Chapter Two: Reality Check
Chug honked his horn excitedly. "Hey Dusty! Hey Sky!"
Sky waved from her perch on Dusty. The crop duster dipped a wing in greeting as he flew into the airport in Lincoln, Nebraska for the qualifiers. Sky kept her connection down, saving her energy for the lap. But as Dusty landed and taxied over to meet their friends, Sky couldn't help feeling excited. They finally made it. This was their big chance to show their stuff.
"I don't know how you talked me into coming to this." Dottie groaned as she backed out of the trailer Chug pulled.
"Come on, Dottie." Dusty scoffed.
"Yeah, this is fun!" Sky agreed, standing on Dusty's wing.
"Ladies and gentleplanes!" Someone called over the loudspeaker. Looking up at the sound of an engine revving, everyone could see a sleek, green and black Racing Mustang streaking across the sky, leaving green smoke in his wake.
The Mustang shot through the trail of green smoke, skidding to a halt on the runway. "Ripslinger!" He announced, a flurry of fireworks setting off behind him. He chuckled, moving over for the photographers to snap photos of him.
Dottie and Sky coughed, the four Propwash residents staring incredulously after the racer. "Well, at least he's modest." Dottie noted sarcastically.
"Tell me about it." Sky smirked.
"Dottie, Sky, that's Ripslinger!" Dusty said excitedly.
"He's captain of Team RPX!" Chug added. "They call him—"
"The Green Tornado!" Chug and Dusty said at once.
"He's so good, he's pre-qualified." Dusty explained. He gestured to two smaller planes that flanked Ripslinger, each colored white and green. "And those two: Ned and Zed."
"The Twin Turbos!" Chug and Dusty chimed.
"They're world-class racers." Dusty finished.
"You know, I hear they used to be one plane and were separated at birth." Dottie said teasingly.
"Wow." Chug breathed. "I wish I was separated at birth."
Sky laughed. "I don't think the world is ready for two of you, Chug."
Soon, it was time to begin. The qualifying round was one lap through the pylons set up on the field. A yellow plane, Fonzarelli, spit off to one side before taking off, much to the disgust of the racers around him. Dusty, Sky, Chug, and Dottie watched, like the rest of the audience, in amazement as Fonzarelli took off through the starting gate and began looping through the pylons. Sky heard something about going through the blue pylons on the horizontal and through the red on the knife edge, but she put more of her focus on the track and the potential racers around her. There was quite a range of plane models, but not a single one that even resembled Dusty's build as a crop duster. Sky spotted several human riders, but the youngest looked not a day under thirty. Suddenly, she felt a wave of nervousness. Were they even ready for something like this? But at the sight of Dusty's warm smile, Sky's nerves fell away. They had been practicing for a few years, preparing for this one moment. No way could they fail now; not when they finally came so close.
Dusty and Sky ended up at the bottom of the list of racers to go on, allowing them to check out the competition. A few racers flamed out or received penalties, but other than that it was a matter of who managed to place in the top five spots.
Sky hopped up onto her spot, activating the connection between her and Dusty. She patted the crop duster. "You ready, Dust Storm?"
"Yeah." Dusty took in a breath and let it out slowly. "This is it."
"From Propwash Junction," Roper, the Rally official, announced. "Strut Jetstream and Soarin' Sky Riley!"
"'Strut Jetstream'?" Dottie asked.
"Yep!" Chug confirmed. "Awesomest call sign ever. It was my idea."
"Ah. That explains it." Dottie rolled her eyes. "At least Sky's makes sense."
"That's because I refused the call sign 'Psycho Psychadella.'" Sky noted. Dottie cast a look to Chug, who only smiled sheepishly.
"Hey, ag-plane!" Roper snapped as they passed. "Get off the runway! Second call for Strut Jetstream and Soarin' Sky Riley. Lookin' for—"
"Yo!" Dusty called. "I'm Strut Jetstream and this is my psyche human partner, Sky Riley." Sky gave a wave.
Roper stared, as did most of the audience and other racers. "Okay, the kid I can kind of understand. But you? You're Strut Jetstream? A crop duster?" Immediately, most of the spectators burst into laughter as Dusty rolled forward. "Now you know you're built for seed, not speed?"
