fate provided a graceful exit in the form of Alistair walking in. ”Shite, I have to go.” Bea excused herself, stuffed the rest of her sandwich into her mouth and did her best to walk away naturally.
”Walk with me.” She mumbled through a full mouth. ”Uh? Sure?” He fell into step, the cafeteria far behind them. ”What’s going on?” ”Nothing, you’re good. Please, God, let it be Cassie next year, not her…” Bea groaned as she walked away. ”Wait, next year?” Alistair was left to ask the empty hallway.
Friday october 1st, 2094, 11:00 Buenos Aires, Argentina
DELTΔ HYPER
Episode 14: The Tango Swing
”So whose stupid idea was this?” Were the first words heard in Bea’s segment, the Briton not at all happy about having to suit up for an interview, arms dangling loosely beside her head.
In addition to a custom ship livery - The black of the ship replaced with the Argentinian flag, the wiphala accompanied by ribbons made up of the flags and mottos of the team’s other partner nations flowing along the ship’s lines - and a white-and-blue racing suit with the Sol de Mayo symbol emblazoned across her chest to match that would also be used in Brazil the following week, Bea’s regular helmet was replaced by the design contest winner. The base was circled by a green motif with silhouettes of galloping horses mimicking the pampas, the rest of the helmet a blue to white gradient rising from the pampas to the top serving as a canvas to the circuit map, each straight and corner having a roughly playing card-sized image of some famous moment that occurred there throughout the circuit's history attached to it.
That was after throwing half a Sagan of designs featuring just a stylized flag, a handful of those featuring the Falklands and one absolute abomination that made her helmet look like a giant Stargazy Pie in the bin.
”Bea, we're at the home of Carrera Condor! What a turnaround it has been for your team, and from your comments, it sounds like you're taking things stuff upside down. How have you engaged with the fans locally, given we've seen so much of your #FansFirst initiative? Anything to say to the fans, in Espanol?”
”'Upside down,' you think you're funny?” Bea grinned behind her fishbowl before continuing in Spanish, sometimes having to pause to look for words or rephrase when she talked herself into a dead end. ”Obviously the home race of the team is going to come with some pressure, especially given how passionate local fans are, but we're handling it. The PolarVault ad campaign was a bit ill timed, but between Alex, me and Elise we think we managed the prepwork. Big shoutout to Elise for taking the overtimes and coming in to help.” She gave a thumbs up, visibly confused for a moment which way to turn the hand so it would be facing the right side up for the audience. ”The initiative seems to be popular, hopefully not just because of the novelty. We're getting a lot of good feedback, what to keep, what to change. There's some teething issues obviously, but as far as I've seen people are taking it with humor when we have to adjust something on the fly.” She continued before switching to English to address Aurora directly with visible relief, ”I haven’t seen you lot there yet. What’s the deal? Rory and Rosie talk a big game during commentary, we want to see how they actually handle the strategy calls.” She added with a mischievous grin.
”I should’ve brought a parachute, then I could have just unclipped myself at the end of this and fallen away in style.” She joked, tactfully ignoring the safety net below the couch just out of shot.
Day 1: 21:32:05 Babuskha's House (Oksana's Grandmother) Somewhere outside the village of Pristupin, Libor Province Republic of Polavia
Magazines: Loaded
Borys Skala
Borys had to laugh, as it appeared the seer who could see alternate futures had never before encountered an eventuality where he wasn't an absolute prick. Then again, maybe it wasn't so weird, all he really knew about her Craft was 'Sana tells you not to step in stupid places.' nor have they ever worked together.
Day 2: 00:23:02 Grestin Monastery, Somewhere overlooking the the village of Pristupin, Libor Province, Republic of Polavia
Borys Skala
Borys was indeed ‘at all angles’ as he seemingly walked in every direction but perpendicular to the rest of the formation, quietly thankful for the forest being dense enough that there typically was a tree he could steady himself against without stopping.
”You don't need to spot. It's a vessel, no idea how it performs on drunk people, but hopefully you won't puke, and you might see a little bit forwards when in combat. Lose it, I'll fucking actually foresee you getting shot. By me. I've not had a problem that hasn't been fixed by 762 by 54 millimetre yet no matter how many beers someone slugs.”
“I heard that you were charming, Butterfly, but the stories did not do it justice.” He chuckled flatly, interrupted mid-sentence by a drunken hiccup, aware he was probably about to get elbowed, and accepted the binoculars.
And that was a mistake.
Borys was immediately overcome with the feeling of a giant wringing vodka out of his brain while kicking him in the stomach, and among all that, what he for some reason recognized as Oksana elbowing him in the face after a drunken comment about ‘her attitude possibly being fixed by 16 centimeters’ he did not remember even thinking about. Seeing himself throwing up from the sensation threatened to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, were it not for the fact that something he saw in the premonitions punched through the haze over his mind. “We just had cabbage soup and vareniki. Why am I throwing up just the semechki from the pub?” Borys groaned quietly, a completely mad string of words Oksana would understand perfectly nonetheless. “I think I understand the ketamine now.” He continued, finally stabilizing himself. He took a look through the rangefinder and spat on the ground as soon as he clocked the insignia. He completely understood where Roxie was coming from. In fact, that was why he had to agree with Felix. “No. Too quick for him, he deserves as he gives.” He knew better than trying to apply reason to an angry Polavian woman, but revenge? That could work. “Good thing Rowan brought a car, that takes care of the car battery and jumper cables.”
