The Bug whispered something.
Jason looked at him. ‘That’s okay, little brother. Anytime.’
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, in the Race Briefing Room, there came a big surprise.
Accompanying Race Director Calder onto the stage was none other than the Principal of the Race School, Jean Pierre LeClerq. He took the lectern.
‘Racers,’ he began. ‘I have an announcement to make. Some excellent news has come through. I have just received word from the Professional Racers Association regarding Race School participants in the annual New York Challenger Race.’
A buzz filled the room.
The New York Challenger Race was part of the week-long New York Racing Festival, the high-point of the hover car racing year, held in October. The climax of the Festival was the New York Masters Series: four different kinds of race, held one race per day - a supersprint, a gate race, a multi-car pursuit race and last of all, a long-distance quest race.
A veritable feast of racing, the New York Masters title was the most prestigious hover car racing title in the world and the last of the four Grand Slams.
The New York Challenger Race, however, was traditionally held two days before the Masters series. It was an intricate lap race through a street circuit that traversed the avenues and parks of New York City.
Entry was by invitation only and the race normally featured up-and-coming racers from the satellite leagues. Schools like the International Race School were often given a couple of invitations to disperse as they pleased.
Participating in the New York Challenger Race was not just an honour - it was also an incredible opportunity for an unknown racer, since it was a chance to race in front of the pro-racing teams who would be assembled in New York for the Masters.
‘I am pleased to announce,’ LeClerq said, ‘that the Racers Association has allocated the International Race School four places in this year’s New York Challenger Race!
‘In keeping with the School’s long-standing tradition in matters such as this, the four invitations to the Challenger Race will be allocated to those racers occupying the top four positions on the Race School Championship Ladder at the end of the school competition in September.’
The buzzing in the room intensified as racers and their teams quickly conferred, calculating their chances of coming in the Top 4.
It was now late May. There was still a long way to go in the School Championships.
Jason, the Bug and Sally formed a huddle. Jason’s face was a little cut and bruised.
Sally whispered: ‘The Top 4? Geez, can we make it?’
‘There’s a lot of racing left in this season,’ Jason said. ‘Just about everyone can still make it. Either way, it certainly gives us something huge to race for.’
At that moment Principal LeClerq cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention again.
‘I also have another announcement to make,’ he said, ‘this one concerning the annual Sponsors’ Event to be held here at the Race School this coming weekend. Two things. First, the format of the Sponsors’ Event.’
The format of the Sponsors’ Event changed every year: some years it was a gate race, others an enduro, sometimes it was even a series of races.
‘This year’s Sponsors’ Event,’ LeClerq said, ‘will take the form of a tournament: a day-long series of knockout one-on-one pursuit races.’
Once again, the room rippled with excitement. Such a format was similar to a professional tennis tournament: as you beat one opponent, you went through to the next round, until by the end of the day, only two racers were left to fight out the final. Every race was do-or-die, which made for very exciting racing.
But then LeClerq went on. ‘My second announcement about the Sponsor’s Event is more administrative. As I am sure you are all aware, the Event has long been scheduled to take place this coming weekend, in front of all of the School’s sponsors and benefactors.
‘Owing to the inclement weather of late and its effects on our courses across the island - mudslides, high seas along the coasts - it has been decided that Races 23 and 24, set for today and Tuesday, will be cancelled. Weather permitting, Race 25 will go ahead as planned on Thursday.’
The announcement made Jason gag. ‘What!‘ he whispered in disbelief.
But everyone else in the room, it seemed, had been dazzled by the New York Challenger announcement and appeared unfazed by this.
‘No way,’ Sally McDuff said. ‘They just canned two races…’
‘And we haven’t qualified for the Sponsors’ Event yet,’ Jason said.
They looked at each other, not even needing to say it.
If they were going to race in the all-important Sponsors’ Event at the weekend, they had to win Race 25 on Thursday.
