Novajocks

By Kirby Ulrey

AS IF RACING WASNT DANGEROUS ENOUGH

Derrick Matthews is among the select few aerocar racers eligible to participate in the North American Championship Circuit, touted as the Nextel Cup of aerocar racing. However, theres more at stake than just the first place position; a consortium of shady corporations plan to use the NACC as a bargaining counter to gain control of the fledgling fusion industry.

Join Derrick on and off the track as he competes for the Championship Cup, tries to make peace with his new PR manager (who just happens to be his ex-girlfriend; hows that for bad karma?), and discovers a plot that may not only end his career, but also his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 3, 2006
• ISBN: 9781469117560

Kirby Ulrey

Kirby Ulrey lives in Eastern Washington. NOVAJOCKS is his first book.

Book preview

COPYRIGHT © 2006 BY KlRBY ULREY.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CONTROL NUMBER: 2006904175

ISBN: HARDCOVER 1-4257-1598-2

SOFTCOVER 1-4257-1599-0

ISNB: ebook 978-1-4691-1756-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA MAY 22

LAS VEGAS MAY 23

LOS ANGELES MAY 26

LOS ANGELES MAY 29

DALLAS-FORT WORTH JUNE 1

DALLAS-FORT WORTH JUNE 2

DALLAS-FORT WORTH JUNE 4

DALLAS-FORT WORTH JUNE 5

DALLAS-FORT WORTH JUNE 6

SHREVEPORT, LOUISIANA JUNE 7

ORLANDO, FLORIDA JUNE 8

ORLANDO, FLORIDA JUNE12

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK JUNE15

MANHATTAN JUNE 18

NEW YORK CITY JUNE 19

MANHATTAN JUNE 20

WILLOW SPRINGS, CALIFORNIA JUNE 22

SAN FRANCISCO JUNE 23

SAN FRANCISCO JUNE 24

SAN FRANCISCO JUNE25

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS JUNE 26

CHICAGO JUNE 27

CHICAGO JUNE 28

SAN FRANCISCO JUNE 29

SAN FRANCISCO JUNE 30

SAN FRANCISCO JULY 1

SAN FRANCISCO JULY 2

SAN FRANCISCO JULY 3

SAN FRANCISCO JULY 4

For Becki, with my deepest respect

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA MAY 22

Okay, Matthews, it’s the final lap and you’re still behind Chuck and Vaughn. Don’t you think it’s about time to catch up with them? Or maybe even pass them?

What the hell do you think I’m trying to do? asked Derrick Matthews as he leaned his aerocar into a tight bank while wishing that his pit chief, Archie Sanderson, was busy elsewhere.

From here, it looks like you’re abusing your primate. And didn’t Randy warn you about profanity?

Bite me, Derrick said through gritted teeth. He gave a quick glance to his status monitor; Vaughn McTeague and Chuck Leamer were, indeed, quite some distance ahead of Derrick in the first and second places. Derrick was in third behind the two racers for Team Chesterfield, which irritated him mightily. Still, the Las Vegas run was not the easiest of the American 12 aerocar circuit; if it had been, it would not have served as the final elimination for the upcoming North American Championship Circuit.

Nearly everyone believed that Vaughn and Chuck would be going to Los Angeles for the first run of the inaugural circuit, which also irritated Derrick, but he kept his mind on the job at hand: racing. If he beat Chuck to the finish line, he would be eligible to race in Los Angeles.

If he beat Vaughn, he would be in heaven.

So, after a fashion, Derrick floored it. Shoving the accelerator lever forward with his left hand, he felt inertia shoving him into his seat. Maintaining velocity and handling minor twists and turns as he shot forward, Derrick glanced at the status display again. His icon was gaining steadily on the icon that represented Chuck’s aerocar; on top of that, they were approaching a curve that Chuck kept having major problems with.

Derrick knew that taking second would be much easier than taking first. After observing Chuck’s performance during other races, it didn’t take Derrick long to realize that Leamer had neither imagination nor intuition. Chuck had a single-minded tenacity that gained him second place, but Derrick knew that such rigidity could prove disappointing when abstract thought became necessary.