“You have an admirer.” Borys said in Oksana’s direction, expecting the Polavian secret police to be after a Polavian who emigrated. “Or not…” He had to correct himself not long after. “Has anyone else committed something atrocious that angry people might want you for that you want to come clean about? Small genocide here, a bit of stealing from the mob on the side, using 20 year old cognac for sauce? No one?”
Borys reached forward and cupped his hand over the muzzle of Oksana’s SVU, being sober enough to know he was sober enough for that to turn his hand into meat confetti if she fired. But he never saw that happen - whether it was because Oksana wouldn’t do it or if he just wasn’t using her vessel right was in the stars though. “Let them fight, then finish off the survivors.”
Or not, hostiles approaching them making the situation that had been sort of manageable until then a complete shitshow.
”I've got the two approaching the walls in front of Felix and Rowan. Can you get the group right? Without gathering collateral our team? Spoiler alert. You can.”
Borys had already taken a swig of the wine for good luck and good measure, Svetlana at the ready as he took two attempts and a few seconds to stand up before charging out of their hiding place.
“FUCK OFF, KURWA, WE’RE HAVING A MOMENT HERE!”
The slurred war cry echoed around the area as Borys headed to an outcropping of rocks, not to take cover but to use for support. The sharp bark of AKs coincided with a pair of hammers slamming into his side plate, the impact barely felt in his state except for toppling him over mid-stride. That turned out to be worse for the PSA goons than Borys, since he sprayed a wide arc as he fell, forcing those among them still alive to hit the ground and stop shooting, giving the team an opening and Borys time to pick himself back up and stumble over to the rocks, still yelling drunken expletives to try to draw attention to himself while Oksana’s vessel gave him just enough of a heads up to turn into or away from incoming fire, spreading the bullet impacts somewhat evenly across his ballistic plates.
Sunday September 5th, 2094, 20:00 Marina Bay, Singapore
The Race
It felt like as soon as Bea rammed the throttle open, she immediately had to stand on the brakes as Nora and Amy fought through turn one like rabid dogs, getting a close look at the back of Paul’s ship as the ships behind the leading pair concertina’d so hard Max scored two positions out of it. She had to admit those were some nice passes, having caught them on the big screens around the track. Soon, she didn’t have time to watch TV as she reeled Paul in.
Of the leading five, Bea did not expect Amy to be the one to slip up first. That threw a spanner in the works for Bea, because the already big enough Kiwi-shaped problem behind her had now been joined by the newest model of the Verstappen-type racing Terminators. The restart did nothing for her except make her roll her eyes at the state of the rules. Things were starting to heat up - literally, as she’d started using the closed radiator flaps trick to stay ahead of Harrison, the Kiwi having woken up and chosen violence, experience covering for the fact that the Carrera Condor was now the better craft on paper. It came down to a nearly lap-long duel, Harrison gaining a millimeter through every corner until she had to yield or Jen it. Her defense against Amy lasted exactly four laps before the blare of the engine temp high alert put an end to it, forcing her to back off and cool the ship for the next five minutes, actually putting her in Max’ striking range by the end of the race.
”That’s P5. Tough one, but it’s still good points.” ”Aaaaah, that was shite, mate. Just couldn’t keep up.” ”We’re still closing the gap. We’ll get them by season’s end.”
Bea Ward @MadBea: "Since the next race is the home race of our team, a one-off helmet design is in order to accompany the special livery. Starting now and ending Sunday 19th at midnight, I’m taking suggestions at [Work email address]. If you’re sending a written description, be detailed. For those with artistic bones, I’m leaving links to some templates here. Memes are welcome. As always, I am reserving the right to discard any entries with no reason given. The winner gets two VIP tickets to an AGP of their choice on my dime (the rest of this or the entire 2095 season).
[Download link: 2D helmet template] [Download link: 3D helmet template]
But wait… There’s more!
Still on the team’s home race note, we’ll be running a demo of the Fans First team workshop. Thursday to Saturday, you’ll be able to take part in a rough draft of some of the planned activities and give feedback on how it works and how we can make it better. Looking forward to seeing you there!
Anyone who beats one of my times in the sim gets one item of their choice from the team’s merch store for free.”
UrbanMaverick: Can we PLEASE get a stream of the rejected designs? I need to see the chaos. MadBea: If anyone puts the Falklands on the bucket, I swear… Shel1: Wonder what parts of the Fans First thing they’ll be testing. ForzaGl0ria: Think they’ll go topical for Hawaii and include the ‘overnight rebuild challenge?’ MadBea: Chassis Fix activity won’t be included, props aren’t done yet. Also, ouch. 😛 User420: My guy, it’s on the fucking website… _PsychoFish_: Back out of the depths of hell and where you belong, let’s goooo! DadManWalking: The midfield didn’t deserve that fire this year, dude. Richie: León told her ‘No le Mans.’ after Hawaii’s qualy and homegirl chose to defy thermomechanics to get that overturned. Hotstuff: or maybe that’s where the ship was supposed to be and Villarosa’s just dogshit Briat77: Dogshit’s what you’re posting. Hotstuff: dude, she’s fucking sleeping Zero: She hasn’t been confirmed yet. Not getting Jen or Max unfortunately, but there’s still talent out there. GalwayGirl: You can’t put Bea and Jen in one team, that would either be a friendship destroyer or a permanent chill session. 😀 GaryFromIndiana: Ward-Neves 2095. The dream is still alive! Laugh_Ness: yea, she’s a pay driver this season, but if she’s nae getting kickbacks from the PR department, she’s getting mugged. 😀 MadBea: Marketing Department? Never heard of her. Cats4Life: ‘Beat my sim time and get a free thing’ my sleep schedule didn’t need that kinda threat. TruckerTim: Someone grab a life vest and go check on Ava.
