Chapter Twenty-five

The Mobquet landspeeder roared through the desert, the low rocky hills of the southernmost tip of the Jundland Wastes far behind. Skeet poured on the power, the engines screaming their pleasure at being pushed to their design and modification limits. Enneight had tried to make his master aware of the fact that he was pushing the speeder too hard but it fell on ignorant ears; Skeet was determined to make good his early start and put as much distance behind him and the box canyon as possible.

He hadn’t seen any other racers on the course as he had sped over the surface of Tatooine. Either they were far ahead, far behind or they had come to an unfortunate end out in the dangers of the Tatooine Ten Thousand. He had no time to think of them, just concentrate on the route ahead and make sure he finished the course before the speeder gave out. There were already several warning lights indicating overheating in the sun, coolant leaks and dust contamination. He ignored them and pushed on.

A Jawa sandcrawler appeared in the distance, the huge brown vehicle stationary as the small brown-robed Jawa creatures scuttled around it. They were trying to disassemble something and get on board their leviathan transport, its four sets of caterpillar tracks steaming as other Jawas tried to clean caked sand and clear rocks from them.

As Skeet shot past they waved, some hooting and wailing and diving for cover as the timid creatures saw him approach. Skeet could see that they were stripping a crashed landspeeder, the Rodian pilot of which was seated to one side arguing with a Jawa. He passed the scene and felt the small scavengers watching him, waiting for him to suffer the same fate as the other racer so that they could improve their takings for the day.

   “Get ready for the right turn into the final two thousand kilometres, Master Skeet,” Enneight warned, his photoreceptor spinning from the holo-map to the pilot. Skeet nodded.

He had hardly spoken since they had set out that morning. Enneight had granted his master’s wish and not mentioned the incident with the two other beings and had also sworn not to tell anyone else. It was as if Skeet was forcing the scene out of his mind, trying to cover the importance of it with the race.

Skeet turned sharply, the speeder entering the final straight. He applied more power and checked the chronometer on the control panel.

   “We should do this in about two hours, so watch for any other speeders. From here on in it’s just the race and me.”

   “I understand.”

Time passed and there was still no sign of any other racers. Skeet wondered whether he was the last. He had a horrible vision of arriving at the finish line and every other competitor had packed up and left, the race over hours ago. Just the Happy Contriver would be there, Emag and Eilen sitting bored on the ramp.

   “Skeet, are you still with us?”

He started, looking at the comlink and then activating it.

   “Yeah, I’m still here. Where are you?”

   “I’m in the last one hundred kilometres.”

   “You are? I’m virtually right behind you then. Have you seen anyone else?”

   “No, but I’ve seen a lot of wrecked and abandoned speeders. I don’t think there’s many of us left.”

   “It’ll all be over in twenty minutes, but let’s not get too sure about it.”

   “I’m with you there. I’m losing pressure in my primary thruster. I’ve been losing speed for the last hour and a half. I’ve got this nasty feeling you’re...”

   “Whoa, not yet, Driss, I’ve still got to catch you up.”

   “See you at the finish line, kid.”

The comlink clicked off and Skeet smiled. So the race was still on. There were still competitors but if any others were ahead or had actually finished was still unknown. He worked his shoulders and his neck to relax his aching muscles and made ready for the last push.

Skeet was worried that he had misjudged the amount of course that was left for more time had passed than he had anticipated. He checked the holo-map and his position and saw that he was still within the five-kilometre corridor. If that was correct, and he was heading in the right direction, then why didn’t he recognise any of the landscape?

It was at that moment he saw a plume of dust far ahead, with a stream of smoke mixed with the cloud. He narrowed his eyes to get a better look at the speeder but couldn’t quite make it out.

There was another speeder next to it. Even from this range he could see that one speeder was continually ramming the other. The course corridor was narrowing, now, as they entered the last few kilometres of the race and they were obviously fighting for position. Skeet surmised that if they were fighting to get to the finish line first then they were obviously the leaders. He smiled and gunned the engine.