Within seconds, Derrick’s jet was behind Leamer’s. The two racers hurtled toward turn six, a treacherous hairpin curve near Lake Mead. If either racer failed to negotiate the turn successfully, the result would undoubtedly provide an amusing display: an aerocar (or two) skipping across the lake, fighting to regain control. Naturally, any racer leaving the electronically monitored course would be disqualified.

Derrick maintained velocity as he approached the turn. As he expected, Chuck was decelerating rapidly as he banked to the left, but he barely cleared the laser-emitter posts that marked the outside boundary of the course. Derrick allowed his aerocar to slow a fraction; accurately gauging Chuck’s vector into the turn, he used it at his marking point. He turned a millisecond sooner than Chuck had, however, and shot through the curve inside Chuck’s aphelion, which gave him plenty of room to maneuver.

This proved quite advantageous as there was another turn less than a hundred meters past turn six. As he watched Chuck angle to the right, then to the left, Derrick turned into the curve at a different vector, slid his aerocar around Chuck’s, and turned again. Seconds later, he was in the clear, and in second place.

Good job, Archie said over the comm channel. Now let’s see if you can get around Vaughn.

His jubilance marred by Archie’s observation, Derrick asked, Do you get paid to take the fun out of everything, or do you just get your jollies that way?

I get paid to make sure that you do your job, the pit chief replied. Taking the fun out of it is just one of the perks.

Ah, noted Derrick. He checked his rearview monitor to see Chuck scrambling to regain second. Derrick levered the accelerator forward and watched Leamer’s aerocar recede into the distance. Then he glanced at the nav display and saw that he had less than twenty miles in which to get around Vaughn before their jets entered the Las Vegas city limits. If he didn’t, there would be little room to maneuver inside the suburban and downtown areas before the finish line; safety regulations indicated that the laser-sensor corridor be restricted in such zones. Getting around Vaughn would be impossible.

Luckily, the course straightened after the jets turned onto the main freeway, which had been cleared for the race. Derrick shoved the accelerator forward, a grin forming behind his helmet visor.

Before he became the official driver for Team Martinson, Derrick was on the maintenance crew while Vaughn McTeague had been the driver. As many observers came to discover, it was not an amicable working relationship. Derrick had been known to point out flaws in Vaughn’s racing repertoire, and Vaughn would observe that Derrick wasn’t the driver. More often than not, the arguments would escalate, and more than once were the two men called into the owner’s office, where Randy Martinson would issue rebukes and reprimands as necessary.

When Vaughn received a better offer from Team Chesterfield, he left without any notification, which put Randy Martinson in the position of winnowing through numerous candidates to replace him. When Derrick approached him and asked if he could try out the pilot’s seat, Randy threw caution to the wind and granted him an audition. Derrick proved his skill and tenacity faultlessly, and demonstrated his knowledge of the aerocar’s workings well enough to force Randy to admit that the young maintenance crewman had some promise. That had occurred years before the Las Vegas run, and Derrick had proven himself many times during that period.

However, what Randy hadn’t anticipated was that while most people would have forgiven or forgotten what Vaughn had done, Derrick wasn’t most people, and the concept of forgive and forget eluded him. Winning the Las Vegas 1000 would fit Derrick’s idea of natural justice, and he was almost ready to give his life to achieve that goal.

Derrick closed the gap between his aerocar and Vaughn’s aerocar with a vengeance. The thought of watching Vaughn being handed the second-place trophy made Derrick tingle with excitement, and it quite nearly overrode any thoughts of racing in a sane and professional manner. However, Vaughn had no intention of letting Derrick pass him; having noticed Derrick’s jet in his rearview monitor, Vaughn initiated a set of delaying tactics that would serve to confuse and vex the Martinson racer. First, he moved uptrack in a perihelion feint to lure Derrick forward. The feint was successful; Derrick’s jet surged ahead to fill the vacuum.