Second wouldn’t cut it anymore.
Now they had to win.
CHAPTER SIX
The next few days went by very quickly.
Luckily, the weather brightened, and while Races 23 and 24 were still cancelled, Race 25 was cleared to go ahead as scheduled on Thursday.
Scott Syracuse continued with lessons, even going so far as to reschedule new classes on the days that had previously been set aside for Races 23 and 24. Most of the other teams had been given those days to rest or work on their cars at their leisure.
It was odd then that on the Tuesday - the original day for Race 24 - both Horatio Wong and Isaiah Washington fell mysteriously ill, and so missed Syracuse’s new classes. Tired as they were, Jason, the Bug and Sally still went.
That same day, the format for Race 25 was revealed. Put simply, Race 25 - the halfway race in the School season - was a doozy.
It was an enduro, an eight-hour marathon on the School’s second-longest course, a multi-faceted track that snaked its way around the island of Tasmania, hugging the coastline, occasionally jutting inland. Since each lap would take an astonishing 24 minutes, the race was only 20 laps long. But this course came with two very special features.
The first feature was a worthy imitation of the signature feature of the Italian Run: a short cut.
The famous short cut in the Italian Run sliced through the heel of the ‘boot’ that is Italy. As such, the term for successfully exploiting such a short cut is: ‘cutting the heel’.
The Race School’s short cut sliced across the main isthmus of the Port Arthur peninsula at the town of Dunalley, offering the game racer a 30-second jump on the rest of the pack - if he or she could figure out the correct route through a short underground maze.
And the second feature: demagnetising ripple strips on all the hairpin turns and S-bend sections of the course.
Colloquially known as ‘demon lights’, demagnetising ripple strips are a standard feature on the pro tour and particularly nasty. They flank the curves on a hover car course and look rather like wide runway lights that float in the air.
Put simply, they are a method of enforcing disciplined driving. If you stray off the aerial track and fly even for a moment over some demag lights, your magneto drives lose magnetic power at an exponential rate. Thus your car loses traction and control. Dealing with demag lights is simple: don’t run over them.
Since Wong and Washington weren’t around, Jason, the Bug and Sally took the opportunity to talk to Syracuse about tactics for Thursday’s all-important race.
‘What about the short cut?’ Jason asked. ‘Should we try to cut the heel?’
‘No,’ Syracuse said quickly. ‘The short cut is fool’s gold. It looks like a good option, but in truth it’s not an option at all.’
‘What if we’re behind and it’s the only chance we have?’
‘I still wouldn’t go near it,’ Syracuse said. ‘It’s a trap for the unwise, for those who like short cuts. Indeed, it’s designed to appeal to their greed. I would only use it if I knew the correct way through it beforehand.’
‘But we can’t know that,’ Sally said. ‘The peninsula mine tunnels are strictly out of bounds. We’re not allowed to check them out
beforehand.’
Scott Syracuse cocked his head sideways. ‘No, Ms McDuff. That’s not entirely true. There are legitimate ways of mastering such mazes, if you have the patience…’
He left the sentence unfinished, looked directly at them.
‘Unless you know the secret of the maze, I would suggest you not use the short cut in Thursday’s race.’
With that they finished early, around 2:30 p.m.
Jason and the Bug returned to their dorm - weary, beat.
Truth be told, at that moment, Jason was feeling as low as he had ever felt at Race School. He felt overtired from too many classes, underappreciated by his teacher, out of his depth with his fellow racers, and out of races to win.
Which was probably why he was caught off-guard when he and the Bug arrived back at their apartment to find a pair of visitors waiting outside their dorm room, large shadows at the end of the hall.
At first Jason froze, fearing another confrontation with Xavier and Barnaby, but then he heard one of the shadows speak:
‘Where’s my little Doodlebug!’ a booming woman’s voice echoed down the corridor.
He smiled broadly.
There, standing outside his and the Bug’s dorm room, were their parents.