Monday September 6th, 2094, 20:11 London, GB
Richmond, Lauderdale Drive
An argument was occurring in Bea’s living room, the movie on screen forgotten in the heat of the moment. ”No way!” Bea shook her head in disbelief. ”That’s simply how it is.” Fred held his ground. ”Absolutely not.” ”Why is it so hard to believe?” ”I think you lost your mind. Hand over the company to Eva, you need a minder.” ”Well what would you have chosen?” ”Anything but the gunship takedown?!” She asked like it was the obvious answer. ”What’s wrong with it?” ”There are so many more impressive stunts in Raven Squad! The observatory collapse, The Singapore skydive, the convoy scene on Reunion…” She counted on her fingers. ”Yes, from a stunt standpoint they are more impressive, but look at the wow factor of the scene itself. On one hand, jumping off a skyscraper. No big deal, even you can do that.” ”Hey!” Bea laughed as she playfully jabbed her father in the ribs with her elbow. ”On the other, clinging to a helicopter and taking it down with fists. I rest my case.” He finished before changing topics. ”But speaking of Singapore-” ”I think the pace was there, but I just couldn’t keep up.” ”I was going to say that it marks ten to three in finishing position and 2,5 of your points for each one of your teammate’s. Your DNF from a leading position in Cape Town cancels out with her DNF at Luna, so it’s fairly accurate for comparison.” Frederick continued, ”In the last race, you both dropped one place. Difference then seems to be down to the pilot now.” ”Or the fact that it was a track requiring handling and stability, both of which are things I excel at and Ava…” ”Does not?” ”Let’s go with that, yes.” Bea nodded, ”I expect she’ll close the gap a bit at Argentina and Bonneville.” ”You beat her soundly in Tokyo, and the Hawaii result is skewed by the fact you spent your qualifying lap birdwatching.” ”Funny. Let’s see how you handle yourself near that much lava at those speeds.” Bea smiled along with the joke. ”I’d say you and your sister are proof I handle myself just fine near hot things from Hawaii.” ”Oh my God, DAD!” Bea howled half in terror, half in laughter. ”What?” The elder Ward chuckled. ”That alone has to be enough dad XP for a whole level up. That hurt my brain AND my sides.” ”And it’s all your fault. I was happily stoic until you came along. But back to the matter at hand: Two years’ experience over you, knew the team, had the existing fanbase behind her. I have nothing against her as a person, but a good friend doesn’t necessarily make for a good partner. Or did you add the clause to clear a path for the next two years’ championship attempts?” There was definitely pride in his voice - either he raised someone loyal, or he raised someone pragmatic. ”I am starting to think I shot the team in the foot with that clause.” Bea let her head hang over the couch’s back rest, but for a very different reason than he thought. ”Then again, she hasn’t signed it yet, so maybe that problem will sort itself out.” ”Something the matter?” He immediately picked up on the shift in mood. Having himself been infected by his younger daughter’s manic energy, any dip in hers was easy to see. There was a long stretch of silence. ”I suspect I’ll know next week.”
DELTΔ HYPER
Episode 13: Under Spotlights
”Bea, it seems like at the start of the season, your hopes were low at the bottom of the midfield pack, but now you seem closer to the podium each week than ever before. What do you think you need to work on to get that final third, especially at the very top level?”
”As much as I hate to admit it: patience, honestly.” Bea laughed, ”In hindsight, I knew risking the closed radiator would cost me in the long run, I did it anyway for the immediate benefit, it still didn’t work, Harrison made it through and it came back to bite me because I couldn’t hold Amy at all. Could I have held Amy? I don’t know, maybe. I think I could have, but not with engine temps redlining across the board.” She shared, the claim actually sounding like genuine belief rather than wishful thinking.
”Do you think you could explain to our viewers what the difference is like?”
”I feel like I’ve answered this question before, honestly. When you interviewed me and León.” Bea shrugged, ”It’s just more expectation, more pressure, although that four-year contract definitely helps.” She grinned, a figurative safety net beneath her meaning she didn’t have to start sweating if she made a mistake like at Hawaii. ”Before, if we did well, amazing. If we were P15?” She shrugged theatrically, a nonverbal ‘who cares?’ ”Now, being out of the points is a cockup. But that’s it. In a different series, in my debut year, I was fighting for the win. Fighting for constructor’s P5 on debut, outsourcing an experienced teammate more than two to one? Pressure? Pffft, what pressure? We’ll be in that fight next year, and we have two years to make history before the regulations change. And who knows, with Felix on board, we might even get those right.” They had a literal rocket ship now, and had it started out that way there would be no excuse for not fighting for both championships. But picking up steam partway through the season, they had a gap to cover. ”Back in the present, we’re going home for the next round, the team’s home race. You can see the circuit from our facilities, it suits our ship, we know it well and we’ll have a lot of support out there, so we’re feeling confident. ¡Ven a mostrar tu apoyo!” She finished with a genuine smile, having had time to practice that one due to the delayed interview to give her Spanish lessons a leg up.