"Really?" Sky rolled her eyes. "Never would've guessed."
Ripslinger scoffed. "That farmer's gonna race?"
"Seriously, with a puny human kid like her?" Zed laughed.
"Watch it, punk!" Sky snapped, glaring straight ahead. The spectators around them continued to jibe and laugh, but Sky only readied herself as she gripped the handlebar tightly. "Dusty, don't listen to them. Just do your lap and shove their insults right back down their windpipes."
Dusty smirked a bit. Leave it to Sky to make a motivating speech sound like an aggressive death threat. "Let's do it, co-pilot." His propeller began spinning, and he took a breath before pushing off and lifting into the air.
Dusty shot through the starting gate, making a hard right turn to head through the first pylons. He made it cleanly through the first pylon, but his wing ended up scraping the dirt and grass on his first knife edge. "Easy, Dusty! You got this!" Sky encouraged, pushing more power into the crop duster. Dusty continued on, shooting through the quadruple pylons one way and making a hard, 270-degree high-G turn to come back around. Sky didn't dare look towards the clock, keeping her and Dusty's focus on the lap. "That's it, Dusty! That's it! Keep it up!" She continued to call encouraging words, the support seeming to make Dusty go faster. He shot through the three-pylon chicane, picking up speed as he made his way to the high vertical. Sky encouraged him to climb, her grip tight on the handlebar as Dusty angled up and shot into the air. He made a shallow curve, going upside down for a moment before twisting around and allowing gravity to pull him along to the finish line. He passed through, stopping his time and landing smoothly on the tarmac. Sky punched the air and cheered as Chug and Dottie came up, looking excited.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Chug cheered. Sky and Dusty panted a bit, but smiled nonetheless. Even the spectators around them looked impressed. They quickly turned to the time board to see where they placed.
"Jetstream and Riley, the official time is one minutes, 24.26 seconds." Roper announced. "Sixth place! But what a close one, people."
One-tenth of a second. They were only one-tenth of a second behind fifth-place Fonzarelli. Immediately, Dusty's and Sky's faces fell and they slumped down. Chug and Dottie looked equally disappointed, staring mostly at the ground.
"Hey." Fonzarelli said as he approached them. "Sixth place ain't nothing to be ashamed of. That was a heck of a run."
Dusty and Sky forced smiles. "Thanks." They murmured. In fact, many of the audience members and fellow racers complimented them on their great run. But the fact of the matter: their best wasn't enough. It didn't get them into the race. All their hard work had just been shot down.
They failed.
When they returned to Propwash, Skipper noticed a visible change in his daughter's attitude. She didn't go to racing practice with Dusty anymore. She spent quite a bit of time on her bed, spinning the propeller of her Corsair figurine. If she ever went outside, she usually just sat on the cliff edge staring into the distance or strumming her guitar. Like what she did now; even at seventeen, Sky liked to use music to organize her thoughts, and the songs she sang and played reflected her mood. But Skipper noticed she seemed to be playing rather sad songs for a few days. He never thought he'd see her this depressed. More than that, she seemed disappointed in herself.
Finally get tired of hanging out with the crop duster? He wondered. Speaking of which, where is that boy? It's quitting time; they're usually practicing around now. He had Sparky hook up some binoculars to his wing and he peered out the window towards the fields. Skipper blinked in surprise to find the crop duster simply dusting the crops. No daydreaming or aerobatic stunts or whoops of joy. In fact, he seemed to be flying much lower and slower than he normally did. Skipper pulled the binoculars away, staring in surprise, before casting a look to Sparky. The medic stared back at him, a small, sad frown on his face. Clearly he was a little sad as well that Dusty and Sky didn't make it through the qualifiers.
Skipper stared out the other window to where Sky sat. The raven-haired teen slouched in her spot, her guitar resting beside her. How could this bother you two so much? Skipper wondered. Did it really mean that much to you?
"There ya go!" Chug announced. "Topped off and all set, Mayday!"
Sky gave the lenses a last wipe before holding up the giant pair of glasses she held. "Glasses clean!" She set the eyewear over Mayday's windshield.
"Thanks, you two!" Mayday said gratefully as he rolled off.
