The Blood Racer (The Blood Racer Trilogy Book 1) (16 page)

              “Thanks for your help,” I said, prying open the door to my ship. “But I’ve got to catch someone.”
              The dockworker scrunched his lips together to suppress a grin, but nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’m pulling for you, Elana.”
              I paused halfway through the hatch of the
Kicker
and looked over at him. “You really shouldn’t,” I said honestly.
              Still stifling his grin, he nodded once more. “I know.”
              With nothing further, I dogged the hatch and cranked the metal handle to seal it. Next to me, I could hear Darby firing up her ship as I plopped into the pilot’s chair and strapped in. Not wanting her to leave without me, I cranked up my VTOL turbines, using only the front ones as I mimicked my takeoff from Rainier. Once again, I felt my insides lurch toward my throat as I performed the graceful backflip off of the New Eden docks, plummeting down into the dark sky below. It only took a few seconds before I was able to kill the turbines, power up my main engine, and climb back up to twelve thousand feet with Darby. Together, we pointed our ships north. According to Killian, that was where Audra had gone. At the moment, she was far enough ahead that I couldn’t see her lights, but if we were lucky, we might be able to catch a tailwind and make up some time.
              Darby and I had been so busy worrying about Audra that neither of us had bothered to read the clue that Willow Timbre had given us. Leaning back in my chair, I reached into the pocket of my pinstriped slacks and retrieved the envelope she had given me. I made sure my yoke was steady, and quickly tore it open.
              Immediately, a small, metal key fell out onto my lap. I picked it up and looked it over, hoping I would somehow miraculously be able to tell what lock it belonged to. No joy. Grimacing at it, I tucked it in my pocket and removed the small slip of paper from the envelope. Just like the first clue, it was printed in a clean, decorative font, and had been fashioned into a riddle.
              “If your compass is spinning, you’ve gone too far. Sixty is all you need. Straight due from Eden, to the frozen star, you’ll have one chance to catch what you see.”
              I lowered the clue slowly to my lap. Unlike the first one, I didn’t feel an empty hopelessness inside me. As ridiculous as the riddle was, I felt like parts of it made sense to me. Somewhere in my mind, I knew what it meant. I just needed to piece it together. With an eye on my compass, I centered the needle on due north before turning my focus back to the clue.
              “Compass is spinning…you’ve gone too far.” I spoke slowly and clearly, hoping the words would make a bit more sense out loud. I had never been there, but I had heard that if you went as far as the North Pole, a compass would spin. So I at least knew I was going in the right direction.
              “Sixty is all you need,” I read to myself. “Sixty what?” I chewed my bottom lip, searching my brain for any latent knowledge that might be able to help me. Of course, I found nothing. The frozen star obviously meant Polaris. It was the only star in the night sky that never moved, after all. As a pilot, you learn at a young age how to tell your position of the globe using the stars, and Polaris - or the North Star, as Old Man Nichols called it - was the one that was most crucial to learn. It was one of the things my father had the patience to teach me. I had spent countless nights out on the docks with him, staring up at the stars, learning to identify the different shapes and constellations. Strangely, the thing I remember most was being disappointed that none of the constellations looked anything like their name.
              Eventually, though, I learned how to find most of the useful stars to navigate. Polaris was easy, so was the Big Dipper, and I could always find Orion, because Rigel - the star after which my best friend was named - was a part of it. I leaned forward and looked out my windscreen into the purplish darkness. Peering upward, it took me only a moment to find Orion’s belt, and then Rigel, shining blue and white, down in the corner.
              “Holy foxtrot,” I whispered suddenly, feeling my adrenaline starting to spike. The stars! That was it! That was the clue! Almost wriggling out of my seat with excitement, I bent down to the hidden compartment under my dash. I needed my sextant, the device that enabled me to take determine my position in the air. I needed to find out what latitude I was. That was what “sixty” meant. I needed to follow Polaris, the frozen star, until I reached sixty degrees north latitude. A straight shot from New Eden, whatever this longitude was, and 60 degrees north, and I would find the next clue.
              As I popped open my compartment, the gun that Nichols had given me tumbled out, startling me a little as it fell into my hand. I had honestly forgotten that I’d had it. Luckily, with the race about the start, the inspector didn’t have much time to thoroughly check my ship before I pushed off. He probably would have found this, otherwise, and I’d have been disqualified.
