B.O.M.S. and W.A.S.E. set upon Cenn and Erin with haste, that they were from different teams didn’t seem to matter. The perennial powerhouses moved as if they’d drilled together for years, each pair orbiting the other in perfect sync.

  As they closed in along a bend, Erin and Cenn must’ve looked like wounded prey. They paused as the two came into view and Daiko wondered for a moment if they sold the act too hard, but then W.A.S.E. accelerated into the turn, cutting them off in front while B.O.M.S. sealed the track from behind.

  Daiko’s expression glowed as the P.I.S. triggered. He flipped open the coms, “do it.”

  Erin turned from his position in front of Cenn, clasped her meck’s hand and allowed himself to be thrown backward. Erin drilled his legs toward the B.O.M.S. clash meck—the one the emcee called Patriot—drop kicking him square on the chassis.

  As Erin flew through the air, Cenn ditched her feigned fatigue and drove straight into Enzo—the W.A.S.E. clash pilot—wrapping her arms around the bigger meck and leaning back to throw him off balance.

  From the cockpit feed, Daiko saw Cenn strain against the sticks as Enzo resisted her. From the track feed, Daiko saw Andre decelerate to deliver a finishing blow while Enzo held as best he could.

  Andre’s leg reeled back, the tract pad catching the stadium light as it arced down—Erin burst forward to catch the limb-midswing. Without losing momentum, he swung Andrew’s entire meck into the rail. The lime green dash meck crashed and tumbled back into the B.O.M.S. team as they were about to recover, and forcing them to fall further behind.

  “Take it out!”

  Cenn and Erin complied, pouncing on Enzo, dismantling his meck piece by piece. Cenn threw heavy shots, keeping it engaged while Erin darted in and out, carving up its armor with sweeping slides of his tracts pads. Enzo couldn’t take his attention from Cenn long enough to find Erin before another chunk of armor was stripped away.

  Desperate, Enzo tried to bullrush the two of them and rejoin his teammate. Cenn moved to the side, letting Erin deliver one more slice to its chassis before she hooked its falling frame and slammed it into the railing with so much strength it rolled up the track railing and burst alight from the electric barrier protecting the fans. As Enzo’s meck blew apart, the crow exalted in the carnage.

  “I can’t believe it! Westwood Motors KO’s Enzo Tenesto of War and Strategy Enterprises! The rookies are in first place with less than two laps to go!”

  “I can’t believe it either…” For once, Mina looked out at the track —-holos, slabs, and data feeds completely forgotten.

  “We’ve still got a hill to climb, little hammer. This last full pass through the arena will be the hardest one yet.”

  Andre and the B.O.M.S. mecks were showered with metal but burst through the wreckage in a triangle formation, and began to close the distance.

  “Right,” Mina said, then slid a window onto his holo. It took him a moment to register what he was looking at—permutations of scores? She began explaining to him what each team needed to do to win—how many KOs and laps—-always ending with each team needing to delay Westwood Motors. You do love your data, don’t you?

  “I’ll send this data to Erin and Cenn, they can—”

  “Don’t. They’re going to focus on placing first, that’s all.”

  She paused, her momentum perturbed.

  “I know. That’s what I’m saying too.”

  “Good, then let them do it..”

  He sensed the argument she wanted to have, and if they were anywhere else she’d have let him have it. Probably still would once this was over. Despite being a certifiable genius, she hadn’t learned what he knew to be foundational about managing mecks: let the pilots drive.

  Mina’s automated scripts could tell him a thousand things about Cenn’s performance, but not everything. Daiko took a moment to see the gaps in Mina’s readings…

  Cenn’s meck registered a 2% differential in repulsor output, but there wasn’t a combination of data streams that could determine how she was mitigating it in real time. Hell, Cenn probably doesn’t know how she’s doing it. And while Erin’s meck was technically within functioning parameters, Daiko noted how he’d changed his style more than a few times throughout the match to accommodate the degradation to his hull and tracts. His shock absorbers alone had been in the red for nearly ten laps already, but still, he took each turn with the grace only someone at the sticks could feel into.

  These instincts were the one gift his time at war had honed to a razor’s edge. He wouldn’t fault Mina for not knowing these lessons, not when the price he paid had been so high.

  “Here they come!”

  B.O.M.S. and W.A.S.E. finally made their move, Andre Tenesto at the tip of their triangle.