Monday September 13th, 2094, 14:31 Buenos Aires, Argentina
”The Ranch” (Carrera Condor Formula AG Team headquarters)
Sitting up from the exercise bike, Ava panted and exhaled out, looking out across to Bea, who was now starting to actually catch up and give her a good run. Peeling out of the projected Andean mountain road that they’d been inside of, the Chilean could feel the lactic acid burn in her core, and even as it dissipated quicker through a load of pre-workout and pre-race creatine derivative, constantly keeping her VO2 max running at this point with her lungs that felt like they were being pumped beyond just anything she could do, was a burn.
Adapting the human body, even with prosthetics, artificial hearts, and changes to arteries and capillaries, didn’t make it any less intense when it was a cardio day, and as the Chilean stepped into her painted legs, the beautiful blue and red contrasting against the pale grey / black of Ava’s tights and adapting thermal top, the taller Chilean
"Fuck. You’re actually keeping up." Ava had tried to get words out of Bea lately, but with the physios pinging the data across to the screen of the exercise bike, Ava transferred it to her own phone, a thumbs up given as if for a moment they wanted to leave the pair to chat, whilst they parsed the data- putting them together being the best place to at least see how they were comparing and dealing with fatigue, especially on different programmes. Bea was a lot quieter around her lately. On edge, up and down. The very little that they had even seen each other.
In a numbers business, marginal gains counted, and the teams did not care about the lives of the pilots, only that they hit the thresholds needed to last a race and not burn up. Ava may not have been fast, but a lifetime of pulling hard Gs had not stopped her from keeping that level.
Bea was glad to be done with the cardio session. That was nothing new, now she just had a second reason to because the movie she picked for the session was awful. She put the earbuds away, heading over to the locker holding her ‘civvie’ limbs - having a racing set had the unforeseen benefit of giving her something to do other than stand there awkwardly while her teammate stretched their meat limbs like she did in the Junior series and even to a certain extent with Ava.
‘You’re not.’ Bea swallowed the first remark that came to mind, taking a drink to give herself some time to compose an answer. ”It’s the lungs. It’s a lot easier now that breathing doesn’t hurt.” She shrugged, not looking up from her own data despite only understanding maybe 80% of it.
Ava shrugged, herself downing a lot of electrolytes, feeling that Bea was being polite, but something was up. Something since at least Belgium. Maybe sooner? She couldn’t tell. But Singapore, it was like the last week nothing had come through. They hadn’t messaged, caught up, done anything. Was the envy kicking in that Jen was now at Silver Apex, and she was rethinking that Carrera wasn’t going anywhere with Ava’s own performance? Or just something else in her mind? Ava had to admit, she didn’t want to bridge it. Not really, not since that Qualifying session, but moments like these at least let her tap in a little. She wasn’t all warm and cuddly, there was still a standoff, that voice like a rock contacting granite at times, given half her range was lost from just yelling at people in the Air Force.
"Understandable. Liquids don’t compress well." The Chilean replied, bottle back down as she grabbed a Carrera branded jacket, taking on a weird oil slick pattern, doing something weird with that rainbow effect that came with the Wiphala- a design that the team had started pushing as part of the South American leg of the championship, but also, spares always fell into the team’s possession.
"Got marketing work coming up this week for PolarVault. Didn’t think I would be on the face of a campaign since….well, yeah, Repsol a few years ago. Marketing to some boomers." Ava tried to make conversation and break the ice a little, realising it wasn’t doing very much. She zipped up the jacket, the weather outside more like the Southern Hemisphere spring, the wind particularly biting today as they walked out.
"You're definitely sure you’re alright, Bea? Like I know you told me about the contract decision, and it hasn’t yet landed on my side. Even if it is imminent. Don’t feel shitty about it." Ava remarked, guessing Bea might have gotten cold feet over that aspect- her getting a contract, and Ava, seemingly nothing.
”I meant the biopolymer doesn’t get dehydrated. Yeah, yeah, I still can’t breathe right, laugh it up.” She clarified as she threw her own piece of defective team merch over her shoulders, tone flat in contrast to the joke.
”Guess abuelita doesn’t want to risk plastering my mug over Argentinian streets just yet. You’re on your own with this one. Heard TAC also want something for Brazil.” Bea shared her suspicion, a minority of Argentinian fans still rabid despite the general improvement in reception over the season, turning to look at her teammate for the first time during this interaction when the contract was mentioned. A brief look of ’How does she know?’ before Ava continued. ”Why would I feel down about it? I got a contract I didn’t dare dream of three months ago, I’m on cloud-bloody-nine.” The brit raised an eyebrow, seemingly confused by Ava’s thought process. ”And with a team that’s actually going somewhere, too.”
Bea’s comment gave Ava a little bit of hope, as she cracked a little bit, walking out as they headed across towards the other office buildings, back to where they had a bit of admin to do. But even so….it felt strange. "Like, something is up, that’s what I’m saying. I know we’re good….and I know I didn’t put it well. But when Amy lashed out, you looked really, really scared. I know I said at the time not to worry, but….it’s hard to get a read on you lately, you just seem a bit distant. You’re not like this normally." Ava broke the ice with that, knowing she may as well be direct if she was coming back like that.