Then Vaughn shot downtrack at maximum thrust, cutting off Derrick’s path. The result was less than pleasant, and Derrick let fly with a series of acidic comments that brought Archie’s voice over the comm again.

All right, we both know that Vaughn has no interest in goats, nor is he homosexual. And since we also know that the comm channel is being monitored, it would behoove you to keep such comments to yourself.

Yeah, but didn’t you see what that rat bastard did?

Yes, but I’m not going to repeat myself. You’re supposed to be a professional, so I suggest that you start acting like one.

Right, Derrick replied sullenly. He slammed the accelerator forward until it moved no further, and then angled into another curve. By that point, the two aerocars were on the fast approach to the downtown area and the finish line; the huge buildings of the Strip were growing larger by the second. The laser corridor was barely twenty feet wide by ten high, and enforced by the emitters that could sense even the slightest touch of ceramic-coated alloy. Derrick wasted no time glancing at the hotels and casinos; they reminded him of his claustrophobia. He focused his attention on passing Vaughn before they reached the checkered flag.

His knuckles white and clammy under the liquid-cooled gloves of his racing suit, Derrick maintained velocity as he gained on Vaughn. As if in a frozen moment, Derrick managed to maneuver his jet into a position almost parallel to Vaughn’s, and he could see his opponent’s helmet through the transparent canopy. Arrogance welled up in the young racer’s heart, and he waved cheerfully at his vaunted enemy.

Then he scrambled to regain control of his jet as Vaughn nonchalantly nudged Derrick’s jet with his own. The Martinson aerocar wobbled unsteadily as they drew near the finish line. Derrick clutched his pitch stick fearfully; to lose control would not only endanger his own life, but also the lives of the spectators gathered within the tight confines of the Strip itself. At the very least, Derrick would be disqualified … Furiously kicking the attitude pedals, he fought to bring his jet under control as he gained unwanted altitude in the process. Luckily, the rear stabilizers made no contact with the invisible laser beams, and Derrick was in the clear.

Vaughn had not gone far while Derrick was stabilizing his aerocar; he was too busy watching the show. He observed the checkered flag in the distance, and pushed forward to reach it when a sudden bump jolted him. Checking the flank monitor, Vaughn saw Derrick’s jet; he initiated full thrust, knowing that he would be the winner in mere seconds.

Derrick saw this, too, and slammed his accelerator as far forward as possible. Then he felt another bump, and checked his rearview. Chuck’s aerocar was right behind him, trying to distract him into peeling off. Derrick did neither, even though Chuck’s nudging became more rhythmic.

In the blink of an eye, the finish line stood out for the three racers to notice. Two towers were on either side of the street, surrounded by screaming fans who were jockeying for a closer look. Vaughn kept his lead as Derrick and Chuck fought for second place; an instant later, Derrick feinted up, and then down again as Chuck poised to undercut him. The maneuver was sufficient; Chuck was forced to brake as Derrick’s aerocar descended rapidly and shot forward at full thrust. The crowd howled exuberantly, though none of the racers could hear it.

Then Vaughn saw an opportunity he couldn’t resist exploiting. He shoved his jet into Derrick’s, even though the finish line was mere meters away. Derrick jerked his craft toward Vaughn’s, and reciprocated with a shove of his own. For a moment, the two aerocars were locked in mortal combat; then they passed the checkered flag and began to decelerate.

Derrick glared angrily at the other aerocar as it veered away. Over the comm, Archie said, Okay, I suppose congratulations are in order. You’ve taken second.

As he initiated landing procedures, Derrick said, Swell.