  “So, what do we do?” Mina asked urgently, “What’s the plan?”

  Daiko leaned back in his chair, knowing the answer, and knowing Mina wasn’t going to like it.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Shouldn’t we—” Mina was interrupted by a voice on the com.

  “Erin, remember the Iron Royale from last year?” Cenn’s voice interrupted Mina.

  There was no sign Erin comprehended, other than his lack of argument. Cenn then began to count down from three. As she reached zero, she accelerated to her max speed and leapt high into the air. Air resistance met meck, and she was blow backward at high speed. Before Daiko could be concerned or impressed, Andre Tenesto’s diminutive clash meck smashed into Cenn like a poorly belted crash dummy. The impact still forced Cenn to tumble forward together and Daiko nearly laughed as he saw Cenn gripping closely as he tried to escape the death spin. They grinded to a halt at the very end of the track, by that time Andre’s meck was pulp.

  “Just like that the reigning champions are out of the Primera!”

  Erin bolted, trusting Cenn to get the job done. After a moment, Furious from B.O.M.S. followed, her sky blue dash meck chewing up the distance between them. Unfortunately, Patriot slowed, turning his sights on Cenn.

  While she squared off against him, the remaining clash mecks formed the blockade from earlier, only this time, there was a meck guarding each exit track—and something else along the side Daiko hadn’t noticed before.

  A burnt orange meck skated haphazardly, top half aflame.

  “Volken…” Mina said, seeing what Daiko was staring at.

  It was sad to see them go down—Cenn would be angry that it wasn’t her—but Daiko felt a swell of pride that the Volken team hadn’t joined this coalition against Westwood Motors.

  A flash of red light on his holo reeled him back to Cenn’s feed as she struggled against Patriot. For every parry she threw, Patriot gained an inside flurry, but it was when Cenn managed to turn and skate away from the fight that Daiko knew something was really wrong.

  Daiko was already pulling up Cenn’s status rendering when Val called up.

  “She’s popped pistons D11 and D12. I don’t know how she does this, but I think she’s going to lose another arm.”

  “Can we isolate and sever it remotely like before?” Daiko said, as he zoomed in on the schematic. The pistons were going to hold as long as they could, no fixing those.

  There was a pause as Snake passed signs along to Val.

  “That’s a negative from here.”

  The damage to Cenn’s meck was evident, even before Mina chimed in to tell him how bad.

  “Her meck’s going through ambit divergence.”

  Daiko squashed a curse before it reached his lips, then compared the command scripts himself. Her meck still held an acute response time but the differential was off. When turning left, she was averaging a ten degree divergence.

  Daiko thought about Volken’s meck and how Cenn may soon be a flaming mess next. For the first time all day, Daiko made sure he checked the withdrawal button on his holo. Pressing that would surround Cenn with the arena’s gravwell barriers, and lower safely below deck—but then Erin would be all alone.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Erin passed the lap line, followed by Furious a moment later. As soon as their tracts crossed the lap line, its tiles shimmered then became a pristine black-and-white checkered pattern.

  “This is it, folks. Will Erin Kage make it through the arena one last time, or will B.O.M.S. regain their throne?!”

  Despite being slammed against the wall by Patriot, Cenn perked up.

  “The kid gets all the credit.”

  All of Cenn’s feeds suddenly went out, replaced by gut-wrenching static. Daiko sat up to look across the arena, assuming the worst, but they returned a second later showing Cenn had earned a meager degree of separation.

  Meanwhile, the blockade raced toward Erin. From his forward feed, Daiko assessed his evasion paths. It was going to be tight he’d need to—

  A flaming ball of burnt orange metal rocketed into one of the mecks heading for Erin. Their momentum carried them to the side, where the next meck was caught up as well.

  “Volken broke the line!” Mina yelled, and Erin reacted as though it was part of the plan all along. He took a hard line toward the middle path and managed to squeeze through before the others sealed the opening.

  “Are you kidding me! Westwood Motors is saved by Team Volken again!”

  Daiko looked at the stadium holo as it flicked to the roof of Volken's pit. The manager and his assistant were standing on their pit roof, bowing. Though their pits weren’t close, Daiko could still make out two figures against the sea of the crowd. Daiko found himself returning the gesture, Mina joining him.

  “They helped us. Again.” she said, standing upright again.

