Chapter 3

I spent much of the next fortnight wishing I was making coffee and passing spanners. Instead, I was involved in endless martial arts training, trying to tie in my newly acquired speed with the few moves I had.

The instructors realised very quickly that I didn't have the level of ability to become an all-encompassing combat machine. Instead, they concentrated on making sure I could carry out a limited set of moves very, very well. Generally those dependent on speed rather than strength.

"You'll never outlast a group of opponents," I was told. "You'll never overpower them. You have to finish them quickly, before their height and weight start to wear you down. And you have to make them think you have the same range of moves that Mark and Keyop have. You do this by executing those you do have, perfectly. Take your enemy out in three moves and it doesn't matter that you don't have another twenty. There are no points for variety here."

So I spent hour after hour refining my technique, pushing myself and my new physical capabilities to the limit. Much of the rest of the time I spent sleeping. The implant tricked the body into producing chemicals to make you faster, stronger, better coordinated. It did nothing about how tired you were after that much high speed physical activity.

Tiny was in a similar condition to me. Mark and Keyop weren't as physically exhausted, but they were expected to master protocols we'd spent eighteen months working on, in just one. They clearly considered being called in to spar with me as welcome relief from the pressure they were under.

Nine days in, Anderson called me into his office, and with no preamble told me that they wanted to change my birdstyle.

I was horrified. "But I like it. I like being the Swan."

Anderson smiled reassuringly. "You'll still be the Swan. Don't I remember someone saying swans should be white?"

That had been Don. I blinked back tears and forced myself not to react as Anderson continued.

"Tiny's going to be needed on the Phoenix most of the time, he's the only one who can fly it well enough now. You, on the other hand, are going to have to go out there. You have to be able to hold your own. Right now, your colours scream 'female' and you're going to be an instant target. You're not a good enough fighter to handle a group of male opponents on your own. You may never be."

I looked up unhappily. "I'm trying, Chief. I can work harder, improve…"

"You can't make yourself six feet tall. You'll never catch up ten-plus years of training on someone of Mark's talents. We know how hard you're working already. We're going to give you a little help."

He pushed a sketch across the table to be, and I regarded it in some horror. Discreet it wasn't. This was every bit as flashy as the Russian birdstyles, not me at all, and I said so.

"That's the idea," Anderson told me. "Someone catches a glimpse of you, they'll see white and red, and think it's Mark. Hopefully they'll hesitate at the thought of taking him on. It should give you a free shot. You just have to use it."

Either changing colours was very easy, or they'd only asked me as a courtesy. The following day I was training in white.

The last day of the fortnight, I scrambled frantically into the rec room having overslept. "Who's got the list? Where am I supposed to be?"

Mark was lounging on the sofa. "No list. We have the day off."

"What?"

"You remember holidays? Days when you do what you want, not what you're told? We got one." Tiny returned to looking in the fridge. "Keyop, did you finish the chocolate milk?"

A happy chocolatey face appeared from behind a comic. "Yes. It was great!"

Tiny growled, and made to chase him round the room. Keyop squealed, leapt straight over the back of the chair, and put Mark between himself and Tiny.

"Enough, already." I sagged into the sofa with exaggerated relaxation. "What are we going to do today? Mark, Keyop - you want to go visit something? You haven't exactly seen much since you arrived."

Keyop groaned. "Boring."

Mark didn't exactly look enthusiastic. "Princess, I'd love to, sometime when I'm not so tired. Right now I wouldn't appreciate it."

"I have a better idea," suggested Tiny. "I was talking to one of the Phoenix technicians yesterday. He's got a friend in the engineering division. I know where the ISO racing team hangs out. Let's go see Jason."

Tiny, as the only one of us with a valid US driver's license, was despatched to sweet-talk the ISO car pool and I ended up with an address and Autoroute. It wasn't difficult to locate, and was barely fifteen minutes drive away.

Tiny had no trouble getting a car, and shortly we were all piled in and I was reminding myself which side of the road they drove on here and trying to keep my directions legal. Turning right off a road with two carriageways still felt wrong.

A couple of miles up a smaller road and Tiny pulled off into a somewhat run-down-looking industrial park, with signs to the track further round.

"Unit 5," I told him.

Over on the left, a typical prefab light industrial building with a row of shutter doors along the front, one open with the nose of a car protruding and engine noises from within. 'ISO Racing' over the doors. Nobody visible.

I looked at Tiny for suggestions. "Should we just go in?"

