Chapter 6

The vibrations in the tunnel around her vibrated her chest hard enough to make her cough. Her father must have sensed her trepidation because he took her hand and gave it a good squeeze. She looked up at him and gave him a tight smile as thanks before checking her uncle's expression to her right. Eventually the brightness in the tunnel ahead enveloped the trio and they stepped out into the pit lane of quite possibly the most feared track in the galaxy; the Executioner of Oovo IV. Geda spun around on her heel as she marveled at the half million sentients that stomped and clapped in the viewing stands around her. It was Uncle Cyrus that stopped her gawking pirouette with an easy hand. "Act like you've been here before and you'll be here a hundred more times".

His words snapped her back into focus. He was right. She's not a fan anymore but could always be relegated to that status the moment she let the task become too big for her. She went to her pod and ran a hand along the gunnel. Sleek didn't begin to do the pod justice. Red and off-white it was designed to look like the bow of an old A-wing Interceptor. The words 'Visit Tralus' adorned one side, while small adverts for individual casinos dotted the rest of the carriage. She looked down the lane to see her competition; the only other females were a red skinned Rutia Twi'lek and a devaronian. The only other humans were from a little dustball called Tatooine, a planet Geda was familiar with as the home of the Boonta Eve. To everyone else it was the home of Skywalkers. The odds makers on Coruscant had none of the humans making a single podium. A fact that many non-humans were not too subtly delighting in. Even in the new Triumvirate the humans had too much power in the realm of politics and culture, and they were all too pleased to see them relegated to 2nd class status in anything. Those same odds makers had the Gran, Zheal Taal, as the three to one favorite to be wearing the championship medal in nine months' time.

"alright kid, remember the strategy?"

Geda nodded to her weequay race engineer, Bam Didar. "Then recite it to me".

She had already learned her lesson about lacking enthusiasm for the details and she snapped out their pre-race instructions like a student recalling a presentation on the Clone Wars. "hang back and out of the fray on lap one, Let them beat each other up. Stay close enough to keep their air tow, but far enough back to be able to react when the big one happens. Pass only at seventeen and twenty-nine. If it's not there, leave it".

Didar nodded approvingly despite her clear lack of approval for the last sentences. He must've clearly picked up on it anyway. "Listen kid. This track has ended more lives than any other track we'll race this year, other than maybe Dethros. Now there may no longer be ore cannons firing at you, but this track can still end you career before it even gets started. We will have plenty of tracks to go for it this year. Our goal here is to finish with that pretty little pod…and your pretty little head intact. Clear?"

Geda did not miss that in order of importance, the pod came first to Bam. She didn't hold it against him. If anything it made her like him more, as she was just as myopic about racing. "clear" she answered.

"All right then" he took one hand away from his datapad and held it out. She clasped it. "Suit up and fire it up".