  Daiko was going to respond, but the stadium holo flicked to the Westwood Motors pit next. His own face bore holes into the camera. He looked older than he felt, his skin looked like worn leather, manager’s jacket stained with sweat. His entire disheveled state stood stark against the ivory battlement in the background as his title flashed across the screen, one given to a man from another life.

  “Is this your next champion? Will it be the great Mons Hitori, Asparia’s Dragon?”

  Daiko seethed as a short clip from his past began to play. He was at the top of a small and quickly built stage, receiving his now title of Dragon from the Imperio’s mother, Aneeda. He felt transported back to that moment on Jupiter, face rigid and numb. The moonscape in the background littered with the bodies of men, machines, and Geos alike. Everyone cheered.

  Daiko floated in his hate, tethered to hell. Only Cenn’s cries drew him back to his holo.

  “-fading! Right stick’s dead. Val!”

  Val responded through their open channel. Did I miss the direct line? Down below, Mark and Joyce had joined Val and Snake at the pit’s central hub for the last lap. Mark no longer looked so excited.

  “We can’t bypass the governing board,” Val said.

  Daiko scanned the data as quickly as he could.

  “Brake. Pull it back,” Daiko said, “return to the arena entrance and wait for Erin—””

  “No!” Mina leaned over his chair to keep the channel open. “Maintain speed, you’re losing acceleration function.”

  Was that true? Daiko’s brain felt like it was swimming in mud. She showed him the data and she shook off a little of the stupor.

  “Mina’s right. Don’t slow down. Push to the outside and buy as much time as you can. Every second you’re still kicking is another second they’re not focused on Erin.”

  All Erin had to do was get onto that track, ride it one more time then and cross the finish line.

  “Sir, we have a problem,” Erin’s voice through the com was sobering. “B.O.M.S. isn’t following me.”

  Daiko saw what Erin meant immediately. Diana ‘Furious’ Furro—the B.O.M.S. dash meck—abandoned her pursuit of Erin and had turned toward the skirmish with Cenn instead. The only other two mecks remaining in the Primera got the memo as well and followed suit just as Erin was beginning his ascent up the vertical track.

  Mina flashed her permutation display onto his holo again.

  “I told you this could happen. They’ll take out Cenn, and then the other two mecks so that even if Erin finishes in first place, B.O.M.S. will have enough points to win.”

  “They can try!” Cenn yelled as she abandoned her evasive pattern to square up against the nearest meck.

  Daiko looked back at Erin, but he was already halfway up the incline. He wouldn’t be able to help her now. Daiko slammed his fist against the arm of his chair. Cenn faced down four opponents at once, and even if Erin made a record lap time, he’d never make it before B.O.M.S. collected their points and took the lead. He should’ve listened to Mina, he shouldn’t have gotten distracted by old debts and thoughts of revenge, he should’ve—

  “Hang on, Cenn,” Erin’s words were as crisp as a bullwhip, and Daiko drew his attention to the dash meck’s feeds.

  The output display chimed a warning as Erin decelerated while nearing the very top of the vertical track. From Daiko’s seat atop the battlement, Erin’s meck was just a shadowed speck. Thankfully the stadium holo zoomed in on Erin as he fought against gravity.

  Each of his strides was slower than the last until his velocity bottomed out. The crowd gasped as—just for a moment—he was suspended a kilometer in the air…

  Then he began to fall.

  Erin’s meck didn’t flail. It contorted to one side, chassis first, then hips following after as it fought against the air resistance. Daiko could hear Erin snarl through the feed as he grappled with the resistance at the sticks, but Daiko wasn’t watching the feed before him any more. He found himself leaning against the pit battlement watching it all unfold with his own eyes.

  Erin fell straight down, parallel with the track. His tracts skipped off the asphalt, each point of contact threatening to twist him off center. A burst of sparks announced he’d reached the first part of the track’s leading downward—the rest of the ramp came up terrifyingly quick. Mina rushed to Daiko’s side.

  “Erin!”

  A quarter of a million people suddenly went silent as Erin attempted to skate down the ramp at terminal speed. Daiko could hear the sound of metal grinding pavement from his chair. For a moment, it looked like Erin might land cleanly, but then one leg slid out, and the momentum from the fall pushed him downward.

  He began to tumble, and Erin tried to turn it into a somersault to reduce the impact. Had he not just dropped hundreds of meters straight down, he might have pulled it off.

