Authors: Matthew Reilly
Hover Car Racer (29 page)
THE CHALLENGER RACE (TUESDAY) 15 MINS TO RACE START
The start-gates stretched across Fifth Avenue. Like School races, the Challenger Race didn’t have a pole position shootout. It gave everyone an equal start.
Cars entered their gates from behind, getting ready to race.
Jason eyed the other racers - the best from their respective leagues, regions and schools.
Markos Christos - from Greece, in his car, the
Arion,
numbered 12 in honour of the twelve labours of Hercules. Christos was the first-placed driver in the European Satellite League, a sub-division of the International Pro Circuit.
Edwardo - from the Central & South American Race School in Brazil. Like Xavier, he had won his School Championship, and from that, a pro contract with the low-level Castoldi Team. Since the CSA Race School wasn’t as highly regarded as the International Race School, it had only been given two invitations to the Challenger Race.
Praveen Chandra, from the intense Indian Race School. Zhang Lao, the third-placed driver from the Russo-Chinese League - a gun pilot from the Chinese Air Force, his fighter-shaped car, the
Chun-T’I
, was numbered 8, since the Chinese believe eight to be the luckiest number of all.
And, most fearsome of all, the two top-placed drivers from the Russo-Chinese League: the Russian twins, Igor and Vladimir Krotsky. In their sleek, identical Mig-90s, the
Red Devil I
and
Red Devil II
, Igor and Vlad had been responsible for no less than sixteen crashes in their League races, none of which had injured them, and one of which had been fatal. But then the Russo-Chinese League was known for its rough racing.
But the name on everyone’s lips was Xavier Xonora.
He was the hot favourite to win with the bookmakers - his exceptional fourth placing in the Italian Run had made a huge impact. And word had spread of his dominance at the International Race School.
In total, there were 30 racers in the Challenger Race - talented young drivers from all over the globe, every single one of them knowing that victory here could change their lives.
Standing behind the line of start-gates, Jason was just stepping into the
Argonaut
when someone arrived at his car.
Xavier. Dressed in his black racesuit and holding his helmet.
And standing with him - just for psychological effect, Jason figured - was Dido.
‘Just thought I would swing by and share with you an interesting statistic I’ve only just discovered, Mr Chaser,’ Xavier said.
‘And what’s that?’
Xavier smiled meanly. ‘Only on one occasion, when we’ve both raced, have you actually
won the race
. And that was way back in Race 25. And today, there’s no prize for second place. Only the winner gets the exemption invitation to the Masters Series. And based on the statistics, when we race,
I don’t often come second
.’ Xavier turned to go. ‘Just thought you should know.’
‘Thanks,’ Jason said. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
In truth, Jason had been thinking a lot about Xavier.
He knew full well his head-to-head record against the Black Prince: with the exception of Races 25 and 50 (and Xavier’s lazy effort in Race 49 which didn’t count), whenever they’d raced, Xavier had beaten him.
The simple fact of the matter was that Jason just couldn’t overtake Xavier.
It had only been an outrageous move in Race 50 - whipping through all three sets of Clashing Bergs - that had got him past Xavier then.
And so, this past week, Jason and his team had been working on strategies to get by the
Speed Razor
.
They’d watched the video-discs of all the televised races Xavier had been in, both at Race School and outside it. They’d analysed his pit stops, and how his pit crew behaved during races.
And their conclusion: Xavier was the perfect racer. His defensive techniques were impenetrable; and his crewwork all-but flawless. Indeed, his Mech Chief, Oliver Koch, was so good, not only did he provide lightning-fast stops, he also kept Xavier appraised - on every lap - as to how far he was ahead of his rivals, and whether he was extending his lead, or whether they were gaining on him.
It was the total package.
‘He’s too good,’ Sally had said as they’d sat in front of the television the night before, watching Xavier’s finish in the Italian Run: the
Speed Razor
whipped across the Finish Line, Xavier punching a fist into the air. ‘I can’t find a single chink in his armour.’
The Bug said something as well.
‘
Nobody’s
perfect, Bug,’ Jason said, staring closely at the TV. ‘Hey. Sally. Can you bring me the video-disc of the Sponsors’ Tournament?’
Sally brought the disc, and they watched it. Watched Xavier cross the Finish Line ahead of his opponents, including Jason in the Final. Every time he crossed the line, Xavier did the same thing: he punched his fist into the air.
Sally shrugged. ‘I think the pattern’s pretty clear, Jason. Xavier races. Xavier wins.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Jason said quietly. Then abruptly his eyes lit up. ‘Sally. Race 25. The race where I beat him. Is there any tape of that one?’
‘No,’ Sally said. ‘It wasn’t recorded.’
‘But it
was
a photo finish. Do we have a copy of the photo?’
Sally shrugged. ‘Sure. I have it here somewhere.’ She grabbed her race file and pulled a photo from it, handed it to Jason.
Jason examined the photo closely.
And he smiled.
Both Sally and the Bug saw his lips curl upward.
‘What have you found?’ Sally asked.
Jason stared at the photo intently. ‘Xavier’s weakness.’
‘And what exactly is that?’
Jason turned to face her. ‘Xavier
thinks
he’s a great racer.’