The Chaser family went out for the afternoon.
They drove out to the ruins of the mighty 18th-century convict prison at the tip of the Port Arthur peninsula, where Martha Chaser unrolled a picnic rug and spread out an array of sandwiches and soft drinks.
And Jason and the Bug spent a wonderful afternoon sitting in the sunshine talking with their parents.
The Bug sat nestled alongside Martha Chaser, looking very content, while Jason told their parents about everything that had happened to them at the International Race School since he and the Bug had last emailed.
He told them about their continuing technical problems, about recent races, about the Black Prince and Barnaby’s backroom thuggery (which Martha didn’t like at all and wanted to inform the authorities about, but to Jason’s relief Henry Chaser stopped her by saying, ‘No, dear, this is a battle for the boys to fight’), and about Scott Syracuse’s relentless class schedule that didn’t seem to be replicated by any of the other teachers at the School.
He also told them about Race 25, the race that he and the Bug had to win if they were to get a start in Saturday’s all-important tournament.
‘First of all, son,’ Henry Chaser said gently, ‘let me just say this about your teacher, Mr Syracuse. Never ever worry about having the “hard” teacher. Trust me, the hard teachers are always the best teachers.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the hard teachers want you to learn. This Syracuse guy isn’t here to be your best friend, Jason. He isn’t here to have a fun old time. He’s here to teach. And it sounds to me like he’s teaching as hard as he damn well can. What about you: are you learning as hard as you can?’
Jason frowned at that. ‘But he never says “well done” or “good job.”’
‘Ah-ha. So that’s it,’ Henry Chaser said. ‘You want to get some positive feedback out of him. Want to know how to get that?’
‘Yes.’
Henry Chaser smiled enigmatically. ‘Jason. When you start learning as hard as you can, I guarantee he’ll start treating you differently.’
Jason sighed, bowed his head.
His father clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s okay, son. You’re only 14. You’ve got to learn these things sometime. Now. To more important matters. Tell me again about this race on Thursday that you have to win at any cost.’
Unfortunately the afternoon had to end, and as dusk descended, the Chasers packed up their stuff and started the drive back to the Race School.
On the way back, with the Bug fast asleep beside him, Jason gazed idly out the window of their car, watching the landscape whistle by.
As such, he wasn’t really paying attention when Henry pulled over abruptly - to help a biker on the side of the road.
Jason watched as his father, illuminated by the headlights of their car, walked over to the young man crouched beside his bike.
Jason couldn’t see the biker’s face, but he noticed that the man’s hover motorcycle - a nice Kawasaki XT-700 trail rider - was completely covered in a strange grey powder.
‘Need a hand, partner?’ Henry Chaser said into the darkness. ‘Or a ride?’
The biker waved him off. His riding leathers were also, Jason noticed, totally covered in the grey powder.
‘Nah. Just fixed it,’ the biker called. ‘Got some dust in the mag switches.’
Sure enough, he had fixed the problem. The young man’s bike hummed to life and he straddled the hover bike, reaching for his helmet.
And in that instant, Jason saw the young man’s face.
Then the hover bike raced off into the night, and Henry Chaser returned to the car, shrugging.
Jason, however, sat frozen in his seat.
He had recognised the biker.
It was Wernold Smythe, the clerk from the Race School’s Parts and Equipment Department.
‘Sounds like it’ll be a tough race,’ Henry Chaser said as he dropped Jason and Bug off at the Race School. Henry and Martha were going to stay at a caravan park in Hobart for a few days and watch Thursday’s big race.
Henry said, ‘Eight hours means a lot of pit stops - your Mech Chief is in for a long day. And stay away from those demon lights. Run over some of those and your race is over. And watch out for other drivers ramming you onto them. Oh, and Jason…’
‘Yes, Dad?’
‘Always remember the Bradbury Principle.’