              Moving it aside, I dug deeper in to the compartment, but I found no sextant. Where was it? Had I taken it out at some point and forgotten to return it? I rarely ever had need of the thing, really. My instruments always worked fine, so I practically never used it. Now, the one time I sorely needed it, I didn’t have it. If I had planned ahead, I would have made sure it had been aboard, along with some food, water, and spare clothes.
              I wanted to curse loudly and punch something, but my mind was already working on a backup plan. “Your fist is ten degrees,” I said to myself, quoting something my father had once told me. Fortunately for me, it was easy to remember. If you held your hand out to the horizon and made a flat fist, the amount of sky your hand covered was roughly equal to ten degrees of latitude.
              Jostling in my seat, I found Polaris ahead of me and held out my fist, resting my knuckles against the cool plane of glass in front of me so that, in my eyeline, the bottom of it rested on the horizon. Starting from there, I worked my way up, counting the times I had to move my fist. The final number was four. Forty degrees, give or take. I took a moment to do the math in my head and groaned. I was roughly two thousand clicks from my destination. Maybe a little more. That would be about seven hours of flight time. I sighed and lowered my fist. It was going to be a long night.
              Taking hold of my yoke, I flicked my forward lights on and off while rocking my wings back and forth, trying to get Darby’s attention. We were flying very close together, but I still had to squint to see in her window. Thankfully, she turned on her interior light to make it easier. I did the same, and held up the envelope that had contained the clue. Not knowing exactly how to tell her that I had solved it, I just pointed at the envelope, then at myself, then gave a thumbs-up signal.
              I smiled as I saw her nod. She held up her hand and pointed out in front of us. Right away, I could tell that she was pointing up at Polaris, and I gave her a grin-and-exaggerated-nod combo. She had worked out the clue, too. I gave her a final wave and switched off my interior light, and she blew me a kiss before going dark. I was bolstered by the fact that she had come to the same conclusion as I had. We were on the right path. Audra was still nowhere in sight, but we would surely make up some time.
            For the first time since the race began, I felt hopeful.

              The night dragged on forever.
              More than a few times, I felt my head lolling backward or to the side. I would always snap back awake, panicking for just a moment before I could realize that I hadn’t been fully asleep. I was forced to get out of my chair and walk around my cargo area a dozen times. Probably more, really. I was so exhausted. I still didn’t have anything to eat or drink, nothing to give me any energy. Darby’s jam tarts had long since worn off, and my body just wanted to shut down. A few times, I debated tying a rope around my yoke to steady it, letting it fly itself while I took a nap. Unfortunately, my clearer thoughts always prevailed. I couldn’t just leave the stick. Not for more than a few minutes at a time. Any gust of wind would blow me off course, and I’d wake up at the North Pole, shivering and freezing.
              I envied Darby. The
Foxfire
had pontoons. She would never have to worry about catching a down draft and going nose-first into the Veil. She’d stay aloft no matter what. She probably could get away with napping, if she wanted to.
              About five hours into the leg, I was desperate to stay awake. I tried some aerial acrobatics to get my adrenaline going. I did a few barrel rolls, some zig-zags, and even some steep dives. It helped for a bit, but I had to stop. Darby obviously had no idea what I was doing, and she kept trying to follow me through the maneuvers. She must have thought I was in danger, or that I had seen something. I finally leveled out, giving in to the fact that I was just going to have to slap my own face repeatedly. Looking to pass the time some other way, I reached up for my radio cord and jacked it into my helmet. Maybe some Reed and Lex chatter would perk me up and help me forget about the painful dryness in my throat.
              The first thing I learned was that there had been three deaths on the first leg. Three people had died before even reaching New Eden. I remembered the first two at the start of the race, the ones that had collided into one another. They had nearly taken me with them, after all. Someone else, though, had apparently lost power to their propellers and plummeted beneath the Veil. Someone named Drummond. I sighed. If he entered the race without his ship being at one hundred percent condition, he really shouldn’t have expected anything else.
              What was I saying!? The race was already turning me into a cold monster. Four people had died, just because they wanted a chance at a better life. They just wanted to fly their ships and hopefully win some money, and they had lost everything because of it. How could I just dismiss it with a “oh, they had it coming,” thought? Their families would be feeling the same pain I had once felt. On two different occasions, no less. I shook my head. No, I would not let the race turn me into a callous witch. I would not become Audra Carina.
              Sighing, I tried to tune out my distressing thoughts and listen to Reed and Lex, who were gloating about the fact that they were waiting at a future race destination. They had been sworn to secrecy, apparently, and couldn’t divulge where they were. I just listened to them, hoping I could hear some kind of a clue, some blurb of background noise that might suggest something. Sadly, there was nothing. They signed off just a few minutes after I tuned in. I suppose they needed their rest, too. I removed the radio cord from my helmet. Everybody was sleeping. Every sane person in the Dominion was tucked in bed, snoozing soundly.