And there you have it, folks! A fantastic ending to the Texas Solar Las Vegas 1000! For those who may have missed the final lap, here is the run-down: Vaughn McTeague, of Team Chesterfield, has finished in first place, guaranteeing his slot in Los Angeles for the inaugural run of the North American Championship Circuit, also known as the Big Six. In second place is Derrick Matthews, who will also be eligible to race in Los Angeles. A serious upset for Chuck Leamer, who was the odds-on favorite to take second and race in L.A. with his Team Chesterfield colleague, Vaughn McTeague; taking third, it would appear that he won’t be joining Vaughn. Rumor has it that Zeke Chesterfield has lost money because he bet that Leamer would be continuing to Los Angeles; there is also another rumor that Mr. Chesterfield will be deducting the cost of those bets from Leamer’s prize money. Sorry, Chuck; better luck next time!

Laughter echoed throughout the studio as video operators moved their cameras for the commentary segment of the program. The lead anchor, Ted Clandford, turned to his guest.

Joining us in the studio today is Hugh Weglund chief executive and chairman of the board of the North American Aerocar Racing Group. As most people know, Mr. Weglund is also the man who piloted the experimental prototype Takano aerocar several years ago. His accomplishments and prestige have earned him the unofficial title of ‘the Godfather of Aerocar Racing.’ Thank you for joining us today, Mr. Weglund.

Hugh Weglund smiled and said, Thank you, Ted. It’s a pleasure to be here.

Now, I’m sure everyone on the planet is familiar with aerocar racing, Mr. Weglund. But with this year’s introduction of the NACC, a lot of people are curious, of course, about where you’re going with it. You recently declared that the NACC will become the Nextel Cup of aerocar racing, correct?

Yes, I have, Ted. You see, when aerocar racing officially commenced back in 2016, not a single race track in the NASCAR series could effectively host an aerocar run. After all, Daytona Speedway is nearly three miles in length; the average aerocar needs ten to twenty times that length to race efficiently. It wasn’t until someone suggested that we utilize the major urban and metropolitan centers as racing tracks that we could have a true aerocar run. Of course, in the beginning, only a few cities were bold enough to allow such a venture, and for obvious reasons. The fact that normal traffic would be seriously curtailed was enough to cause complaints, in fact …

As the two men laughed, Hugh went on, When I was in NASCAR, a lot of people were saying that the circuit was growing beyond the point of mediocrity. When Saito Takano unveiled the prototype after he developed fusion-plasma energy for commercial and residential use, it didn’t take me long to see the possibilities. When I suggested aerocar racing to him after the prototype run, he was mildly irritated that he didn’t think of the concept himself!

That does sound like Mr. Takano, doesn’t it? Clandford said with a chuckle.

Undoubtedly, Hugh replied. Anyway, aerocar racing is at the point where growth is no longer constant. We have twelve official runs in the continental U.S., with other unofficial runs in other countries. But unless there is a solid framework of regulations and incentives, with tangible opportunities for growth and advancement, our racers will be flying around in circles for no reason. And that’s what the North American Championship Circuit is all about; the next level of aerocar racing.

Nodding agreement, Clandford said, I have just one more question, Mr. Weglund. Do you think the NACC would have been possible without the primary sponsorship of MachNova Aerospace?

Hugh shook his head. I seriously doubt it. Many of the sponsors of the A12 had reservations about it; Arnold Jasburn, CEO of Texas Solar, recently told me that he wants to stay with a proven money-maker. I found that mildly ironic, considering that he didn’t have such compunctions when he first signed on for the A12 years ago. However, since MachNova has projects that reach to the Moon and beyond, they have the capital to help us operate the NACC in style. And their involvement with Takano Industries will open other doors, too.

That certainly sounds promising, Mr. Weglund. Well, thank you for taking time out of your schedule to join us this morning.

You’re quite welcome, Ted, Hugh replied as the camera panned back to Clandford.

And now, let’s go to our reporter in the Winner’s Circle. Tom?

Tom Beaudrie stood next to Vaughn McTeague as members of Team Chesterfield gathered around the victorious racer and his aerocar. Vaughn was holding the first place trophy in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. A grin was pasted on his face, in direct contrast to the unpleasant scowl on that of Chuck Leamer.

On cue, Beaudrie said, Thank you, Ted. I’m here with Vaughn McTeague, winner of today’s run. Turning to Vaughn, he continued, That was quite a race, Mr. McTeague! It seemed especially tense toward the end, there, wouldn’t you say?