"Anytime!" Sky waved goodbye. She and Chug looked up in surprise as a delivery truck suddenly skidded to a halt before them, the back door opening to reveal a very irritated Roper.
"Unbelievable! Why don't you just go back? I mean, I think you actually missed a pothole!" He coughed from the dust and dirt the truck kicked up. "Man, you've got to be the worst, I mean the worst, delivery truck that has ever delivered a delivery!"
Chug and Sky exchanged looks before looking to Roper as he approached. "Can I help you?" Chug asked kindly.
Roper still coughed and gagged a bit. "Please tell me this is Propwash Junction."
"Sure is!" Chug confirmed, Sky nodding in pride.
Roper sighed in relief. "You know, you're not even on the map."
Chug shrugged. "Pretty drive, though, ain't it?"
"Oh yeah, yeah." Roper droned. "Anyway, I'm looking for a Strut Jetstream and Soarin' Sky Riley."
"Who?" Chug asked.
"Strut Jetstream and Sky Riley." Roper repeated.
"Well, I'm Sky Riley, but I've never heard of a Strut Jetstream." Sky said, looking to Chug.
The fuel truck thought for a moment. "Nah, me neither. You got a photo?"
"No I don't have a photo!" Roper snapped. "I have documentation that says Strut Jetstream and Soarin' Sky Riley live in Propwash Junction."
Sky thought for a moment. Then she caught sight of Roper's WAG hat and it clicked. "Oh! Wait a minute." She turned and noticed a certain crop duster passing by. "Hey Dusty! I mean, Strut! Strut Jetstream! You're being paged!"
Dusty perked up at his call sign and rolled over. Chug finally caught on, realizing he almost forgot the call signs since they stopped practicing. "Oh, that's right! There he is, strutting on over here."
"But you're…..mispronouncing it slightly." Dusty told Roper.
"I am?" Roper asked, blinking.
"Not my name." Sky assured.
"Yeah. Mine's actually pronounced…." Dusty paused, wondering if he really wanted to do that. Soon, he decided he did. "Dusty Crophopper."
Roper stared at him for a moment. "Dusty…..Crophopper?"
"Yeah. It's…Scandinavian." Dusty said.
Sky rolled her eyes. "Oh boy."
"Right. And I'm Egyptian." Roper nodded, not convinced.
"Um, Mr. Roper, sir?" Sky piped up. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"Are you familiar with the racing fuel additive nitro methane?" Roper asked, looking to his clipboard.
"Oh yeah!" Chug said excitedly. "Zip juice! Go-go punch! That stuff will blur your vision and slur your speech."
"It's illegal." Roper piped up.
"I mean it's totally illegal." Chug corrected, cringing a bit. Dusty and Sky cast their fuel truck friend a look, the latter making a mental note to have a serious talk with Chug later.
"That substance was found in the tank of the fifth-place qualifier, Fonzarelli." Roper explained.
"So?" Sky shrugged.
"Illegal fuel intake is an automatic DQ." Rope said.
Dusty blinked in surprise, stammering. "Wait, so you're saying…."
"He's out, you two are in." Roper concluded with a smile. "Congratulations."
Chug, Sky, and Dusty stared, shocked. "You're in?" Chug repeated.
"We're in." Sky realized.
Chug's face brightened up. "They're in!" He put his fuel nozzle to his lips and gave a shrill whistle, catching the attention of Dottie, Mayday, Sparky, and some of the other residents nearby. "You're never gonna believe this!" Chug called. "They're in! Dusty and Sky are in the race!"
"We're in!" Sky squealed happily, hugging Dusty. "I can't believe it! We're in!" Dusty smiled broadly as everyone gathered around, congratulating them.
"Don't do anything crazy." Dottie warned. "Fly safe."
"Man, it's gonna be cool!" Chug said excitedly. "You're gonna cross oceans thousands of miles wide. Freezing your rudder off one day…."
"And burning it off the next!" Sparky added.
"Freaking hurricanes!" Chug continued.
"Cyclones!"
"Monsoons!"
"Tornadoes!"
"Sandstorms!"
"Gale force winds!"
Sky noticed Dusty's face go from elated to quite terrified as Chug and Sparky listed off the dangerous obstacles that could happen during the race. "Uh, Dusty?"
