Chapter Twenty

The heavy blaster pistol fired a red bolt of energy that screamed into the sky. Each and every one of the fifty speeders lurched forward, beings releasing their braking systems and allowing their vehicles loose. Engines roared as cyclic gearing increased engine output, thrusters screamed as small additional power plants added more velocity and all the vehicles got off to a clean start.

A dust cloud rose behind the racers as they left the starting point. Skeet felt a little strange when he considered the fact there were no spectators to see them off, but he knew that this wasn’t meant for public viewing. This was for the racers who wished to prove they had what it took to complete a hard, gruelling course. To prove they could do it.

As Skeet poured on the thrust a small snippet of an old conversation seeped into his mind.

Come on, Brey. If it’s so great then whose going to know you’re good at it if you don’t tell anyone?

Skeet could see Brey Yard, sat opposite him in the bar overlooking the racetrack on Raca City, that cocksure smile on his face. He had been so excited to get his entry into this race, to prove he could do it. At first he couldn’t understand it. Why would someone risk life and limb to win a race no one would ever know about?

But now he was in the cockpit of this speeder, shooting at amazing speeds along the rocky surface of Tatooine, competing against some of the finest racers the galaxy had to offer. He was going to need every skill he had ever learned to outpace every one of them, to avoid every obstacle thrown into his path. It was a continuous test of his skill as a racer.

That was why he was here. That was why he was racing. The Tatooine Ten Thousand was a release for all those dreams and desires.

To race.

He quickly braked and swung his vehicle over as another racer in a closed top vehicle tried to cut him off. He swung over behind the speeder, forcing another racer who was coming up fast to swerve, and hit the accelerator. He started to slip up the side of the closed top vehicle, and by the time he was noticed he had added an extra burst of power and had overtaken.

The first two thousand was going to be tricky, he knew that. Many of the racers were jockeying for position, knowing that after the two thousand kilometres were covered they would have to veer off in their designated direction onto the circular route. It would be best if he could get over to the right of the corridor, where speeders with the blue tokens would also be turning. If he had to cut across the left-turning racers to head in the right direction it could prove disastrous and it was obvious that some of the heavier vehicles had been built to resist collisions. He slapped his token with the route information on it into a small data reader and it showed the circuit on a shimmering holographic readout.

“Can you see that, Enneight?” he shouted over the noise.

“I can, sir. I will inform you of any possible corridor deviation.”

The speeder lurched as another racer careered into him, a small vehicle with an oversized thruster attached to the rear. Skeet was thrown in his seat as he fought to regain control. He looked over to see a small alien with a tall head smiling over at him. Skeet looked down at the dent in the left of his nose and then smiled back.

Enneight watched Skeet’s reaction and had already ascertained his response to the attempted blindside.

“Sir, I would advise against...”

Skeet twisted his controls over and slammed his already dented speeder into the smaller craft. The alien yowled and pulled back on his yoke, wrenching the vehicle away from Skeet’s larger speeder. He dropped back, smoke spewing from his engine compartment, which was then covered in a white powder from internal fire suppressers. The smaller landspeeder piled on more power and started to give chase.

“What was that, Enneight?” Skeet shouted.

“Nothing. I was merely going to advise against further damage this early in the race.”

“Sorry, Enneight,” Skeet said, looking at his rear view monitor and watching the smaller speeder drop back. “I guess that’s just my competitive side shining through.”

“Indeed.”

Skeet swung the vehicle over into an area of he racing speeders that was largely unoccupied. He fell into a set speed and watched for any further attempts at sabotage. He could see the speeders around him had already spread out quite far, each one throwing up a high trail of sand as they churned up the ground below them with the power of their repulsors. He was about halfway down the group, probably in about twentieth place, he guessed. He decided he would have to start navigating his way across to the left side of the field so that he wouldn’t have any problems with cutting up other racers.

Above them several starships flew, some with lower ramps lowered so that beings could lean out and record the race with hand-held holo-recorders. They stayed very high, not interfering with the racers, and followed the progress as the race began.

Skeet shifted his speeder over and started moving across the field.

It took just over six hours for the first of the racers to reach the point where the two groups of twenty-five racers would split off into two different directions to start their circular course. Skeet had managed to get far enough over without any other incidents to be comfortable with his position. He hadn’t seen anyone else suffer any collisions or witnessed any drops from the race so he guessed that all that had started were still on course.

He quickly checked his map and saw that he was less than five kilometres from the direction change. Vehicles far ahead were already turning into the course and it would very soon before he also had to turn. As the designated area loomed closer he nudged his speeder over.

A vehicle to his right suddenly flew across his nose, the racer obviously realising too late that he was meant to be turning left. Skeet slammed on his braking thrusters, sluing over to avoid a collision. A speeder behind him also braked as he did, twisting left to avoid Skeet. The speeder heading right panicked and accelerated, trying to outdistance any potential collision.

As Skeet levelled out so did the speeder behind him. The Gran in the second speeder, a three-eyed alien with a snout that terminated in a flat mouth, roared his frustration at the culprit racer and gave a blast from a high-pitched siren to inform him of his displeasure. Skeet just shouted something nasty and settled back onto his course.

The Gran had the more powerful speeder and a higher top speed, running pace from Skeet’s point of view considering the speed he was at. He eased off the power, seeing the land ahead slope down and into a narrow pass that one speeder would be lucky to fit through. He didn’t want a collision and he wasn’t going to fight the heavier speeder for position.

He knew, as he exited the small pass and applied more thrust, that the first two thousand kilometres were over. Now he would have to be wary and watch his position.

And his life.