The starting horn sounds, and I take off. The familiar sensation of being flattened to my seat by speed, of having nothing on my mind except the track, the other drivers, and my car, all give me a focused, light-headed feeling.
Victoria’s instructions start spilling through my helmet. Rapid, brilliantly, and integral. Unlike my previous engineer, she slips quips in here and there to soften the mood just when the stress of potentially fucking up makes me tense. In such a short period of time, she’s become exactly what I need to excel.
And excel I do. In the first fifteen laps, I manage two overtakes and three flawless defenses. I even get to make Ulrich drive on dirty air for a quarter of a lap,accidentallyblocking him from passing and killing his tyres. I can almosthearthe reprimand in Victoria’s next set of instructions, but I don’t mind. I’ll fuck the attitude out of her later.
By the twentieth lap, my tires are shot, and I’m forced to box. I’m knocked down to P10, but that’s all I need. If I can hold this place, I satisfy my deal with Ilya, and I can push to have my upgrade package by the time we hit Montreal.
Elation makes my head spin. It’s been years since I drovethiseffectively. It’s been forever since I got to feel the weightless sensation of flying on the track.
It’s like I was on a faulty form of autopilot for seasons, and now, I’ve found the perfect way to cruise. I’ve also learned Victoria’s patterns through all the time we’ve spent in simulations, so I anticipate most of herinstructions before she gives them and have at least a few seconds to prepare—more than enough time for an experienced driver.
The hard tyres I stay on for the next 25 laps aren’t ideal. I’m forced to defend, with few opportunities to overtake—but I fight hard to hold my position, and I succeed. I cantastethe win on the tip of my tongue, and I canfeelwhat it’ll be like to finally stand on a podium again. I haven’t been there since my second season.
Then, just at lap 46, a faint drizzle starts… and one by one, almost every driver boxes—including me.
Tensions snaps the air taut. This weather was expected, but it still throws a wrench in…everything.Strategies have to become more fluid that anyone’s comfortable with, and tough, split-second calls have to be made that can lead to a win or lose. More than ever, the technical team has to be in tip-top shape.
“You’re getting skies,” Victoria murmurs when I box. There’s a lot of uncertainty in her tone, which is extremely goddamn valid, becauseskiesis our code forgreens. Intermediate tyres that can handle wet tracks, from a drizzle to a reasonably short pour. But they can’t handle flooding.
The weather isn’t forecasted to be dry for the rest of the day. The rain will intensify and intensify. Green tyres might be faster in some conditions, but they’ll be unstable as fuck if worse comes to worst.
Almost everyone else is going with blues. But… there are only just over 10 laps left in the race. All I have to do iskeep holding my position, and on greens, I might even be able to overtake and get myself back to P9.Maybe.
As long as the drizzle doesn’t turn to a deluge in the next 10 laps, I’ll be fine. And, even if it does, I’ve handled worse conditions before.I can do this. I can keep top 10.
If this is Victoria’s recommendation for me, I trust her. We’ve gotten this far together.
I peel back out onto the damp track, shoulders bunched, breathing hard.I can do this. I’m in the home stretch.I can do this.
If I keep repeating it long enough, I might actually believe it.
On lap 52, the track is thoroughly soaked and puddles are starting to form. I have to swerve to avoid them, and my tyres are starting to skid and lose traction. While Icango faster on them, the slightest fuckup could cost me the race—so I’m more careful than usual, and all of Victoria’s suggestions support that.
On lap 55, I pull aslightly—okay,very—reckless move when I see a golden opportunity present itself. Jules Prescott’s first driver, Sebastian March, is trudging along through ever-deepening puddles-and there’sjustenough of a gap on the side of him for me to push. We’re about to hit a turn, so if I make the move, I have to make it now.
If I do, I’ll be in P9. I won’t have just made top ten, I’ll have broken through it. I’ll be a serious player on the board.
“Hold position.” It’s as if Victoria can read my thoughts. “Donotovertake.”
I inch forward. I can fuckingtastethe podium I’ll get after my upgrade package. If a reckless move gets me there faster, fuck it.
“Asher.” Victoria’s voice is shrill and edged with panic now. “Hold position!”
We hit an active zone. I flick on X-mode while I have the chance, aninsanelyrisky move, but one that gives me the exact burst of speed I need. The force of the forward motion damn near crushes my ribcage as I zoom directly past March.
P9.P-fucking-9.All I have to do,want to do,is defend for the last few laps. My tyres are not stable enough for another overtake with the rapidly accumulating rain, but they don’t need to be. I’ve made it. I’m getting the upgrade package, and—
March is right on my tail.How the fuck is he on my tail already?He should be losing speed, not gaining it.
Probably because he is one talented goddamn driver. His technique is excellent; the only reason he’s not top 5 is because he, like others, has a family and is risk-averse when it comes to extremes. But it appears I’ve angered him.
I pull into a turn, tyres skidding and screeching. My downforce is not ideal, I’m riding the edge of losing control, but If I want to stay ahead, I have to push… except I’m stuck behind fuckingUlrich.
He should let me pass him. He’s slowing down while I’m still going strong, but Ulrich puts on a burst of fucking speed. His engineershouldbe telling him to let me pass,considering there’s no way he’ll jump from his place to mine, but he’s deliberately blocking me.
The end of the turn comes into sight, and the boundaries widen just a bit. March inches closer. I’m put in an impossible position. Victoria is saying something in my ear, but I’m too far gone to hear her.
Ulrich has to let me pass if he has two brain cells to rub together.He will.I swerve to the left of him at the end of the turn and push my speed to dangerous levels.