”Nope. Nothing’s up. You said it’s nothing to worry about, didn’t you?” Bea shrugged, so passively aggressive it wasn’t just blurring the line between ‘passive’ and ‘active,’ it picked the line up and stowed it away. As terrifying as the thought of even a fraction of what Amy said and has shown her being true was, figuring out who and what to trust was even worse. And frankly, Ava was very low on that list at the moment. So let it be petty spite until something breaks. As far as Bea was concerned, it was on the secret-keeper to earn trust back, not the deceived to soothe the feeling of being shut out.
And if what she feared came to be? The rest of the season would be pretty damn awkward.
Bea was keeping tight, getting closed. And Ava knew as horrid as she was to break the ice, she may as well do it here and now. The season being awkward was one thing. But the bits she’d held back from Bea, for her own good, felt like they were coming out inevitably.
They walked back inside, into the late afternoon office, almost all emptied as the other staff had finished up for the day. "Alright, then don’t be so fucking passive aggressive about it. Look…." Ava added, turning and sighing, "Something is bugging you. And you told me to go to Kais back then, like…..that wasn’t fair, Bea. That shit is personal between me and him, and I don’t want you involved. So what is it? You something more is going on? Say it." Ava breached it bluntly, a truth, an open fact, but no doubt, maybe not the best thing to say in that moment….
”Struck a nerve, have I?” Bea crossed her arms, ”Maybe it wasn’t fair, maybe it was. I don’t know, that’s the problem. I’ll happily let you explain it to me.” She tried to turn the situation around, ”I’m all ears if you have something to say.”
"Fine." Ava turned, sighing as they stood in the corridor, halted before they could even make it nay further in. "He’s a former supersoldier. The kind of people they sent in when they wanted to make a statement. And….well, there was this one time in Peru, I’m sure either him, or his friends made a dent in a mine, with a lot of innocent people back at end of the Water Wars. Something I saw through a surveillance pod. Messy affair. . It’s not like Raven Squad. Shit like this hurts innocent people. And that never got looked at." Ava’s usually military-like confidence changed, almost patronising in that moment, altered almost, as she leant against the wall, sighing. "And I hoped he would have answers. And for his own sake, too, because it seems like half the grid’s manufacturers seems to be crawling with some influence on neural links these days. Better I find out first to see how deep it goes. I mean, why do you think a supersoldier is in AG, in his mid thirties? Shit like that stays with me. And while it probably isn’t him, I guess I wanted answers. That’s all." Ava simply uttered, almost deep in her own self, sighing. "Look, forget about it. It’s between us."
”I know what a fucking war is, Ava.” Bea snapped back, more to buy a second to think because what Ava was saying was not at all what she expected. Frankly, she was surprised she was talking at all. Yet somehow, she was having a hard time believing Ava was actively throwing away her job to play James Bond. ”What’s a former air force pilot doing on the grid? Or a street racer?”
"Takes all sorts." Ava chirped back, and shrugged, knowing Bea had her there.
”But the supersoldier happens to be the one weird to you. And what does any of this have to do with ‘Apex pushing pilots, taking on silly mods,’ ‘Amy coming from Zygon’ and them being someone ‘who’d do something like this’? ‘Find what you need to. But watch your back... If this goes into the wrong hands, we are screwed.’?” Bea had to rack her brain in order to remember the conversation Amy showed her, sweeping Ava’s own words from the hidden Monaco conversation into her face. ”So who are you lying to? Kais, me, yourself, everyone?”
Ava’s face turned a shade of blue that may have looked a bit of the oil slick on her jacket. "The fuck? How the fuck did you hear that? You were downstairs….unless….no." Ava retorted, shaking her head, the thoughts already pulsing through. "I did it for your own good. Because you don’t want to be tangled in this. Not because I fucking thought I couldn’t trust you as a friend. There’s more politics behind the scenes and shit going on that you aren’t seeing, and you think all of a sudden you want in? Though…..you sure you aren’t involved? Is Amy inside there, pulling on your strings too?" Ava’s look turned to iron, as she squared up. "What’s going on with you?" Ava asked, a brutal, blunt question, the ice beginning to melt, if not shatter entirely.
”What’s going on with me?” Bea did not back down, a chihuahua barking at a doberman. ”Layla’s fucking braindead, lobotomized by her own ship, Amy’s saying her link’s fucked and all the while my own damn teammate clearly knows something if your reaction at the dinner is anything to go by, and isn’t saying shit. Sounds to me like we’re all fucking involved, know it or not. Who’s next on the chopping block?”
"I don’t fucking know, you fucking tell me!" Ava screamed, yelling out, at this point, absolutely turning from red to blue. "Fuck off, how do you know that about Layla, especially after it all? You got a man on the inside at Al-Saqr too? Or you found a way inside other people’s fucking minds?" Ava snarled, like fire was about to be spat from her hoarse voice.
Bea took a step back from Ava, the fury briefly replaced by genuine surprise. ”You actually didn’t know, did you?” Bea let that statement hang in the air for a second, ”He didn’t tell you? Sucks, doesn’t it? Being kept in the dark by someone you trust.”