"You go and ask for Jason. It's our best chance of springing him."

Mark frowned. "Just her?"

"Just her. Trust me."

I walked into the open bay and looked hopefully round for signs of life.

"You want the office?" said a voice from near my feet.

I looked around and spotted a pair of legs sticking out from under the car. "I guess so."

"Right-hand door in the end wall."

"Thanks," I said to the legs, and headed for the door, which opened disconcertingly in my face just as I got there.

"Can I help you, miss?" His eyes travelled appreciatively up and down me, and I tried not to flush. Why was it that total strangers always felt the urge to do this, but the one person I wanted to never did?

"I'm looking for Jason."

"Lucky guy." He pressed a button on the wall. "Hey, Jason, get yourself out here! Your girlfriend wants to talk to you."

The hole in the floor I so desired failed to appear, as Jason emerged from one of the other doors looking confused and rather oily. "I don't have…Princess! What are you doing here?"

The man who'd summoned him laughed tolerantly. "Take the day off and go and patch things up with her, kid. You're due a break. And you make a cute couple."

Jason's eyes blazed. Hating the charade, I simpered. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Jason, you want to get cleaned up?"

He disappeared back through the door, and shortly re-emerged minus the overalls and the dirt. I led the way out, trying to ignore the eyes on my back, and only when we were out of sight did he grab my hand.

"Princess - I wasn't expecting to see you! What's happened? Where's Tiny?"

I grinned at him. "We got the day off. Tiny drove us all out here. For some reason, he seemed to think I'd have a better chance of springing you on my own."

"Anyone would think he'd met them. He was right."

"So where are you staying?" I asked as we walked back to the car.

"I'll show you." He went straight to the driver's side. "Hi, guys. Miss me? Here, Tiny, let me drive."

Tiny moved over automatically, and only subsequently realised what he'd done. "Hey, Jase, you legal? I've signed for this car."

"Legal as you are. Not bad for a fortnight? Oh, vile - automatic."

"You have got picky." I opened the back door. "Move over, Keyop. There's loads of room."

For all his complaining, Jason drove us perfectly competently round behind the track into what I'd have called a caravan site but the sign described as a trailer park. He pulled up in front of a somewhat battered specimen and waited for a reaction.

Tiny was clearly struggling against a kneejerk 'trailer park' reaction. Mark and Keyop had no such cultural hang-ups.

"C…c…cool!" exclaimed Keyop. "It's yours?"

"All mine." Jason bubbled with enthusiasm. "I like it here. Come see!"

It was small, far from new, and much tidier than I'd anticipated. With five of us in there, it was desperately cramped. Tiny continued to look horrified, while Mark found himself a seat in the corner and Keyop explored the very limited selection of doors. I'd spent years of summer holidays with my entire family in a caravan little larger than this - while I wouldn't have wanted to live here myself, I could see the attraction to someone who'd never had space to call his own.

Jason succeeded in his quest to find five containers suitable for hot liquid, and boiled the kettle. "I only do coffee - take it or leave it. Just for once, I have milk. And cookies."

"So what have you been doing?" I asked as he handed mugs out.

"Getting my license. One hell of a lot of taking stuff apart, cleaning it and putting it back together again. Driving anything they'll let me loose on." All the old animation was back in his voice. "I can't wait to get my hands on that car they're putting in the nose of the Phoenix. You?"

I groaned. "Martial arts. More martial arts. And for variety…no, wait, there hasn't been any."

"Me too," said Tiny. "In between teaching Mark how a real ship handles."

"Keyop and I have a lot of procedures to learn," Mark said. "We may even have them all straight by the end of the month."

Jason raised his eyebrows. "You better. You need to be ready to go by then. We all do."

Keyop stiffened. "We'll be ready. Will you?"

"Why, you little…Someone needs to teach you some manners. You better hope it isn't me."

Tiny elbowed Keyop in the ribs, hard, and changed the subject. "So, Jason, what do you think of the upgrades? You had much of a chance to work with them?"

Jason indicated out of the window. "There's a lot of space out beyond the track where nobody ever goes. I've been practising." He looked sideways at Mark. "Next time you'll get a real fight. So, who wants to come see the track?"

There was a general draining of mugs, and we followed a bubbling Jason to the top of the bank overlooking the end curve of the track.