Not really, Vaughn replied as he spat tobacco juice on the pavement. It was routine.

I see, Beaudrie noted with a frisson of distaste. What about the demolition derby you had with Derrick Matthews during the last lap? Weren’t you worried that you might have pushed him out of bounds, or even into the crowd of bystanders nearby? That might have made your victory quite Pyrrhic, wouldn’t it?

I know Matthews, Vaughn replied calmly. He’s supposed to know how to race. If he didn’t, I don’t think he’d have made it this far, you know. I figured that he had two choices; he could have backed off, or he could have pulled up to go over me.

It appears that he chose neither option, though, Beaudrie noted with concealed satisfaction. Are you upset that he’ll be racing against you in Los Angeles?

Vaughn scowled for an instant, then said, Don’t be silly, Tom. While I’m up in front with the real racers, he’ll probably be towards the back, trying to keep some tenth-placer from running him off the road. There’s nothing to worry about. Ain’t that right, Zeke?

Zeke Chesterfield, a beefy man who wore a cowboy hat with his expensively-tailored business suit, said, Right you are, my boy. Besides, since Vaughn’ll be the only racer representing Team Chesterfield, I’ll only have to cover one racer instead of two.

With the exception of Chuck Leamer, the crowd around Vaughn and Zeke laughed. Beaudrie said, Well, I guess there’s a silver lining behind every cloud. Out of the corner of his eye, Beaudrie saw a commotion toward the edge of the crowd. Wait a moment. Isn’t that Derrick Matthews?

The camera panned right and focused on the Team Martinson racer. Another camera focused on Vaughn, whose face showed surprise and mild trepidation. The younger racer held his helmet in one hand, and the second-place trophy in the other; his expression indicated that Derrick wouldn’t be congratulating Vaughn for his victory any time soon.

Nice stunt, Vaughn, Derrick drawled menacingly. You almost pushed me through the sensor grid, and you risked the lives of quite a few people who came to watch you race. Would the deaths you almost caused be worth that piece of gold-plated tin you’re holding?

Vaughn retorted, I knew you’d stay in control, Matthews. After all, you’re just full of professional demeanor, aren’t you?

It’s better than what you’re full of. We both know you wanted me out of the way so that you and your girlfriend could race the B6 together, Derrick shot back as he pointed at Chuck, who stepped angrily towards him, ready to throw the first punch.

Vaughn stepped between the two younger racers. He said in a low voice, Girlfriend?

Chuckling evilly, Derrick said, Get real, Vaughn. Everyone knows he’s been your bitch since he signed on with Chesterfield. Throwing Chuck a derisive glance, he added, Remembered your dentures, I see.

Taking the bait, Chuck shouted, I don’t wear dentures!

Derrick asked Vaughn, "So, why do you keep this tooth-dragger around?"

Vaughn took another step toward Derrick. You could have backed off, you dumbass.

And let Chuckles the Clown here race Los Angeles? You’ve got to be kidding.

Like you could do better? Go back to the pit area, you stupid grease-monkey. Let the real men do the racing.

As the phrase grease-monkey flashed through Derrick’s mind, neurons fired in an ancient pattern. His right arm cocked up and back; the second-place trophy gleamed in the morning sunlight. Suddenly, a hand wrapped itself around Derrick’s wrist; Archie, who had followed him to the Winner’s Circle, said, It isn’t worth being disqualified over. Back off.

Derrick glared dangerously at Vaughn, but exhaled sharply and lowered his arm as he realized that the pit chief was correct. Whatever.

As the two men turned to leave the scene, Vaughn, in a fit of bravado, blurted out, What’s the matter, Matthews? Afraid that I’ll kick your lily ass on national television?

Derrick stopped in his tracks. Archie took his arm and said, Let’s go. He’s not worth it.

Derrick resumed his stride; however, Archie turned and shot Vaughn a look of pure venom.