Ava’s mouth turned, almost to foam, as she came out with what anyone could hurl at a 20 year old, the Chilean not playing anymore. "Oh, fucking grow up, Bea. Though….if she’s gone, join the dots, maybe think your new friend has something to do with it? You think I’m hiding this from you because I want to? Then tell me, if you know so much of what’s going on in my head, why aren’t you getting my answer already? Because if Kais didn’t tell me, yeah, fuck you, he’s just the same, under pressure, and about to join her if you don’t! And oh, if you tell me that Amy’s promised you something…." Ava replied, exhaling hard, wanting to walk away, leave this and let her calm down, but far too in debt now Layla was in. She was thinking about Layla plenty, the unresponded messages, everything else. "Shit. She was good people. If that’s true. Remind me again who contacted Silver Apex after Auckland?"
”Maybe when the ship starts wiping my brain, I’ll be more agreeable to you. And maybe when it starts doing it to you, you’ll learn some fucking humanity.” Bea said quietly, beyond yelling. As if Ava wasn’t worth the effort to raise her voice anymore. Equal parts disdain, dejection and terror at full display. ”I fucking wish she’d promised me something. Or, now that I can’t be blissfully ignorant of this, that I was as spineless of an eel as you seem to think me to be for such an offer to have mattered.”
"Fuck off, Bea. You think this is easy? You think sitting there, without any dirt under your fingernails makes you alone in this? You’ve never had to deal with the weight of a decision in your life. Been kept away from consequences all your life, THAT, is humanity, not that you’d fucking know living as a billionaire’s spoilt brat. Not like the engineers here, or my family, people who dealt with fires 20 years ago, watched everything burn and had to run away from it,no, they wrapped you in cotton wool from responsibility, never worrying about poverty, living in luxury. Oh, or the ones like when Nora ends up losing limbs and I wonder if this is coming for me too like on Luna, because yeah, I’m fucking scared too of interference. And now you have actual shit to deal with, all you know is, lash, lash out! She is fucking with things beyond us, including you, and I want to know why. So yeah, fuck you, because you climbing in people’s heads is the same bullshit! Invading people’s privacy, what the fuck is wrong with you? Gonna do it when I walk away I bet! So yeah, you don’t give a shit about the bigger picture. Just yourself, fuck the rest." Ava went straight for the polymer heart with that one, tapping into that rage, walking past and nudging her on the shoulder, looking back. "I’m fucking leaving at the end of this season. They gave you a cushy contract. Maybe the next rookie that comes along they won’t have to pay so much and will make you look better." Ava simply retorted, out of patience, and finally, at the end of her own self that she never wanted to be.
”I’ve heard that from people who ran out of arguments before. You want to talk about decisions and consequences? How about we talk about you keeping quiet taking away my ability to make a decision here while still leaving me with the consequences, unaware they’re coming?” Bea replied, starting to walk in the opposite direction. ”You can sleep easy though. I’m not the one getting into people’s heads. That sounds like something people fucking with neural links might do though.”
Ava turned in the corridor, hearing it, nearly growling. "Like your new friend, go fucking call her and ask her to read back what I just said if you think she’s so fucking perfect, puta!" Ava yelled, and with it, yelled something Bea hadn’t heard before, putting fist through wall, flesh rather than metal, and leaving a nasty cut on her knuckle as a result, wanting to stay the absolute fuck away from her for the day. Until she calmed down. Or decided to go back to Britain and fucking leave this all behind.
An angry Chilean was not exactly the most rational, anyone who might have overheard that would probably concede that Ava had been fairly good here, but that was angrier than even the time she nearly died on track. It felt like all the goodwill, hope and work the team had put through the dynamic duo had come to a shattering, howling shut. Ava didn’t have any other emotion apart from a burning heat in her head, and no calling of Kais, or anyone was going to fix this. She just had to work it out herself again. No doubt Leon would grill both of them like Asado if it came to it, so Ava did what any good prisoner would do, and kept her trap shut if asked what had happened. But the trust was gone. Whatever there was between them, Ava knew Bea wouldn’t have her back, and the inverse was no doubt true.
Day 1: 21:32:05 Babuskha's House (Oksana's Grandmother) Somewhere outside the village of Pristupin, Libor Province Republic of Polavia
Magazines: Loaded
Borys Skala
”I am not dead set on a city so much as a comfortable place to sleep that is clean, has modern plumbing and a lack of nasty smells.”
“Modern plumbing? So ‘You picked the wrong country, Morgana.’” Borys called over with a laugh, repeating Oksana’s words.
”She'll be fine. She survived eighty years of oppression. They'll get their ears talked off.”
“That doesn’t mean she has to suffer more. Don’t you think she’s been through enough?” Borys countered Oksana’s words, honestly a little bit disgusted with her callousness toward her Babushka.
”You drunk bastard. Can't believe you agreed with me earlier. You really are cased. Seems like you maybe shouldn't gamble though. You need a coffee before your drunk ass falls over. I left hot water and a compress there.”
“What makes you all think I want to be sober in this situation?” Borys asked the second and third person telling him to sober up in the day, taking a swig from the Medilandia to make a point, undercut by how it scrunched his face. “Kurwa, no, this govno is becoming a Molotov.” He set the bottle aside.
Truth be told, he didn’t remember where and why he broke Svetlana’s metal folding stock. The night was too hazy for detail like that. All he remembered was that it broke against someone’s face, and then the armory guy yelling at him. And Ivan and Kazimyr holding him back from breaking something else against the armory guy’s face. Svetlana had gone unreturned to the armory that night, and the next morning, he was unemployed - not for that stunt, strangely. For something stupid he wasn’t even part of.