              My thoughts went to Zanna and Echo. Were they all right? Were they sleeping peacefully? I hoped they weren’t missing me. I also hoped Nichols had done right by his word and gone to look after them. They liked hearing his stories. Maybe he had told them a story before bedtime. I have no idea why, but that thought nearly brought me to tears. I was so tired and drained, my emotions were suddenly terrorizing me. I just wanted to be home, hugging my brother and sister.
              “Ugh…get it together, Elana,” I ordered myself, blinking away the tears. No one was watching me, but I still felt my face and ears growing hot. I held onto the thoughts of my siblings, though. They helped me pass the last hour of the leg in peace, without falling asleep at the stick.
              After a while, just as my improvised latitude measurements were beginning to worry me, I saw it. Up ahead, there were lights in the darkness, bright red, flashing lights. This was it. This was what we were here for. Those lights were another clue. According to the one from New Eden, there was something we were supposed to catch. Judging from the position of the lights, however, they were not it. They held their position steady, unmoving, and as I drew nearer, I could see that they were attached to a hovering platform.
              I had never seen anything like it. It was a large, flat piece of metal and wood, probably twenty yards squared, with a small hut constructed in the middle of it. As I made my first pass, I saw two men emerge from the hut, illuminated only by the moon and the flashing red lights on the platform’s corners. They were wearing heavy coats and hoods, due to the cold, and they were both carrying large crates in front of them as they walked toward the flat metal edge.
              Both Darby and I circled around the platform, waiting for a signal or a radio transmission, something to tell us what we needed to do. As the men lugged the crates toward the side of the platform, though, I had a terrible icy dread that suddenly formed in my chest. We were here to catch something, after all. I knew that they were going to throw those boxes over the side.
              Immediately, I pushed forward on the yoke and dove downward, feeling my insides rising up into my ribcage. If they were tossing those crates, I needed to get far enough down to catch it. According to the clue, we’d only get one chance to grab them. I had almost no idea just how I was supposed to do that, either.
              Sure enough, I watched above me as the two men waddled over the edge of the hovering platform and flung the boxes right over the side. I was prepared to try and start my turbines, but then small parachutes deployed above the crates, slowing their descent. From the other side of the platform, I saw Darby trying to maneuver her pontoons underneath the platform so she could close in on the clue. She was too busy watching the boxes, though. She was coming straight at me. Letting out a frustrated growl, I stomped on my hydro thruster valve and shot myself out of the way, giving up my spot to prevent her from smashing right into me. Using my desperation as courage, I let off the thrusters and pulled back on the stick as hard as I could. Immediately, the
Kicker
flipped upside down and headed right back in the direction I’d come. Before too much blood could run to my head, I slammed the yoke to the left and rolled my ship until it was upright before I dove down once more.
              Darby had missed her crate. It bounced off her starboard pontoon and got tangled in its own parachute, sending it plummeting into the Veil below. Now, the only way either of us could continue was if I caught the second box. I throttled way down and fired up my turbines, which helped me slow to a stop in the air. With my torso twisted in my seat, I pressed my face against my bitterly cold windscreen and tried to judge the distance from the box to my ship. If was going to catch this thing, I would have to position the
Kicker
perfectly, and then race into the hold and open my roof hatch.
              In front of me, Darby hovered in place, watching me and surely sweating bullets. I kept my eye on the crate that drifted down toward me, gently nudging my VTOL joystick back and forth to get my ship into place. The crate was coming fast, though. Once I was in a satisfactory position, I knew I only had a few seconds to act. Frantically, I unstrapped myself and barreled into the cargo bay, scrambling up the ladder and cranking the latch as fast as I could. As I started to open the hatch, though, I felt a heavy thud slam down on it. The crate had landed right on the hatch, and I could hear it already sliding off the side. With the weight now off the hatch, I threw it open, lurching out into the icy air, and grasped at the cloth parachute, which was the only thing still in my reach.