CHAPTER THREETHE CHALLENGER RACE LAP: 13 OF 30
The Challenger Race was run at a blistering pace - if you took a turn an inch too wide, you were overtaken by the car behind you. If you missed a turn by a few metres,
three
drivers would shoot past you.
You also had to take into account the constantly-falling rain of confetti in the city sections of the course - it made the air misty, cloudy, affecting visibility. The bullet-paced cars left spiralling snow-trails of the shredded paper in their wakes.
The Challenger course was a super-tight track that twisted and turned through Greater New York - from the home straight on Fifth Avenue, out to JFK International Airport via Brooklyn, and then back to Manhattan via Queens, the Bronx and Yankee Stadium. The intricacy of the course made it especially tough on magneto-drives - each racer would require no less than five pit stops over thirty relatively short laps.
Right out of the gates, two drivers had zoomed out to the front.
Xavier and Jason.
Xavier had gone straight into the lead. Jason had tucked in close behind him.
A larger chase pack of ten racers loomed behind them - with Ariel and Varishna Krishna embedded in it.
Then, on the third lap of the race, as the chase pack came roaring down the home straight, the nasty Russian twins, Igor and Vlad Krotsky, claimed their first victim: the Indian racer, Chandra.
The result was catastrophic.
In fact, it would go down as one of the most spectacular chain-reaction crashes in recent hover car racing history.
Chandra had been leading the chase pack, and the Krotskys, in an attempt to push past him, had squeezed Chandra from either side, one hitting him on the front left side, the other pushing on Chandra’s rear right flank, forcing him into a sideways lateral skid.
The problem was, Chandra - intent on winning this vital race - didn’t give in.
And he made his biggest mistake. He powered up… and flipped…turning his car fully sideways into the wind and as such, he lost speed instantly -
Bam!
Bam!
Bam!
The next three racers slammed into him - at full speed.
Carnage.
Hover cars flew every which way across Fifth Avenue. Chandra’s car hit the ground hard, crumpled against the asphalt - then Zhang Lao careered straight into it. Ejection. Explosion.
Varishna Krishna came next. Boxed in by two other racers, there was no way he could avoid the ugly pile of
metal that was Chandra’s and Lao’s cars. He and his navigator ejected a nanosecond before the
Calcutta-IV
hit
the pile and it too became shrapnel.
The fourth and last car to hit the pile was Markos Christos’s
Arion
. It banked to avoid the pile, but clipped it
with its left wing, snapping the wing clean off - which caused the Greek racer to lose all control and shoom at
right angles right across Fifth Avenue and take out three more racers!
It was only the magnetic Dead Zone protecting the nearest building that stopped them all from smashing right through its windows.
The four cars hit the Dead Zone, stopped, then fell, dropping like shot birds down to the roadway.
The end result of this great conflagration was twofold. First: the crash left two high piles of battered and
crumpled hover cars on either side of Fifth Avenue,
creating a kind of gateway between them, a gateway big enough for only one car to fit through at a time.
And second: it left Xavier Xonora and Jason Chaser well clear of the rest of the field.
The New York Challenger Race, winner take all, was now a two-horse race.
THE CHALLENGER RACE LAP: 18 OF 30
Xavier and Jason.
Out in front.
On their own.
Engaged in the race of their lives.
Left and right, they weaved, through the city section of the track. Then blasting out through the streets of Brooklyn, before shooting up and down the runways at JFK, slowing dramatically at the ultra-sharp hairpins there.
And all the while, Xavier drove perfectly, never once giving Jason a chance to get past him.
Jason hung in there, only a few car lengths behind the
Speed Razor
.
On each lap, he actually
gained
on Xavier in the supertight city section of the course just before the home straight - banking left and right in the confetti-filled canyons of New York City - but in the straight-line sections of the track, Xavier would power away from him, cancelling out the gains Jason had made.
The situation was all too familiar.
No matter what he tried, Jason just couldn’t get past the Black Prince. He was half a second behind Xavier, but it might as well have been half an hour.
Lap 20 went by, and still Xavier remained in front.
Lap 25 - and Jason was still on his tail.
He’s just too good!
Jason’s mind screamed.
Too good! But that’s also his weakness: he thinks he’s too damned good
.
‘Sally!’ Jason called into his radio. ‘Time to start the plan! You ready?’
‘
You’re absolutely crazy, Superstar
,’ came the reply, ‘
which is why I love you so much. Let’s dance.
’
Jason flew around the next lap - Lap 26 - like a bullet, hanging onto Xavier’s tail, but if anything, compared to his previous laps, it looked like Jason had actually lost ground to Xavier.
He had.
‘
Okay!
‘ Sally called. ‘
You just lost a second to Xavier on that lap!
’
‘One second is okay,’ Jason said grimly. ‘I hope Oliver Koch noticed.’
Lap 27 - and Jason lost more ground to Xavier.
‘
Another half second…
‘ Sally called. ‘
He’s pulling away from you!
’
It was true. Xavier was pulling away from him - even the crowd could see it now.
But that was part of the plan. It could only work if Xavier
thought
he was pulling away from Jason.
And with only three laps remaining, the race looked over.
It was Xavier out in front.
Then Jason.
Then daylight, thanks to the big crash, followed by the Russians and Ariel Piper.
Lap 28 - and Xavier was ahead of Jason by two full seconds.