Same deal with his armor, gas mask and tear gas grenades, the latter two leftover from riot control duties. All simply unreturned, lost in paperwork Hell and walked out with after being fired, because who doesn’t steal in Polavia is robbing their family.
Fourth mug of tea of the night in hand, Borys sat on a stack of haybales for the briefing, almost subconsciously compensating for his height.
“You know what makes these bearable?” He asked when he saw Oksana counting nails in the barn’s roof beams to stave off boredom, miming taking a drink.
“One ward-carrying cop and we’re fucked even with false identities. They know our faces, the forged papers will have to rely on changed appearance to be effective here in the first place.” Borys pointed out a hole in Felix’ plan that he thought saw, probably not helping the shapeshifter’s situation by being yet another voice that interrupted his briefing instead of waiting for him to finish. “Might as well work the underworld connection angle and get smuggled out or take the train as the first option and only use forged papers to disappear once we’re abroad.” Likely in motherfucking Liboli, he thought glumly to himself, almost reaching for the wine at the thought.
”I almost forgot. This is for you. Make it last and Cherish it. I only have one bottle left of the good stuff.”
Taking the bottle from Rowan, Borys pulled the cork out with his teeth and took a sip to sample. He reckoned the whole bottle would last him for maybe two useful inebriations and it was sweet enough to work as a fly trap, but it would do. “You are now my favorite person on the team.” he chuckled, clapping Rowan on the shoulder.
Friday September 3rd, 2094, 15:00 Marina Bay, Singapore
Practice
”That fucking close? Bea, what the...”
”Hey, Queen of Scots, got a sec?” A voice belonging to the source of Cassie’s unfinished ‘What the fuck?’ sounded from the pit lane, ”I‘m sorry about turn five, I underestimated just how much this setup would refuse to rotate. My mistake.”
”Suppose you came to apologise at least. Better than most. And probably not worth penalty points, let's not be children in karts. Unless you try it again. Anyway, back to it, yeah? Go destroy your teammate and don't drown? You seem like one of the nice ones.”
”Right back at you.” Bea was quick to reply to the comment about destroying teammates and agreeability. An apology made and offense forgiven, the usual side of Bea surfaced again. ”And we’re fixing that mess, so don’t worry about repetitions or me drowning, Hawaii was the last freebie you got from me! Call it a late birthday present.” She called back with a shit-eating grin, already backing away as she spied a Zygon goon on approach.
Saturday September 4th, 2094, 22:00 Marina Bay, Singapore
Qualifying
The ship jumped at every twitch of the control stick exactly the way Bea wanted it to, eating the straights and faster corners for breakfast while feeling like a significant improvement over the previous races where stability was required. Through god knows what space magic, the Carrera Condor ship had gone from sharing second to last in the development ratings with SuperCat to sharing second best with Zygon. Freebies from Pridwen were a contributing factor, but although the factory sometimes heard the odd ‘cartel drug money’ joke, a part of Bea wouldn’t have been surprised given the rapid rise were it not for the preceding 15 years of stagnation.
It was also bearing fruit on an unexpected front, as Argentinian accounts that showed nothing but contempt at the start of the season were rapidly turning a new leaf, leading the shitlords among her fanbase to joke about inciting the ‘Argie (Un)Civil War’.
”That’s provisional P1, Bea! Fantastic job.” ”YES! Like driving on rails, woo!” The brit punched the air in celebration. ”The radiator trick was good for one lap, but let’s not push it in the race.” ”That’s our panic button, got it. Great job with the setup, everyone. I feel like there were a few hundredths more I missed.” ”We’ll take it.” Alistair chuckled.
DELTΔ HYPER
Episode 13: Under Spotlights
”Nora, Beatrix, Paul, you three have been rookies all this season and now that you're all here, how do you feel about taking the rest of the places by storm? What a dominant qualifying, do you think you can take on Amy, without taking each other out?”
Bea moved to stand between Paul and Nora, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders’. ”Get used to the sight, we’re not going anywhere.” She grinned, ”Out with the old, in with the new.”
Bea Ward @MadBea: "@CN:Zygon Told you the freebies are over. 😛”
CN:Zygon: The weekend is still young. MadBea: Promise? GalwayGirl: Once again, the English are provoking the Scots. [Video link] 😀 Mate0: Oh, shit, she’s getting cocky. VSC on standby! Sol_de_Mayo: She’ll stay 4th. This isn’t Spa, Paul’s got the ship advantage here. Zero: P1 to P7 will be absolutely wild this race. SmolNjol: You’re forgetting Dorian in P8. Zero: Nah, just expecting Astrid to fall. SmolNjol: Comparable critical stats as CC, speed isn’t that useful here. Zero: Except talent and ship control. Astrid’s already caused two race-defining collisions this season. Crossfit_Crusader: And sobriety. TruckerTim: First it’s the English and the Scots, now the English and the Vikings are getting into it. We’re feeling historical this week. User420: Any more historical and CC will pull up with missiles on their ship.
