It’s symbolic, the same way that starting and ending the season on Earth is symbolic. Earth was humankind’s first home, the place all their roots are, the place they came from. Luna was the first location humans permanently settled beyond Earth, back when they still just called it “the Moon.” Luna was their first step out into the vast wilds of space, so Luna holds a place of honor in the season schedule.
Mare Imbrium—the Sea of Showers, one of the large, flat plains on Luna formed by volcanic activity however many millennia ago—is an easy trip for Clarke and the Elemental team, less than an hour on a suborbital flight. It’s not their home track (that’s Copernicus Crater, already over and done with this season), but races on the same planet where a team is headquartered are always busier than elsewhere, and this is no exception. The schedule is packed with events that pair Clarke and Matthew up with the two pilots from the other Luna-based team, Bright Door, or pilots who are Lunar by birth, like Thierry. They have a full day on Thursday, and Naomi only lets them go reluctantly for Friday’s practice session.
The first practice back from mid-season break is always interesting. Some teams will debut serious modifications to their ships. Some ships won’t perform well after the forced hiatus. At least one of the teams at the bottom of the bracket will have made personnel changes.
Harkoner Racing does all three at Mare Imbrium. Their ships look completely overhauled, one of them belches smoke when the pilot tries to open throttle, and their brand-spanking-new support team clearly has no idea what to do about it.
“Not a good day to be Harkoner,” Matthew comments mildly, watching the misbehaving ship get towed back to the pit lane.
“Is it ever a good day to be Harkoner?” Clarke asks. They’re sitting outside the Elemental garage, enjoying the first five unscheduled minutes they’ve had since Wednesday. “Not that we really have a leg to stand on.”
“We had legs today!”
Clarke totters her hand back and forth in midair. “I’ll give you one leg, and maybe half of another.”
Elemental’s practice session was good, mostly. The last few upgrades and fixes the team was testing over break are in place. There’s still inexplicable shimmy in the aft fuselage, and understeer for any curve over forty degrees, and power degradation when ascending on a bank, but as long as nothing new goes wrong—
Hah. Clarke’s not naive enough to finish that thought.
“Yeah, you might be right about that,” Matthew says. He looks around, like he’s checking to see if anyone’s listening, then scooches a little closer to Clarke. “I’d feel more like we had two whole legs if our lineup was set for next year. No movement on your contract, still?”
That’s the other reason the first post-break practice tends to be dramatic: The normal window for publicizing contract decisions for the following year is closed. There were four other pilots with contracts expiring this year, and all but one of them announced extensions (or, in one case, a retirement and handing over of the seat to a new kid) in the past few weeks. Any team or pilot could choose to break a supposedly set contract at any time, of course, but as far as known-unsecured seats go it’s just Clarke and Rafferty St. Sebastian from Enclave now, and suddenly everyone’s got opinions about their paths forward.
She’s been given a scripted answer to repeat to anyone who asks, and she’s already sick of saying it. She’s sick of hearing Yves’s version, too, which implies that Clarke’s being uncompromising in negotiations. They’re not eveninnegotiations yet, because Elemental has to offer her a contract before there’s anything to negotiate, and that hasn’t happened.
Rhynn, Clarke’s manager, is furious about how Elemental’s handling this and itching to let other teams know that Clarke’s on the market. Clarke’s still resisting shining a light on the writing on the wall, wants to see what happens this weekend and at the next couple races, but she’s holding on to that with her fingernails.
She’s in a truly wonderful mood for her first session with Julian.
“No,” she says to Matthew, then stands when she sees Sara walking their way.
Matthew scowls. “I can’t believe they’re making you do this. It’s bullshit.”
Matthew doesn’t know the details, but he knows the outline. He’s two years into a three-year contract, probably wondering if Yves is going to pull the same hardball crap when it’s his turn towork through renewal. Probably wondering if he made a mistake accepting Yves’s offer, especially considering that the team he left, Enclave, is doing well this year.
“It is,” Clarke agrees, before giving Sara and her cameras a bright smile. “Time to go?”
“Time to go,” Sara confirms. “Got everything you need?”
“I don’t know what I need. You still haven’t told me where we’re going or what we’re doing.” Clarke sticks her head into the garage, waits until Amira sees her and gives an acknowledging wave that she’s leaving.
“That’s part of the fun. Don’t worry, I’ve got an outfit for you.”
Clarke looks down at herself. She’s in every pilot’s unofficial off-track uniform: joggers and a light hoodie, both team-branded, and a pair of sneakers she’s being paid to wear in public. “This won’t work?”
Sara laughs at her.
—
“This is nota good idea.”
Sara swishes her fingers. The cameras move in sync. “Tell me why.”
“No, Sara, I—I’m not saying that for the cameras. This isnota good idea.”
Sara looks at her impassively.
Clarke sighs and pulls her sweatshirt off. Sara will just have to edit this out later, assuming they get any usable footage at all and don’t have to scrap the whole thing. “If the point of this is to show people that we’re friends, setting us up to fight each other is not the way to do it.”
