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Excitement sizzled like a live wire throughout the cozy entertainment room. A large viewing screen had been set up, taking up nearly the length of an entire wall. The royal family gathered around, along with several close-knit friends with whom Jessie was still getting acquainted, while yet more filed in.
The entire kingdom—nay, the entireworld—would be glued to their screens today.
Jessie glanced around in search of her fiancé. Rayu, a high-ranking member of the guard, stood next to Orik, chatting and laughing and sipping ale. Although he and Orik were friends and had been for a long time, Rayu was apprehensive about Jessie and Orik’s relationship, though his reservations were only evident in his aura. Unfortunately, his sentiment was shared by others. It would take time for the dragons to see her as more than just a witch. Jessie understood that. And while they didn’t like what she was, to their credit, they did make an effort to be cordial to her. It was only a matter of time before she won them all over entirely. She just had to be her totally awesome self.
Jessie crossed the room and threaded her fingers through Orik’s. He smiled at her and then brought her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. His liquid gaze and the flair in his aura telegraphed his desire to be alone with her in that moment, but now was not the time, regardless of how her body lit up under the heat of that look. She gave him a teasing smirk, then turned to greet Rayu. In return, he offered her a respectful nod.
“Are they about to start?” she asked of no one in particular.
Before either man could answer, they were joined by Tristan and June who, like much of the crowd, simmered with anticipation. “Any moment now,” Tristan replied.
What was with all the hubbub? Certainly not her wedding to Orik, which was to occur in a few weeks’ time.
“Most the contestants have been locked in,” someone announced from across the room. For the last several minutes, the screen had been cycling through a litany of stats: names, faces, bios, etc.
No, this excitement was drummed up by the promise of good old-fashioned sport. A race, to be exact, called Phase Nine, designed to span a huge portion of the universe. A potentially deadly race.
“I can’t believe your mother allowed Prince Lear to participate,” June said.
Tristan’s brother had joined the Legura-sponsored crew. He’d been gone for several months, preparing, and had only met his new sister-in-law, June, via intergalactic transmission. As of yet, Jessie had not made his acquaintance at all. Not because he disapproved of her, but because he and his fellow crewmates were busy scrambling to get everything ready for the start of the race.
“Lear is only there for the ride,” Tristan remarked. “It’s Aidan who will need to pull off a win and keep his crew alive in the process.”
According to Orik, Aidan, the team’s captain, was not only a great pilot, but was a dragon like them, although he hailed from an entirely different planet within their solar system. Jessie had been amazed to hear there weretwoinhabited planets that shared the same solar system, both populated by dragons. Remarkable. However, Aidan was now considered a member of the Okora clan and raced in the name of Legura. Orik had promised to regale her with the whole story later.
“Do people really die in this race?” Jessie asked.
“Oh, aye,” Orik replied. “Sometimes by the hand of other contestants.”
Both she and June appeared aghast. “That’s really allowed?”
“It’s dishonorable and frowned upon, but some doona care.
Rayu added, “It’s a despicable way to play, but there’s bound to be several acts of sabotage, subterfuge, and head-on battles. Right fun to watch, though.”
Orik side-jabbed him with an elbow. “No’ if they go after our team. It’s common knowledge that Aidan has previously won Phase Nine. He’ll be seen as a threat from the get-go. Seems to reason he’ll be a target.”
“Maybe no’,” Tristan groused. “At such short notice, we were unable to provide them with a better ship. Aidan insisted on purchasing a smaller ship for the speed advantage in lieu of one of our warships. Unfortunately, the options were limited. I just hope he and Lear aren’t laughed off the circuit.”
“Why would anyone risk their lives just to win a race?” Jessie asked.
“It’s no’ just a race,” Tristan replied. “There used to be a lot more warring among spacefaring nations, empires either trying to tear each other apart for fear of being overthrown by more advanced civilizations, or simply squabbling over resources. Now many conflicts are resolved on the course before they even begin.”
“How so?”
“Imagine going to war with a nation without fully understanding their military might and they turn out to be better equipped than you,” Tristan explained. “Entire legions could be lost in a single devastating battle. Now imagine the nation you considered doing battle with shows off their prowess in a slightly less disastrous fashion, for instance, a race, and you are able to determine that their might is greater than yours. You’d be more likely to foster peace than war, no?” He paused while she nodded. “Conversely, imagine you are a vulnerable nation with little resources and a small army. You might endeavor to put as much stock into a single racing ship as you could to make it appear as though you’d have the advantage if someone were to come sniffing for a fight. For many years, Phase Nine has been used to settle disputes by way of competition and to show off the superiority of one’s technological advancements. The winning nation might find new and eager trade partners or greater access to resources in exchange for technology.”
Orik added, “Some people race simply for the accolades. A fast pilot could have his pick of high-ranking positions anywhere in the universe. A proficient gunman would be sought after like the rarest gem. Any who make it to the final three often find their lives significantly improved, if they so choose.”
Jessie turned toward the viewing screen with renewed interest.
Armina spaceport, Phase Nine starting line
Armina Spaceport was bustling. A group of rambunctious fans flew past Aidan on their way to gawk at the newest arrival, an upgraded freighter boasting a twelve-man crew.
Phase Nine was soon to begin, the minutes counting down. Enthusiastic crowds had gathered, vying for contestants’ attention, autographs, pictures. On live feeds, announcers broadcast dossiers of registered racers, ship stats, crew accolades or lack thereof, and made predictions. Bookies were about in droves, taking bets on everything from the potential winners and losers to the first contestant to die.
The hangar was populated by an array of eclectic vessels: fighters, freighters, cruisers, tankers. You name it, someone was going to try and race it.