"We're not testing today," he replied to a question from Tiny. "I doubt they'd have let me off if we were. There's a few other teams based here, we get different times allocated. Tomorrow…" The rest of his sentence was lost in a wall of dust and noise as a car shot past below us.

"Wow - that was fast!" I spluttered.

Jason looked surprised. "You think so? I drive faster than that, and I'm not quick enough to even test our cars seriously. Yet."

"Do the implants help?" Mark asked.

Jason's expression froze. "Anderson made it very clear that if anyone so much as suspects that my reflexes aren't entirely my own, I'll be on the first plane back to Sydney. I don't use the implants when I drive."

"But that super-car they're putting in the Phoenix…" I started.

"That's different. That's business. Using the implants to race would be no better than taking drugs. I'm no cheat."

Mark looked startled. "You plan to race? Does Anderson know?"

"I do hope Anderson doesn't think he can dictate how I spend my free time." Jason rounded on him. "You'd better not try it, either."

Mark put both hands up. "I only meant…"

"You want to be Anderson's good little student, you go right ahead. Don't you dare let that involve reporting back to him about me. Is that why you're here?"

I tensed, ready to jump between them, but Mark just turned and walked away.

"I think we'd better go." Tiny took Keyop by the shoulder and turned him down the slope. "Princess, you coming?"

"Just a minute." I waited until they'd moved out of earshot.

"Jason - Anderson didn't send us. He doesn't even know we're here."

"Yeah, well, he's about to, isn't he? After the lecture I got on secrecy, you think he'll let me do something where my name might get noticed? He's quite happy for me to kill myself driving his damn super-car, but something I enjoy? Not a chance."

"Did he say that? Because I think you've wound yourself up over a problem that doesn't exist. Anderson sent you here, remember? He knows you need experience driving against other people." I stopped at his reaction. "You have to stop flinching every time someone says his name. He's head of the project, Jason. He's not going away."

"And if it wasn't him it'd be Grant instead." Jason put on his best mock English accent. " 'Every cadet I've ever known could tell the difference between interior and exterior explosion damage.' Yeah, right. Once they'd been shown the signs. So can I, now. Hindsight's just great." He sat down, arms round his knees, the anger gone. "Damn, I just screwed up, didn't I?"

I nodded. "Mark stood up to Anderson for you. He's the one who got Ivanov involved. He'd make a good second-in-command for you, if you can work together."

Jason pulled his bracelet from his pocket and sat there looking at it, and I took the hint and wandered back towards the car.

When I reached it, Mark was nowhere in sight. Tiny was sitting behind the wheel, and raised his eyebrows in a question.

"Talking to Mark - I hope."

"I don't know why Mark bothers." Keyop was flushed and still furious - I belatedly noticed that Tiny had locked the doors from the inside. Not that that would stop a determined Keyop, but he'd have to be prepared to do damage to get out.

I put my hand on the handle and stared at Tiny until he took the hint, opened the back door, sat beside Keyop, and looked him right in the eyes. "I'm going to say this once and once only, Keyop. You will stop winding Jason up. You will stop being rude - in any language. And you will stop criticising Mark for behaving like a decent human being. It's immature, and G-Force can't use children. If you want a team place, you stop acting your age and start behaving like you deserve it." I held eye contact, and thankfully his gaze dropped before I lost my nerve.

"Now what do we do?" Tiny asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"With any luck, lunch." I pointed towards the track, where two figures were approaching us.

"I hope you're right." Tiny stuck his head out of the window. "Hey, Jason, anywhere round here with edible food?"

"As it happens, there is. Don't you ever think about anything else?"

"Princess wanted to know!"

Jason laughed out loud. "That's weak even for you, Tiny. Lucky for you there's enough people working round here for them to open the café weekdays as well as racedays."

I grinned at Tiny's affronted expression. "Reputations. Don't you just love them."

Jason was obviously a regular patron of the little track café. The owner greeted him cheerfully by name, expressed delight at seeing him with friends, and told him he was too thin and should eat more. Jason, to my astonishment, accepted this with equanimity, snagged a menu from the counter and we bagged a big table in the corner just ahead of a bunch of giggling co-workers from the beauty salon next door.

"You let her tell you that? I heard what you said to the ISO nutritionist who told you just the same!" Tiny queried, wide-eyed.

"How did you hear that?"

"I was waiting outside at the time - you were kinda loud."

"Maria's Italian. She found out I am too and now feeding me up's her pet project."

"But you're Australian." Mark frowned.