As he pressed the accelerator there was a grinding noise from the left engine. This was followed by a pop and then a grinding noise like metal on metal. The engine spewed white smoke, sputtered and died.

   “No!” Skeet cried out, dismayed at the sudden loss of velocity. “Not now!”

   “The left engine cooling system has ruptured and overheated. We have lost approximately twenty percent top thrust.”

   “I don’t believe it!” he shouted and looked back to the two fighting speeders. He was still gaining, at any rate, as they both slammed into each other again.

It was then that Skeet noticed that the speeder belching smoke was actually trying to get away from the other. He also noticed that the speeder avoiding damage was Driss Cotta’s SoroSuub, the two engines screaming power out so hard that blue flames ejected from the thruster nacelles. One of these nacelles was also trailing the smoke.

The other speeder was an open-topped Mobquet, a similar design to Skeet’s, and the pilot of it was, as he watched, heaving the speeder over for another collision.

   “Oh, this I don’t believe,” Skeet groaned.

It was Gern Omik.

The lizard slammed his speeder into Driss’ again, a large panel ripping away from the victim and flying at Skeet as he approached. He dipped the speeder down so that the underbelly scraped the ground and sparks flew so that the panel would pass over his head.

Driss had tried to get over and away from Gern but they were dangerously close to the edge of the narrowing course corridor. It was obvious that Gern was trying to force Driss off the course and thereby disqualify him. As he flung his speeder over again, Driss slammed on his brakes and tilted up the nose. Gern shot past, pulling out so as not to pass over the border and braked himself. He was too late. According to Skeet’s holo-map he had passed out the corridor and was effectively out of the race. Skeet stood in his seat as he piloted the speeder and roared his joy, pumping his fist at Driss in exultation.

But the manoeuvre had compromised Driss’ speeder badly. The tight turn caused the already strained engines to scream and then the smoking one exploded. Driss was on one engine and losing speed.

All this and the finish line was in sight. The blue beam had been unbroken – they were the first racers to make it back.

Skeet knew he could make it. He could see that Driss’ speeder would make it to the finish line but was losing speed, whereas Skeet still had two good engines and could make it first. He knew that Driss was a friend and had helped him during the race but this was the moment they knew they had to face.

Who was the best?

There was another belch of smoke as another of Skeet’s engines ruptured. He ignored it; the finish line was so close now he could make out figures, hundreds of them, standing either side of the track and waving flags. They were either the racing team’s members or spectators just come to see the final moment of the race. Either way they were there, cheering and hooting in the distance. Skeet began to gain on Driss.

Just out of the corner of his eye he saw another speeder cutting in at full speed. He looked over to see Gern Omik applying full thrust and heading straight at Driss, rage and hate flashing across his features as he sought revenge for the Duros' tactic, which had knocked him out of the race. With horror Skeet looked on as he saw the attacking speeder rise over the one metre flight ceiling allowed in the race. Gern had obviously deactivated the height inhibitor and was now flying at Driss in a lethal attack that would send him slamming into the Duros’ cockpit.

Skeet was moving in an overtaking position, knowing that he could easily get past Driss and to the finish line first but Driss obviously hadn’t seen Gern coming at him and wasn’t dodging, his eyes fixed on the finish and pushing the speeder as hard as it would go.

With a sudden decision and a vision of Gern sat on a speederbike with sharp steering vanes, Skeet turned his speeder into the lizard’s path. He had the accelerator as flat as it could get and he simply pointed his speeder on an intercept vector and let the engines roar in his ears. They began failing just as he reached the lizard’s craft.

Gern, suddenly realising he had a speeder screaming at him from his left-hand side, looked over in shock. Then an expression passed over his face which seemed to convey that he was thinking ‘oh, no, not again’ as Skeet slammed into him.