Saturday September 4th, 2094, 23:15 Marina Bay, Singapore
Post-Qualifying
”Aaaaah! Turn 14, wasn’t it?” Bea facepalmed as they watched Paul, Nora and Amy pip her in the standings, Paul by what felt like half a toothpick. ”We think so, yes. Poor exit also compromised 15.” ”There’s that extra time I mentioned, damn it.” Bea sighed, ”What setup is Ava running?” ”Yours.” ”By request or order?” ”Everything she tried in practice was slower than yours.” Alistair explained. ”But some of her practice times were faster than her qualifying.” Bea countered. ”Rey said she lost time in the middle of Sector Two. Almost three tenths of a second.” ”They gave her my setup and are surprised she slides around in rapid-fire corners?” A mix of surprise and disappointment at the oversight in both voice and posture. ”You may still think of her as the benchmark, but see it or not, you’re becoming the number one here.” Alistair shrugged. ”But it still doesn’t make sense to give her a setup tailored for a different driving style.” ”It was a last-minute hail mary. They didn’t have time to put it back.” Al shrugged, ”Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith in this sport.” ”Don’t always land those with Felix in your arms I guess.” Bea chuckled, ”Maybe let’s leave leaps of faith to León and stick to slow and steady with Ava?” ”Maybe. Go get some sleep, we start at 11.” ”Good night.” She bode the whole garage well, gathering up her things and heading out, being intercepted by Ava right out of the door.
”Bea! You okay? Like, we're on top of it all, P4 in that standing....and you seem all out of it?”
”I’m alright. Just spent.” Bea sighed, slightly extending her steps so she and Ava could walk side by side without the latter having to almost walk heel to toe, ”I burned up my reserves for today in the fan zone before qualifying. Normally that’s my second wind, but it’s hard to be upbeat all the time when taking your shirt off at the end of the day is a 30 second endeavor.” She tugged at the sweat-soaked fabric to drive the point home.
”Look, if it's about Amy....and the op and everything, look, don't be worried about it. I'm sure it isn't anything serious. She's doing this to wind you up.”
”So first ‘Something is up.’ and now ‘It isn’t anything serious.’? Been pretty secretive about a whole lot of ‘nothing’.” Bea’s exhausted tone morphed into scorn and distrust. ”I’m sure Layla thought it wasn’t anything serious either, and look where she is.” Bea turned abruptly, walking through a gap between two trailers, trying to end the conversation by putting something between the two pilots. ”You’re slow in sector two. Why don’t you go talk to Kais about it?”
Ava > You ok? Talk later when we get a chance. Maybe tomorrow. Something is up.
[Seen]
Friday September 3rd, 2094, 15:00 Marina Bay, Singapore
Practice
Bea hooked her suit up to the portable circulation unit and climbed out of the cockpit after the first practice run, aided out of the seat and down the steps by a mechanic. ”Ava says more oversteer is needed, thoughts?” Alistair shared the suggestion from the other side of the garage. ”It would make it more manageable, we’re ploughing hard here, but no. More turn-in, not more oversteer. He doesn’t want to rotate at first, but coming out of the turn he’s like glued, that part’s good.” She shared her view, now on her third chassis bearing her father’s name on the side, ‘Evangeline’ demoted to backup after the crash at Hawaii to give her a proper check. “Want out of the suit in the meantime?” Larry, the liquid breathing tech, asked. ”No.” Bea shook her head inside the fishbowl after a bit of deliberation to the surprise of many in the garage, slinging the circulation unit over her shoulder. Despite her complaints about the taste of the stuff, the breathing liquid was still preferable to the air outside. First and foremost though, the circulation unit could keep the liquid at a comfortable temperature even out of the ship, meaning she wasn’t sweating like a necrophile in a morgue unlike everyone else in the garage. ”That bad, huh?” Alistair chuckled, completely understanding given that his shirt had stuck to him like a second skin. ”Why do people choose to live here? It’s the gilded cage of Hawaii combined with the climate of Cape Town, but worse.” ”We might need to find a compromise between entry and exit. Your reaction times were also off the mark in the first half of the run.” The race engineer turned the conversation back to the task at hand. ”I didn’t sleep last night. Something I ate disagreed with me.” Bea lied, having stayed up to six in the morning with Lúcio, combing over the neural logs in minute detail after explaining a simplified version of why she was asking that of him. ”Turned the liquid temp down a few degrees, that woke me up.” ”Have you seen a doctor about it?” ”It cleared up by the morning, I’m fine.” ”Keep an eye out on it. You can’t just tough things out on a race weekend.” Al scolded her. ”How much time are we losing because we’re running with the radiator full open all the time?” ”Two thousandths a lap, but we’re not sure the ship could handle a race with closed flaps.” ”Can we close them for overtakes or corners, like a mini push-to-pass?” ”We can try on the next run, see how much heat debt it’ll build up and how distracting it will be.” Alistair nodded, ”You’re going back out in two minutes.” ”Two minutes.” Bea confirmed with a nod and two fingers and darted out of the garage to apologize to Cassie for nearly running into her, having underestimated the ship’s understeer.
DELTΔ HYPER
Episode 13: Under Spotlights
”With the humidity, how are you feeling?”
Cut to Bea, head hanging back over the couch’s backrest. ”Uuuuugh. My kingdom for not having to be here.” She sat up straight, team hat and hair drenched in cold water to minimal effect. ”Imagine my surprise when I went into practice, the suit got flooded and I could hardly feel a difference in the effort required to get a lungful in or out.” She exaggerated a bit, but the spirit of it was true.
RPM,
vue2026,
Forsythe,
PrinceAlexus,
adncod,
Plank Sinatra,
abcbcb,
FourtyTwo,
Ultrasonic16,
parkour