Beaudrie noticed Vaughn letting out a barely audible gasp of relief.

Archie shook his head. I keep telling Randy that we need to get that microfilament alloy for the inner hull. Does he listen? Of course. What does he say? ‘Arch, you know we can’t afford it,’ of course. The maintenance chief sighed. And now, he’s going to take one look at this damage, scream like a banshee and ask me why there are dents in the hull. And I’m going to tell him, again, about the microfilament alloy, and he’s going to say, ‘Well, money doesn’t grow on trees!’ Y’know, Norma was right. I should have stayed in the Navy.

Glancing at the hull of his aerocar, Derrick could understand Archie’s point. The dents inflicted during the final moments of the race weren’t devastating, but enough to warrant major repair. He made a vague attempt to console Archie; Well, I don’t know. Maybe we could fix them ourselves.

Archie glared incredulously at the young racer for a moment. Then he took off his cap and belted his young colleague with it. Derrick, this isn’t aluminum, you know! This is tempered alloy! It takes about three thousand degrees to heat it up, and about twice that to give it a shred of malleability! This is tougher than the hull steel that they used on the old fighter jets! You can’t just knock the dents out with a hammer, you idiot!

Derrick said, Oh.

As the two men stared critically at the damage, a tall, muscular, and very angry executive stomped towards them, yelling, Matthews, you are, without a doubt, the most pig-headed, arrogant, non-thinking idiot I’ve ever had the displeasure to employ!

Lowering his head shamefully, Derrick said, Sorry, Mr. Martinson.

Like hell you’re sorry! Look at this! Randy Martinson, owner of Team Martinson, pointed angrily at the hull damage. Do you realize how much it’ll cost to repair this? We’re going to have to remove this hull, pull the spare out of storage, send this hulk to the shop, and it’ll cost a pretty good chunk of change that I’m sorely tempted to take out of your hide! Do you think money grows on trees?

Uh, well … Derrick stammered.

What the hell were you thinking? Randy thundered.

I was thinking that I could take first, Chief.

Randy stared briefly at the aerocar, then back at Derrick. With a calmer tone, he asked, Couldn’t you have decelerated and pulled a horseshoe around Vaughn?

No, sir. There wasn’t much room to maneuver to begin with, especially with Chuck and Vaughn trying to box me in. If I’d pulled up, I’d have been disqualified; if I pulled back, well … Chuck would’ve taken second, either way. I had to maintain my heading and velocity.

Randy glanced at Archie, who nodded in affirmation. Turning back to Derrick, he said, All right, I’ll let that one go. It was a sticky situation, and you did the best you could. But that stunt in the Winner’s Circle was blatantly stupid, and you could have been disqualified, which would have made taking second place effectively useless. In fact, perhaps you’d like to explain to me how you would have raced Los Angeles from a jail cell.

Realization dawning on him, Derrick said, Oh …

Shaking his head, Randy said, Derrick, I swear, if you weren’t such a good racer, your ass would be on the maglev back to San Francisco right now. In fact, I’m surprised that Hugh hasn’t sent one of his people over to inform you that you’re barred from participating in the B6.

That’s because I don’t delegate such tasks, Hugh said from behind Randy. My people are busy enough. Besides, under the current circumstances, I think my voice will carry more weight.

The three men turned to stare at Hugh. Derrick began to sweat visibly as the top NAARG executive said, Nice move, Mr. Matthews. You are aware, of course, that I can have you barred from aerocar racing before you can say the word ‘negligence,’ right?

Yessir, Derrick muttered.

Very good. And you are also aware that Zeke Chesterfield, Vaughn McTeague, and Chuck Leamer could nail you with lawsuits before you got your racing outfit off, right?

Derrick nodded.

Staring at the racer without blinking an eyelash, Hugh asked, "So: Why in the hell should I let you keep racing, especially in light of your little circus act?"

Suddenly defiant, Derrick said, Mr. Weglund, you saw what he did on the track, and you heard what he said afterwards!