  Instead, he rolled, shot right back up, missed his feet, and rolled again—all while clocking 130 km an hour back into the arena.

  A ding broke through the ringing in his ears. Daiko registered it distantly as the immersion sync turning on for both mecks.

  “I see you!” Cenn called out.

  Still grappling with two of the mecks, she turned and threw herself into Erin’s trajectory. Just before Erin started another roll, he whipped his arms out and clasped an iron clad grip on the chassis of the meck attacking Cenn.

  By twisting his body at the last second, Erin transferred most of his momentum to the other meck so that when he released his grip it flew away as though launched from a catapult. It crashed into the meck beside it, and the two flew into the stadium barrier with a brilliant scattering of metal and light. Erin rolled to a stop near Cenn—somehow surviving his suicidal tactic.

  Patriot was still latched to Cenn’s other side, but was presently stunned. Cenn, who was never truly impressed with anyone but herself, tore into him with a ruinous fury. Each blow was wildly off center, but the target was too near for her to miss.

  Patriot began to teeter. With a battle cry, she reared her fist back one more time just as sparks flew from several sections of her armor at once. Instead of delivering the finishing blow, she fell to one knee.

  From the cockpit feed, Daiko saw her straining against the sticks. With her acceleration functions completely shot, if she let her meck trip into system failure, she wouldn’t be able to stand up again.

  Patriot wavered, and for a moment it looked like he was going to find his feet again. A second later he fell backward, and lay motionless.

  Silence. Daiko heard Val’s voice through the pit and through his com.

  “It’s as bad as it looks, sir.”

  She relayed the foreboding integrity damage of both mecks. His logical brain told him to get back to the chair, assess the data, and get them moving but he didn’t—couldn’t. If anything, he leaned further over the parapet wall because even legends aren’t immune to the making of their kin.

  The crowd shed their silence and replaced it with uncertain whispers, while upon the leaderboard all but three pilot cards dimmed. One team stood on top, and it was ahead by two points.

  Furious was their only opponent, and stood out against the scorch pocked arena. Her meck wasn’t undamaged, it was just brighter when compared to Cenn, Erin, and the rest of the hellscape.

  “It’s not over,” Mina said slowly. Daiko couldn’t peel his eyes away from the arena to look at her slab, but he did listen. “We didn’t get credit for two of those KOs…the adjudication says ‘incidental’… so if Furious can KO both our mecks and finish… they’ll win.”

  While the rest of the downed mecks were lowered into the arena and out of play, Erin struggled to his feet and limped toward Cenn, who managed to get her meck to stand.

  Furious took a step toward them, emboldened by their apparent fragility. It hesitated as Cenn and Erin leaned on each other and lifted their fists—ready to end the whole thing together.

  “Come on!” A voice called. Daiko looked down for the source and saw Arthur hanging from the porthole window of the garage, screaming his head off. His words ignited the crowd, and they returned to form with a deafening roar.

  Battered by the din, Furious hesitated and took a step backward.

  “Go!”

  The rest of the Westwood Motors crew had found portholes of their own and joined the rallying cry. Furious looked ready to retreat or at least considered the track behind her. It could still finish the race. They wouldn’t win, but it was honorable just to finish the Primera, but she waited too long to decide.

  Erin and Cenn shot forward with a ferocity he had yet to see in his years as a manager, colliding with then crushing their opponent under nearly inoperable machines.

  So many things happened at once…The emcee announcing the judge’s decision…confetti bursting from cannons along the stadium rafters…lights glittering every color in the known spectrum…and a hologram of a crown growing out of the arena like a sunflower.

  As the fervor rose around him, Daiko experienced an all too familiar sinking feeling. He reached for the energy electrifying all the souls in the system at that very moment, and found… nothing.

  He looked at his hands on the parapet, and felt they’d become a part of the stone. Mina wrapped her arms around him suddenly, permitting a pauper’s warmth into his heart.

  “We won!” She yelled, squeezing him close. “We won!”

  Daiko was nearly tackled from behind by another set of arms, then another. He looked between the growing mass of bodies and limbs, to the arena below, where Cenn and Erin climbed their mecks as fans left their seats in the stands to rush the new champions.

  “You did it!” Mark’s voice boomed in his ear. Daiko leaned back, turning his head to face him. The man’s eyes were alive.

  “Congratulations Westwood Motors, This is going to change everything.”

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