Despite the high regard that the racing world had for the Taris swoop track, it was nothing special by circuit standards. Certainly one of the more difficult in the galaxy, it had strategically placed booster pads along the route as well as an unusually high amount of debris scattered along the track. As another unfortunate racer mistimed a shift and crashed, it quickly became obvious where all the debris came from.
Lethe Kast turned away from the view screens and watched as the mechanic made last minute adjustments to the swoop she was going to be using. The prototype accelerator now integrated into the bike was her best chance at winning. . .and dying. No matter how hard she had tried, she couldn't get the idea of an exploding engine out of her mind. She would just have to hope it didn't explode–at least not before she could get far enough away.
The truth was that she felt rather sick. After barely sleeping last night and being unable to keep anything down for breakfast–not to mention the healing wounds from the Vulkar base–Lethe was certainly not at her best. If she could, she would wait until she was healed, rested and confident in her own abilities. But there was a lot depending on this race and there was no other option. She needed to win in order to rescue Bastila and then find a way off of Taris before they were discovered by the Sith.
Lethe's stomach rolled again and she forced her nerves to settle down. There was too much at stake to lose focus. She was the only person that could do this, no matter how much she might protest. Never mind that the last time she had ridden a swoop she had ended up in a spectacular crash that nearly paralyzed her. Never mind that her best friend had died on that same track only moments later. Never mind that she was terrified of failing and then damning the whole Republic because she couldn't come through on one simple task.
Lethe grit her teeth and banished those thoughts of doubt to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to worry about her self-confidence issues. Carth was counting on her. And she would not let him down. Feigning self-assurance, she walked towards her swoop and pulled her helmet on. She could do this. She had to do this.
Once the bike was in place and she was seated upon it, Lethe clenched her jaw and focused straight ahead. She blocked out the offending noise of the spectators. She focused instead on the feel of the swoop beneath her, automatically interpreting the vibrations from the machine. Her eyes barely glanced at the gages on the swoop as her knuckles turned white. The seedy, underground world of Taris fell away until she was only aware of herself, the swoop, the track and the three signal lights ahead of her.
The moment that the green light had flashed she hit the acceleration. Despite her rusty skills and her complete reluctance, she was a natural swoop racer. While always keeping an eye on the bike's condition itself, she instinctively calculated the distance between booster pads and plotted courses that would successfully maneuver through the debris. She knew when to shift at the right moment and when she should skip a pad because it was too far off course. Her instincts had always served her well.
The brief moments of the race became only a blur as she rocketed across the finish and she eased back on the controls. Every misgiving and fear had disappeared as her subconscious took control of her reflexes. When her heat ended and Lethe took a conscious breath, she was almost shocked to realize that it was over. She had survived the race and with a leading time.
Lethe pried her hands off of the handles, wincing as she straightened out each finger. She climbed off of the bike, allowing the technicians to cart it back to the waiting area. When she finally had a moment to breathe, she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She told herself that she was fine. Every worry that had gone dormant at the start of the race, assaulted her once again and she pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart race within her.
"I better not have to do that again," she whispered, trying to calm herself. The swoop would be able to withstand another race, but she wasn't so sure that she would be able to.
Trailing behind the swoop, Lethe actually began to feel relief and almost lighthearted. She had faced her fears and succeeded. It was an enormous boost to her confidence and she looked forward to showing up at the apartment with Bastila in tow. In her mind, she would be greeted with shock and delight that she had succeeded. Bastila would say that she would never have been able to escape without her. Carth would praise her skills and her talent, all the while looking adoringly in her direction. Lethe would blush under all the congratulation and try to downplay her part in things, while inwardly glowing. At that moment, they would figure out a way to get off Taris and defeat Malak. And none of it would have been possible without her.
Lethe was rather violently shaken from her daydreams when the mechanic told her that her time had been beaten and she would have to race again. As if on cue, her stomach tightened and the nausea returned. Cursing furiously in her head, she took a moment to gather her wits and stare at Bastila. The woman needed her help. She would need to get through it.
Clenching her fists at her side, she stalked up to the race organizer and signed up for another heat. Her swoop was transported again to the starting line and she checked the strap on her helmet again. The mechanic was spouting off some cautionary advice in her ear, but she was too annoyed and nervous to pay much attention. She tried to remind herself that she had made it through the last one and that this would be no different.
Just as before, the outer world faded to her conscious mind as she became only aware of the swoop and the track. She sped forward when the light signaled the start and expertly wove through the course, easily exceeding the speeds of her last run.
As the end of the course drew closer, she became more aware of the state of the swoop she was riding. Her eyes glanced down to take in the gages and immediately widened. Everything was redlining and starting to fail. The bike shuddered and the acrid smell of burned wiring came to her nose as smoke began to billow out of the engine. It was overheating. Lethe could see the finish drawing closer and she mentally calculated how long she had. The swoop became harder to control as it began to break down. She fought to keep the bike steady as she blasted over another booster pad.
The added speed proved to be too much for the swoop. The exact moment that she screamed over the finish line, Lethe threw herself from the bike. The swoop exploded an instance later, the engine fried and the machine nothing more than a twisted heap of metal that sailed into a restraining wall before crumpling to the track, still smoking.
Lethe skidded along the ground, the helmet and leathers she wore protecting her somewhat. She rolled with the momentum as much as she could, trying to remember everything she had ever learned about what to do in a crash. She pulled upon her very will to protect her body from the harsh ground when she hit hard. With the wind knocked out of her, Lethe couldn't even move when she finally came to a halt, piles of flaming wreckage around her.