Yes, but that’s on Vaughn, and I’ve already talked to him about that. And from you, I expect better sportsmanship. After all, don’t you make it a point that you’re better than Vaughn? Besides, you were on national television; your career could have swirled down the toilet if Archie hadn’t been there to intervene on your behalf.

As his shoulders slumped in recognition of his mistake, Derrick sighed and said, Yessir. I apologize; I should have held my temper.

Despite his scowl, Hugh was satisfied. Turning to Randy, he said, Well, he’s your problem. What do you think?

Randy hesitated, then turned to the maintenance chief. Archie?

Well, he did take second place, Archie noted. I think he has a chance to go far with it, Chief.

Randy nodded. Good point. Well, Mr. Chairman, I think we can salvage Derrick, but the choice is ultimately yours, of course.

Although his conclusion was foregone, Hugh turned to Derrick and said, All right, you may race in Los Angeles. But keep in mind, if you don’t behave yourself, I’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks. Do you read me?

Loud and clear, sir, Derrick replied. I’ll do my best.

I know you will, Derrick. Well, Randy, I believe we have an appointment later; however, if this has interrupted your schedule, we can postpone it, if you wish.

No problem, Mr. Weglund. I’ll be there.

Very well, then. Good day, gentlemen. Hugh strode off, leaving Randy, Archie and Derrick standing by the aerocar in relieved silence.

Randy turned to Derrick and said, Well. I don’t need to repeat anything, do I?

No, sir.

Good. Archie, you know what to do. I want the replacement hull on before you roll out, and your crew had better be in Los Angeles by Tuesday so that we can get the qualification out of the way.

No problem, Randy. She’ll be ready before we knock off for the night.

Excellent. Derrick, I want to see you in the office tomorrow morning. We ‘re bringing on a new PR executive; I invited her to come watch today’s race so she can get an idea of what’s ahead of her.

Surprised, Derrick asked, Are you getting rid of Sid?

Nodding grimly, Randy replied, Yes, I believe it’s time. He’s disappointed me quite a bit over the last few seasons. And since we’re going to be racing the NACC, we’re definitely going to need a PR exec that has a clue. The new exec is from the power company, and she’s proven her capabilities numerous times; I’m sure you two will get along quite nicely, Derrick.

Derrick nodded. If Randy was confident of the new exec’s skills and qualifications, Derrick was sure that she would be a valuable asset to the team. I’m already looking forward to meeting her.

Randy glanced at his watch. I’d better get moving. Archie, I’ll make sure you have your travel papers tonight. Derrick, don’t be late tomorrow morning. He nodded at the men and departed to the control center.

Derrick was grinning as Randy disappeared from sight. Well, now. A female.

That’s what he said, Archie replied dubiously.

I hope she’s good looking, Derrick observed.

Keep it in your pants, Junior, Archie warned. I know how you are with women.

Oh? How’s that?

Incompetent, Archie replied smugly.

LAS VEGAS MAY 23

It must be noted that the following morning, despite his best efforts to do otherwise, Derrick could not help but effect a mildly arrogant strut through the temporary office suite rented by Team Martinson for the short duration of the Las Vegas run. The suite was filled with frantic energy as administrative personnel hurried to pack equipment for the upcoming trip to Los Angeles. Not a single office employee had expected Derrick to qualify for the NACC; instead, they anticipated a week of vacation, followed by their return to Martinson Power, the Bay Area energy corporation owned and operated by Mr. Martinson when he wasn’t running the racing team.

Derrick knew that proving people wrong wasn’t something to be proud of; proving oneself, however, was. Therefore, it was with a satisfied smirk that he walked past a cubicle that, while normally empty, was not on this particular day. He felt mildly curious about who was occupying the cubicle at the moment; from the scent that emanated from the cubicle, Derrick had no doubts that the person was definitely of the female persuasion. The fragrance had a familiar tang, which brought back memories that Derrick had buried some years previous, and he stopped in mid-step. He silently turned to glance over the wall of the cubicle, his mind churning …