As the transport geared up for its leap to hyperspace Qui-Gon initiated conversation. "Come Master Possible," at Kim's confused look he sighed and explained. "We need to suit you up as a pod jock. And you haven't seen your Pod yet."
Qui-Gon walked with Kim to the brig. "This is the pod," Qui-Gon gestured to a rusty hunk of junk. "You may need to fix it up a bit," he said with a smile.
"A little? I'll just build a new one from scratch, it would be easier," Kim complained as Qui-Gon led her to her bunk for the duration of the journey.
"I do hope you like black. It was the only jumpsuit the temple had in stock. They don't get many requests for pod jumpsuits. Tell me how it fits later," Qui-Gon said with a grin, Kim could tell this wouldn't bode well.
When Kim put on the jumpsuit she knew why Qui-Gon had been grinning. The jumpsuit was skintight; it left nothing to the imagination.
"I'm going to fix the pod," Kim told Qui-Gon, after a fierce glare. "this might take until the Vinta Harvest Classic just to repair it."
The old Quadrijet 4 Barrel 904E was a piece of work. The power couplings needed work, there were holes in the body, no cockpit what so ever, and the engines required a full overhaul. Kim grabbed a hydrospanner and a fusion welder. The work was hard but was for a good reason.
When Qui-Gon pulled her away for dinner most of the work was done. "All I need is a cockpit and to tighten the energy binders, they looked slightly wobbly. And some paint wouldn't go amiss."
After a quick dinner with her "manager" and some talk about the pod Kim decided to paint it now. A deep blue black was the best color in the transport's cache of paints, unless pink or chartreuse would have worked better.
Kim loaded the paint into the sprayer. "Why do they keep pink and chartreuse in a transport ship?" she mumbled to herself. While spraying Kim thought of a name for the pod. "Something fast…cheetah…then I need to speckle it. Shark? No this isn't a water vessel. I've got it the Cobra."
Kim wasn't tired so she went on a scrounging mission. In the refuse heaps of the garage she found a pod cockpit. It was actually in great condition compared to the rest of the pod. A rather large dent was the only hitch. After another hour of extricating the dent, another of painting the cockpit, and one more of adjusting it Kim began to feel tired.
She went to her bunk and fell asleep before her head hit the pillow. It was barely three hours later when Qui-Gon interrupted another very good dream, almost the same as her last one. "We're on Tatooine. It's the Mos Espa Open tonight. Are you ready?"
"No. I got maybe three hours rest," a grouchy morning person, coincidentally named Kim answered.
"Well have some energy drinks at the cantina. I'll sign you up for the race," Qui-Gon said walking away.
Kim left the transport a while later. She had on the only appropriate attire: the pod jumpsuit. Kim felt embarrassed and a bit uneasy without her lightsaber; the only consolation was a blaster pistol on her hip.
In the cantina was busy and Kim sat at the bar. She ordered a stimcaf and a Corellian noale. Drinking the ale and stimcaf led to a more awake Kim Possible.
Leaving the cantina Kim perused junk shops and picked up a few useful items. Kim hoped her pod was up to the challenge of the race. If Jim and Tim were here they could fix up the pod so much it might hit lightspeed. Kim thought, thinking of her sixteen year old brothers (AN: Thanks to Sacred White Phoenix for Jim and Tim's age.)
When the evening rolled around Kim was ready for the race. She readied herself as the pod was put on the starting line with the other racer's pods. Kim began to fidget a little.
Qui-Gon gave her a lecture. "Don't center on your anxieties, Possible. Keep your concentration here and now, where it belongs. Remember, concentrate on the moment. Feel, don't think. Use your instincts."
"I got it. And its Kim. Not Possible." Kim grinned and hopped into the cockpit. "Oh and I'm going to have some words for you about this get up," Kim yelled over the roar of the engines.
Kim didn't listen to the announcer prattling on. She was readying herself mentally for the race. A stray thought of Ron popped in but was quickly put away for later. The count down began. As the light neared the bottom of the vid screen the audience chanted "FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE!"
"GO!" Kim whispered this to the engines as the audience's shouts rose above the whine of engines.
Little did she know that Ron was thinking about her at the moment.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Ron Stoppable sat in the stands as he watched Kim's first pod race. She didn't know he was here, nor would she, until later. His heart leapt to his mouth seeing her in a tight jumpsuit with her helmet under her arm.
When her pod screamed as it accelerated he screamed for her. Each turn and dip when he couldn't see her worried him so much. Each hit the pod took hurt him like he'd been mashed between the pods.
When Kim's pod crossed the finish line nanometers in front of her closest competitor Ron was there. He grabbed her into a hug as soon as she jumped from the cockpit.
Kim barely had time to quizzically say "Ron?" before their lips crashed together. She was hesitant at first but the responded with equal passion. "I love you Kimberly Anne Possible," Ron said pulling a piece of sweat dampened hair away from her face.
Kim's smile was more radiant than a thousand suns. "I love you too Ron," she whispered. Then she closed for another, far more passionate, kiss.
Ron leaned foreward and closed his eyes to enjoy the kiss. Then he hit his head. Opening his eyes he was a blurry version of his dormitory room's carpet. Ron groaned and called himself twelve kinds of idiot.
This was the first dream like this that Ron had had about Kim in a long time. The last time had been during a mission when he was sixteen. Since puberty Ron had dreams about his friend, in a not so friendly light. They had petered off then stopped all together as he grew older.
Ron had tried to convince himself that the kiss yesterday was a friendly one. It hadn't worked.
The whole day was far less bright without Kim. He ate his meals, but didn't savor the food. He talked and spared with Felix, wishing it was Kim. When the lights dimmed as most Jedi turned to meditation or sleep, Ron returned to his room.
He used a small vidscreen to watch Kim's race. He could imagine that he was there playing out his dream. Then he mentally scolded himself for the 34,596th time today. Jedi didn't get urges like that. Unless he wanted to be expelled from the Jedi order he would try to keep a lid on his dreams.