‘Yes, Dad,’ Jason sighed. His father always said that. It was Henry Chaser’s contribution to sport: the Bradbury Principle. Jason ignored it and got serious: ‘What do you think about cutting the heel?’
‘Wouldn’t touch it,’ Henry said. ‘The pros rarely cut the heel in the Italian Run and for good reason: it’s a Venus fly trap: looks pretty and alluring from the outside, but it’ll just eat you up. It’ll put you either further behind or out of the running completely.’
‘That’s just what Mr Syracuse said,’ Jason said.
‘Scott Syracuse said the same thing?’ Henry said. ‘Oh! Of course - ‘ he cut himself off, chuckled.
‘What?’ Jason asked.
Henry Chaser smiled. ‘Scott Syracuse once tried to cut the heel in the Italian Run. It was the last time he raced the Italian Run; a few races later, he had that huge crash in New York that ended his career.
‘That time in Italy, Syracuse was way back in the pack because of a collision he’d had with another car, so he decided to try and cut the heel. Now, if you cut the heel in Italy, you can gain up to four whole minutes on the rest of the field. It woulda put him back in contention.’
‘And what happened?’ Jason asked.
‘Two hours later, the race was over and he still hadn’t come out,’ Henry said. ‘He didn’t emerge until four hours after the race, and even then, he came out the way he went in. Didn’t even find the way through. By the time he reached the Finish Line in Venice, they were dismantling the grandstands! No wonder he advises against cutting the heel.’
‘Yeah,’ Jason said, frowning. ‘No wonder.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
RACE 25
RACETIME: 4 HOURS 24 MINS
LAP: 11 [OF 20]
Race 25 was easily the most hard-fought race of the season so far.
No-one was giving an inch.
Those racers who hadn’t yet qualified for the Sponsors’ tournament were going all-out for the win. While those who had qualified were racing just as fiercely - they were well aware that if a pre-qualified racer won, it meant one less contender to deal with on Saturday.
The intensity of the racing was simply furious.
And at Lap 11, Jason was still in it.
After narrowly avoiding a wild three-car crash on Lap 2, he had stayed in touch with the early leaders - Xavier, Varishna Krishna (a tale
nted young racer from India) and Isaiah Washington - and now, after more than four hours of racing, he was well positioned in 4th place.
The ripple strips had caused chaos - if you took a turn too wide, you would edge over the top of them and suddenly your magneto drive levels would drain before your eyes.
The big crash on Lap 2 had been the direct result of the ripple strips, and it had taken out some of the contenders in this race.
It was Barnaby Becker’s fault.
He had slid out over the ripple strips flanking the tight hairpin near the pits. He had stayed over the demag strips for almost five seconds, enough to deprive all six of his magneto drives of nearly all of their power. Out of control, he had slid back across the track, collecting two other racers - among them Ariel Piper - on the way through, ending all of their races.
Ariel wasn’t pleased.
For his part, Jason felt he was handling the strips pretty well - not perfectly, but well. On any given lap, he might edge over a couple of them and lose a little bit of power. But judging by the similarity of their pit-stop schedules, it didn’t seem as if any of the other contenders were doing any better.
Significantly, no racer had attempted to use the short cut.
The leaders completed Lap 11, and flocked into the pits - Jason among them.
He swung into his bay and the Tarantula descended on the Argonaut from above, its arms bristling with magneto drives and coolant hoses.
Jason gulped down some energy drink, breathed hard. Their pit stops had been good in this race. Their mag drives and computer systems seemed okay -
And suddenly the Tarantula froze in mid-action. ‘No!’ Jason yelled.
Sally McDuff dived for the Tarantula’s console, started tapping keys. ‘The system’s crashed again! Damn!’ she yelled. ‘I have to reboot!’
She typed fast on the computer.
Jason snapped round - to see Krishna, then Washington and then Xavier zoom out of the pits, one after the other, rejoining the race.
‘Sally! Come on!’
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