"And you're Polish going on Russian, or is it American? Heritage still matters. Even if all I have left of mine is the name. Anyway, she's a good cook, prices are low and I hate cooking for myself."

Keyop was scanning the menu ecstatically. "I want to try everything!"

"Well, it might make you grow." Tiny seemed to be considering it seriously. "And it would give me an excuse."

Keyop growled, and jumped on him.

"Hey!" Mark steadied the table, and Jason and I separated the two of them.

"I'd like to be able to come back - can we leave the place in one piece?"

We walked out almost an hour later more a team than we'd been yet. We'd even got to the point of having an argument without Jason blowing up. He and Mark were still in heated discussion over the benefits of various martial arts styles.

"Look, I'll show you," Jason finally suggested. "All that waste ground behind the track - there's nobody to see."

"You're not using the implants," Tiny stated flatly. "It's not safe in civilian clothes, and I don't care how secluded it is, you can't use birdstyle."

"Don't need it. Demonstration works better slow anyway. Come on, Mark - are you afraid I'm right?"

"Hardly."

Keyop groaned and put a hand to his stomach. "Is it far? I ate too much."

"Don't say we didn't warn you." Jason looked round, mischief in his eyes. "Maybe we should have that match now."

Keyop regarded him in horror, and belatedly realised he was being wound up. "No fair."

"I didn't force you to have that second bowl of ice-cream." Jason stopped at the edge of what looked like nothing more than a bomb crater. "This is where I normally practise."

"Whatever made this?" Tiny asked.

"I don't know - collapsed cellar? There's old foundations all over here. It's out of sight, the floor's flat and not concrete. Suits me fine." He leapt easily to the lower level. "Come on, Mark. You think Spectra are going to give you time for a ten minute warmup?"

Mark stretched deliberately and jumped down to join him. "What I can do, and what I prefer to do, aren't necessarily the same. Half speed."

Keyop flopped down beside me as we watched them put theory into practise. "Sorry."

I jumped a mile. "For what?"

"Being mean. I hate it when people t…tease me. I shouldn't do it to Jason."

I considered briefly. It sounded sincere enough. "Joking's OK - at the right time. You know when you're going over the line. By the way, you're talking much better."

"Stress makes it bad. Strangers make it worse." He shrugged. "You're not strangers now, and English is getting easier. I avoid the hard words, and it's not so bad."

"And the conclusion is?" Tiny called out as the two combatants gave up.

"That we're too lazy to put it to the test properly today." Mark stretched out on the grass and closed his eyes. "Day off, remember? I'm too tired to concentrate."

He wasn't the only one. It was pleasantly warm, the grass was soft, and we were out of the wind. I followed his example, lay back and watched the few clouds scud across my field of vision. I could hear the cars on the track, and more distantly, traffic on the roads, but basically it was peaceful here. Very, very different from my hectic schedule at ISO. Calming, relaxing, and oh so soporific.

There was a hand on my shoulder. "Princess, wake up."

"Mmm. Not now."

"Sorry, Princess." The grip tightened. "We have to get back."

I sat up abruptly, nearly cracking heads with Mark in the process. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Couple of hours. You looked like you needed it."

I bristled. "I'm fine, thank you."

"I've seen your training schedule this past fortnight. I wouldn't have fancied it. Anyway, I'm tired too. Right now I'm for home, dinner and bed. Tomorrow we'll be back to work."

"Shame," Jason said from behind me. "Tomorrow there's races here."

Tiny laughed. "You really are hooked, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Your point?"

"Well, it would be good if you come back in a fortnight."

"With the car I've been promised? I'm coming back."

I looked at my watch. "If we're going to get that pool car back, we really must go now. Jason - take care."

"Driving fast's far more fun. I'll see you in a fortnight."

"Well, he's better than he was," Tiny said as we exited the park. "As long as nobody mentions the 'A' word."

I winced. "You noticed that?"

"It was kinda obvious. I hope he can get it under control, because Anderson's going to be all over him when he comes back."

"Why Anderson?" Mark asked.

Tiny and I looked at each other in some embarrassment. Finally I said, "Jason was pretty much his star student before you showed up. Anderson switched allegiances to you very publicly, and Jason resents it. That's my theory, anyway."

Mark sagged back into his seat. "Oh. No wonder he hates me."

"Jason likes you just fine," Tiny told him. "Like Princess said, it's Anderson he's got the problem with." He quickly changed the subject. "So what do you think we'll be doing next? More of the same?"