The attacking speeder’s height made it difficult for Skeet to get any real connection but he raised the nose of his speeder as best he could to get maximum impact. Their noses collided, nearly the entire front end of Gern’s vehicle was torn away as the metal of the two speeders intermingled. There was the sound of a huge bang as the vehicles hit, panels and smoke and internal workings flying away in all directions.

They careered off into new paths, Skeet heading towards the finish line and Gern towards a towering rock formation. He leapt from the speeder as it headed for it, the nose bent upwards and sparking brightly as internal systems shorted out. As the lizard hit the ground the speeder hit the rock, exploding all over sand and sending debris showering over the spectators who still roared their glee.

Gern looked up at the burning wreck and then buried his face in the sand.

Skeet had lost his chance. He watched, saddened yet pleased as Driss passed over the finish line to the tumultuous cheers and applause of the spectators. He slammed on his brakes and spun the speeder in a bootlegger turn, leaping from the vehicle as the crowds engulfed him. He stared back at Skeet, trying to push his way through the crowd to see if his friend was alright after the horrendous collision.

Skeet’s Mobquet was still moving, ever so slowly, literally five or six meters from the finish line. He pumped the accelerator pedal as he tried to squeeze as much energy from the depleted engines as he could. The impact had damaged the vehicle severely.

   “I will finish this damn race!” he shouted. His raised voice caught the attention of several spectators who turned to watch the racer trying to force his wrecked vehicle to the blue beam.

They nudged one another and pointed as the rapidly dying craft inched towards the line. The crowd started to shift their attention from congratulating Driss to this young racer, so determined to finish the race even though his speeder was all but destroyed. Driss, welcoming the shift of attention, pushed his way through and to the front.

    “Come on, Skeet!”

The young man had his teeth gritted and his face was defiant. He saw through blurred eyes Emag and Eilen also forcing their way through the crowd and taking up Driss’ shout.

   “Come on, Skeet!”

Other racers joined the cheering, the shouting and the urging on of this man. Voices and howls and screeches filled the air as multiple beings called out. They stood at a respectful distance from the speeder as it slowly moved to the finish line and when two Quarrens stepped forward to push him over Emag shouted at them.

   “No! Leave him! He wants to do it on his own! Come on, Skeet!”

The speeder was barely a metre from the line, now, and the crowd around the craft were waving their appendages and encouraging him on.

   “Sir, we have only one engine left and that is only at two percent capability,” Enneight reported.

   “Come on, baby, give me all you’ve got!” Skeet shouted. “Dammit, Brey didn’t build you to give up now!”

As if answering its pilot’s plea the speeder moved forward another few inches.

Half a metre.

The crowd was in an uproar. Their cheers and shouts were drowning out the screaming of the protesting engine, which had now all but given up.

Skeet stared at the finish line.

At that moment the engine finally gave out, the overworked power cells gave up and the repulsor emitter failed. The speeder dropped to the ground. The fight was over. The speeder had given out.

It had also crossed the finish line by less than two centimetres.

The sound that assaulted Skeet’s ears was like an explosion in his head and it took him a moment to realise it was the crowd roaring their approval. He was lifted out of the cockpit by Driss and Emag, Eilen threw her arms around him and dozens of beings tried to get to him to shake his hand or pat his back. He was thrown about by the crowd and appeared limp, as if he was in shock. His smile was one of surprise as he grabbed his uncle and held him in a fierce hug.

Suddenly he broke away, pushing a route back to the speeder. He managed to get to the cockpit and looked in, tapping the photoreceptor of Enneight.

   “Enneight! Enneight! Oh, no! Enneight, are you still there?”

There was a click and a whirr, and the photoreceptor spun to gaze upon him.

   “I am, sir. My power pack is independent from the vehicle’s systems.”

   “Oh, thank goodness,” Skeet said, feeling relieved. “Are you alright?”

   “I am fine, Master Skeet, and if I may break from protocol for a second?”

   “You may.”

The photoreceptor rose to its full metre height and looked at the young man.

   “That was damn fine racing, sir!”