Dusty seemed to snap out of it. "Uh, I need a minute." He hurried off to his hanger.
Chug laughed. "Probably so excited he doesn't know how to react!" He caught sight of Sky's pointed glare, directed at him and Sparky. "What?"
"Hurricanes? Freezing his rudder off?" Sky scoffed. "Come on, guys! You about gave him an engine attack!"
"What?" Sparky shrugged. "You two might actually run into that kind of stuff."
"Really?" Sky asked, all of a sudden looking a little nervous herself.
"Racing isn't exactly a sport for the meek of heart, you know." Chug pointed out.
Sky groaned, rubbing the back of her head. "Dusty and I were so excited to get into the race. We didn't exactly consider what we might go through. And we're going all around the world, no less!"
"You're not gonna back out, are ya?" Sparky asked.
"Of course not!" Sky assured. "We didn't come this far just to back out now. But let's face it, guys: Dusty and I barely made it into the race. If we're going to survive, much less win, we're going to need some serious coaching from a real coach. No offense, Chug."
"Eh, none taken." Chug assured.
"But isn't that race of yours in a week?" Mayday noted. "Who can coach you in such little time?"
"It's not about who can teach us." Sky said, looking to Sparky. "It's about convincing him to."
Sparky caught on. "You're kidding. Don't you remember what happened when Dusty tried to ask?"
"There's no other choice." Sky said, steeling her nerves. "There's only one plane I know who can make me and Dusty racers by the time the rally starts."
Sky pulled open the hanger doors to her home and darted inside, Sparky beside her. The teen approached her adoptive father and glared determinedly. "Teach me and Dusty how to race."
"No." Skipper's dull response couldn't come quicker.
"Why not?" Sky complained.
"Because I don't like how you're asking me." Skipper said matter-of-factly. "I raised you better than that."
Sky sighed. "Fine." She straightened up and gave a salute, and Skipper's mouth twitched as he fought a smirk. "Commander Skipper Riley, sir, will you please—"
"No." Skipper said.
"Dad!" Sky whined.
"If you think I'm going to let you go into that race with that crop duster, you've got another thing comin'!" Skipper snapped. "The only reason I let you go into the qualifiers was because I didn't think he'd make it."
"Wow. Confidence booster." Sky droned sarcastically. "Come on, Dad! If I don't race with Dusty, he can't race at all. We registered as a team."
"Tough luck." Skipper growled. Sparky wisely stayed out of the fight, knowing he wouldn't be able to help either party.
"Dad—"
"I said no, Skylar Amelia! This race features the best planes from around the world, and some of them don't finish! You go in there, you could be killed!"
"Not if you trained me and Dusty. You're our only shot."
"That crop duster doesn't stand a chance with or without my help!"
"Why not?"
"He's not built for it!"
Sky groaned. "No duh, he's not built for it. But he believes he can do it and you know what? I believe in him too. I know I'll be fine as long as I'm with him, and we can be champions with your help. Because like it or not, we're going into that race."
"No, you're not." Skipper said firmly.
"Dad, please!" Sky was close to begging. "Dusty and I have been preparing for this for years, and he's been dreaming of this his entire life. Don't let me be the reason he can't follow his dreams."
"You think this is a dream?" Skipper scoffed. "It's not. It's some punk kid biting off more than he can chew, and dragging you down with him."
"It is not!" Sky protested.
"You sure?" Skipper asked.
Sky opened her mouth, but then closed it again. Why did Dusty want to do this so badly? This had to be more than just a passion for him, otherwise he wouldn't want to take it to such great lengths so quickly. She sighed. "Skipper, please. Will you at least train Dusty for the sake of my safety?"
Skipper glared. "No. I'm gonna go knock some sense into that boy's canopy. Sparky, let's go."
"Aye-aye, Skip!" Sparky hurriedly grabbed the hook and began pushing Skipper out of the hanger and down into town.
"No, Dad, please!" Sky complained. "The last time you 'knocked some sense' into a guy's canopy, you nearly knocked his head in!"
"Then you better come with me!" Skipper called, Sparky not pausing. "Make sure I don't kill him!"
"What do you think I've been doing for the past five years?" Sky muttered as she took off after Skipper.