Page 151 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

151

Dirty Tricks

B raveheart

Willow backed the vehicle up, had Valor and I remove metal plates in the floor that had been hidden under centuries of blowing sand, and then drove the vehicle back over the exposed hole in the floor. The three of us are under the car in the hole that had been excavated here long ago.

The drones keep trying to sneak in to record us, but between Valor and me, we bat them away at Willow’s request.

We’re crouched on the ground in the dim light, following her instructions as she uses some of the tools we found to tighten things under what she insists on calling a car.

“How lucky we found a couple old sets of coveralls under here of all places,” she says. “Although we could have cut up our clothes, I think we would have been in big trouble for it. Besides, it would have tipped our hand.”

“Now’s the time to tell us,” Valor says in his calm voice. “I’d like to know what we’re doing, and I really want to know how you seem to understand these… antiques.”

She takes a deep sigh, puts down her rusty tool, and in the dim light that’s peeking under the bottom of the car, she looks first at him, then me.

I’ve been on high alert all day. Something doesn’t feel right here. And it certainly doesn’t smell right. Everything has an abrasive smell that offends my nose. For the first time since we walked off the hover, I see the love shine in Willow’s pretty blue eyes. Even in the near darkness, I’m captured by her irises. They’re the color of the ocean on a calm day.

Valor and I are crouched, our hands still performing the task she asked us to complete. Our eyes, though, are focused on her.

Our mindlink feels strong, invincible, unbreakable. Our love connection gives me hope.

“These antiques, as you call them, are what we use on Earth to move from place to place. We’re backward compared to most planets. We don’t have hovers.

“In addition to using these as transportation, we race these things. There are ways to soup them up.” When she sees my eyebrow raise in question, she explains, “Make them go faster by making them more aerodynamically sound, fiddling with the engines, tampering with the fuel to increase its compression ratio. We won’t be able to do that here. I don’t have the parts or the tools or the time.”

Valor and I just keep staring at her. She’s explained nothing.

“My dad used to race cars. He wasn’t at the national level. Just raced street cars at local races. He’d take a car straight off the factory line and tinker with it to make it go. Then he’d ride around and around a track to see who was the fastest.”

I’ve seen Willow in many moods, mostly terror, but last night was love. I’ve never seen this emotion. Sheer excitement. Exhilaration.

“Cars were his life, and because they were his life, they became mine.” She shrugs. “I was a daddy’s girl. I followed him everywhere. I wanted to race, just like him, although it wasn’t a women’s sport. There were very few female drivers. And by its very nature, it’s dangerous. People died doing it. So my dad forbade it.”

I don’t need our link to feel her sadness.

“My brothers raced, but I didn’t. Of course, I’ve taken many laps around the track, but never at top speed. Mostly, the closest I got to the cars was wrenching.”

It takes another pair of raised eyebrows for her to explain, “Mechanicking. I was pretty good for my age. A few other drivers tried to poach me from my dad, but of course, I said no.”

“So you know how to drive?” Valor asks.

“Not just how to drive, but how to drive fast ,” she replies.

“And what we’re doing down here? It’s obviously secret, but why are we doing it?” I ask.

“I was the youngest of three kids. I spent many evenings watching vids with the family, often on my daddy’s lap. He was a racer. We watched every racing vid ever made from Le Mans to the entire Fast and Furious franchise—at least everything that was made before my abduction.”

She knows Valor and I have no idea what she’s talking about. I assume she’ll get to the point soon.

“I’ve watched The Game Down to One and Down to Two. I have a feeling this race is going to be closer to Death Race than The Love Bug . I may not be able to make this car go faster. There just isn’t time for that. But I can drive faster than any of the other nine teams who literally don’t know where the gas pedal is. And I can prepare for all the dirty tricks that will help us win.”

She sniffs, raises her arm, and returns to “wrenching” as she calls it.

“I’m in charge of driving. You two are in charge of dirty tricks.”

She sounds like she knows what she’s doing, and I have to admit, I’d rather be the one delivering the dirty tricks instead of receiving them.