              I cried out in effort as my fingers closed around it. I could feel my feet threatening to follow me out the hatch, but I held on for all I was worth, hooking the toe of my boot underneath one of the ladder rungs. With an insane amount of exertion, I was able to haul my torso into the ship, and used what strength I had to yank the heavy crate toward me. Using the parachute as a leash, I slowly pulled, hand over hand, until the box was in my grasp. Despite the biting cold, which was chilling me to my core, I was able to summon the dexterity to wrestle the stupid thing into my narrow roof hatch. Unfortunately, I wasn’t strong enough to hold it in my hand, and it crashed to the floor of my cargo bay. I didn’t even care. As long as it was safe inside, and I was alive, I was doing all right.
            Shivering and with teeth chattering, I reached up once more to pull my roof hatch closed and spun the latch, trembling fiercely as I stumbled back up to the pilot’s seat. I powered up my main engine, killed the turbines, and pointed the nose of my ship due south. I wanted to get out of this terrible cold as soon as I could. The interior of the
Kicker
was fairly warm, compared to the outside, but it wasn’t warm enough, all of the sudden.
              “At least you got that stupid crate,” I told myself, rubbing my own arms to get the feeling back in them. I threw on my jacket, which would have been helpful, if I’d thought to wear it outside. I steadily dropped my altitude as I went, hoping that the lower air would be warmer. Though, if it was, I couldn’t really tell. I needed to occupy my mind, to focus on something else besides being cold. Once my wings were steady, I turned back to the crate that lay broken on my cargo hold floor and crept toward it. The lid was cracked in half and was easy to open, but the rest of the box just crumbled in my numb hands. Sighing at the mess, I simply turned my attention to the several items within it.
              The first thing I picked up was a metal canteen. Immediately, I could tell there was liquid inside it. Excitedly, I unscrewed the cap and held the opening to my nose, sniffing it to see if I could tell what it was. I didn’t smell anything, though.
              “Please be water,” I muttered. I hadn’t anything to drink since I emptied Darby’s flask, and that was seven hours ago. Tipping the canteen up, I poured some of the liquid in my mouth. It was definitely water. Cold, crisp, delicious water. I drained half the container before I had to stop to take a breath. Even though I wanted to chug the rest of it, I knew I needed to save it. After all, I had no idea when I would get more. Setting the canteen down, I picked up a small box that was made of thick paper. I flipped the lid and gasped loudly. Inside were a large handful of dried beef strips, and two cinnamon buns.
              I immediately devoured it all.
              After a while, as I nibbled the last of the beef strips, I sifted through the rest of the box’s contents, which included a small first aid kit and a pair of signal flares that could be dropped out a window or a hatch if a pilot was in danger. All in all, it awfully considerate of the Dominion. I hadn’t expected such a gift from them. The clue, however, made it seem like they were holding their kindness over my head.
              “It’s time to pay your respects if you wish to ascend first. Here are the only people who know what the race is truly worth.”
              I sighed and tossed the paper into the crate’s wreckage. Once again, I had no idea what the clue meant. And since Darby had no clue of her own, I couldn’t rely on her to help me. I couldn’t talk to her on the radio, and I couldn’t very well climb out and scream it to her. I was stuck. The best I could hope to do, at this point, was wait for another pilot to show up and follow him to the next checkpoint. I didn’t know if I would have enough fuel for that, though. I was currently sitting on a little more than half a tank, but there was no telling when the next racer would show up. I needed to make it back to civilization, too. New Eden would probably be my best bet. That meant I didn’t really have time to go into any holding pattern.
              It looked like this was it. This was the point I had to turn back. If I made it back to New Eden with enough time to spare, Darby and I might be able to work out the clue and make it there in a decent enough time to stay in contention. The race always had a halfway point. It usually lasted a full day, and it might give us enough time to catch up to everyone else.
              I picked up my canteen and took another sip of water. Part of me hated to be facing such a setback, but the majority of me was too exhausted to really care much. The worst part was letting Darby down. I was not looking forward to having to explain to her why I turned back. She had pontoons to keep her in the sky. She could shut down her engine, hover at the platform without using fuel, and just wait for the next contestant. I couldn’t tell her that, though…not without getting us both disqualified. With a beleaguered groan, I brought the canteen to my lips and drained the last of the water from it. I gave it a shake, just to be sure. I could get more water in New Eden. I didn’t care about drinking all I had.
              As I was shaking the metal container once more, I happened notice something on the bottom of it. Furrowing my brow, I tilted the canteen upside down and looked at the design that was stamped into the bottom. I only had to look for a moment before my eyes went wide. Pressed into the metal was a small three-leafed shamrock with a minute “C” embossed in the center. I knew this! I had seen in plenty of times in Nichols’ shop. It was the metallurgist from Shiloh, one that Nichols had worked with on several occasions.