It was several long minutes that she lay there, dimly taking stock of her body. It would appear that she had miraculously not broken anything. The jump suit was in absolute shreds in certain areas, mainly around her right thigh–where she had first landed. The rest of her was certainly bruised and bloody, but her thigh was the worst. She slowly reached a hand up and pushed her helmet off so she could breathe easier, briefly noting that it was now cracked in half.
Voices were approaching and she managed a small smile when the mechanic shoved his head into her field of vision. Her head was pounding too much at the moment to understand what he was saying, but she could make a guess at it.
"I'm fine. . .I think. Actually, let me get back to you on that."
The mechanic laughed and reached down a hand to help her up. Lethe struggled to her feet, swaying once she was upright. Cheers rang in her ears from the other racers and the distant crowd, shouting their approval at her stunt. She dumbly raised her hand and gave a small wave of acknowledgment; she finally seemed to realize that she really was alive. And, what was more, she had gotten an unbeatable time.
Leaving the technicians and other track staff to worry about the bike, Lethe limped back to the starting area. She had won, fair and square–she had the injuries to prove it. Now all she wanted to do was get Bastila and get the hell off of Taris.
Of course, things were never as easy as she wanted them to be. When Brejik claimed that she cheated and refused to hand over the captive Jedi, Lethe knew she was going to have to fight her way out of the situation. Though her head throbbed, blood soaked her skin and hair and her leg threatened to give out at any moment, she grabbed two vibroblades and prepared to show Brejik her way. Swoop racing may not be her thing–but swords were.
Lethe shouted and batted Carth's hands away. "That fracking hurts!"
Carth ignored her attempts to avoid him and held her down with one hand. "Will you stop squirming! Of course it hurts, it's deep and half the skin is ripped away. If you don't hold still, I'll have to knock you out so I can treat it better."
Lethe bit her lip and shoved her face into the pillow on the bed she was laying on. Contrary to what her daydreams had suggested, nothing had gone smoothly. She fought Brejik and the others he had brought with him. Bastila had freed herself and fought Brejik as well. When they were all dead, Bastila and Lethe had actually fought over who had rescued whom. They had then quickly escaped–or at least as quickly as Lethe's injuries would allow. As soon as they entered the apartment, Carth had nearly assaulted Lethe with his worry and forced her to lie down.
Which lead to the current moment. Mission and Zaalbar, after greeting her with relief, now sat quietly at the table playing pazaak, trying to ignore the cries of pain coming from their friend. Bastila, after stealing some of Lethe's extra clothes, was meditating in the corner.
Lethe cried out again and tried to shove her face further into the pillow. Carth was trying to be as gentle as he could, but the wound on her thigh was extensive and they only had so many supplies. He had tried to convince her to go see the doctor, but Lethe wouldn't be surprised if there were some gang members lurking the streets, looking for her. Which meant they would be confined to their apartment, at least for the rest of the day.
It was several long minutes before Lethe realized that most of the pain had faded and only a slight ache remained. She could feel Carth's hands on her thigh, applying bandages to the wound. If she had been more coherent, she would have been acutely embarrassed that he was seeing so much of her skin. As it was, the motions were more soothing than anything and she was too tired to really care.
Slowly, she turned her head out of the pillow and let her eyes rest on the man bent over her, concentrating on healing her. A small smile came across her lips. Even though she had only known Carth for a short while, she was dangerously attracted to him. She might have to find another swoop track in the future, if only to get some similar attention from him.
Carth glanced over and noticed her eyes on him, blankly staring. "Lethe?"
Lethe blinked and shook her head. "What?"
Carth frowned and leaned closer to her. Her eyes widened as she watched him come closer, stopping inches from her face. He was staring intently at her and Lethe was more disconcerted than anything. "Wh-what?" He reached out and grasped her chin, carefully turning her head in either direction, his eyes always on hers. "Carth, what the hell are you doing?"
He sighed and finally let go of her. "I was trying to see if you had a concussion. I wouldn't be surprised, considering how hard you hit the ground, but it seems you might be okay. At least if you did, the symptoms have faded." He settled himself on the side of the bed, his face still a mask of concern. "I've done all I can, I'm afraid. I would feel a lot better if you went to the doctor."
Lethe shook her head. "Not tonight. There's too great a chance that someone will be looking for us with the intent to kill. Maybe tomorrow, but not now." She took a moment to yawn deeply. "Besides, I don't think I would be able to make it."
Carth shrugged resignedly. "Have it your way. You should sleep, you've had a rough day."
Lethe shook her head again. "No, there's too much to do. I'll sleep when I'm dead." She struggled to sit up but Carth forcefully pushed her back on the bed.
"You almost died today. Let me worry about everything for a while. You get some sleep, you need it."
Lethe frowned. "You already worry about everything."
Carth rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Rest, Lethe. No more riding swoops for you."
Lethe chuckled and let her head fall back on the pillow, closing her eyes. "No problem there." She felt herself begin to drift, listening to the soft sound of the others in the apartment. A blanket was draped over her and rough fingers gently brushed against her cheek. Then footsteps retreated from the bed, followed by the soft murmur of voices.
Lethe tried to keep from smiling. At least the aftermath of swoop racing has some bright points.
AN: I just wanted to thank everyone for all of your reviews! I appreciate everything you say and I especially like any constructive criticism you can give. Feedback is certainly the highlight of my day! Now, I know I've been offline for a while (thanks to no Internet access), but I'm back now. I discovered this gathering dust on my hard drive, so I decided to post it for your enjoyment. Depending on what you think, there might be two more installments with Tatooine and Manaan. So please leave me a review! Thanks again! Alexandra