Space Race (Space Race 1) Nathan Hystad (ebooks children's books free .TXT) 📖

Four

I woke up, earlier than my mom, to the sunlight peeking through the living room windows. I stretched my stiff back and stared at the view of the other nearby complexes. A bus transport arrived, letting out a night shift group. They walked slowly, dispersing toward their homes.

The light reflected off something metal next to me, and I saw the trophy. First Place: Under Thirteen. Lunar Juniors. My name used to scroll across the lower digital readout, but I assumed the batteries had died years ago. This dusty old shelf displayed a lot of my past.

I picked up another and tried to recall how old I’d been when I’d received it. Third place at a suborbital contest over Lotus Corp-owned land. The trophy was simple, with a Pod Sprinter mounted cheaply on top. I’d been devastated that I’d finished in third position, but my grandfather had held his head high. He told me what I’d done wrong and what I’d done right. The comment he’d made had stuck with me forever. He stood there, before my parents meandered over from the stands, and crouched. I was eight. The more I thought about the moment, the more vivid it became in my mind. His strong palm landed on my shoulder; he stared at me, making sure we were at eye level. That was how he operated. Even playing fields. Never made me feel as small as I was, never let me feel stupid.

His light blue eyes almost glowed, his smile so genuine, I stopped sniffling. “Arlo, not every Race is meant to be won. Sometimes you need to learn from them instead. If you won every contest, you’d think you were invincible. Life has a habit of keeping you focused, instead of growing stagnant. The best men and women out there don’t stop learning. They understand their mistakes, improve them, and perfect their skills. Do you now realize how powerful a loss can be?”

I never finished worse than second after that day, and not even my grandfather knew how much those losses had chafed my young ego.

I grabbed another award. First place in the Primary Pod Under Eighteen Cup. The last time I’d raced.

“You were so talented.” My mom surprised me, and I almost dropped the trophy.

“It was just a sport. A game.”

“But it was something you could do together. He loved it so much,” she told me.

“Less than his lust for adventure.”

She paused and smiled. “Maybe you’re right. Take a shower. I don’t want to be late for my shift.”

A half hour later, we left. My mother assured me she was fine, and that perhaps she’d overreacted last night. She peered around nervously as she walked me to Capricious, and she tsked as it came into view. I felt her judgment at the sight of my rundown hauler, but it was mine. Sage Industries had allowed me to own it as part of our deal after my promotion, and they’d surprisingly kept their word on it as we parted ways. Most likely, someone in the chain forgot I even had the ship. That was how these large companies worked. Layers upon layers of departments, each with a simple and focused goal. It made for high profits and low communication levels.

We hugged, and I left her there, waiting for the transport that would come and bring her to her job site for the twelve-hour shift. She chatted with some friends, and despite her ragged appearance yesterday, she seemed in better spirits.

Capricious vibrated as she powered on, and I decided to run a thorough scan before departing. “CP, full analysis.”

“Running analysis,” she said. I was about to change her vocal settings, when the alarm sounded.

“Damn it.” I hit a palm against the dash console. I was failing five of the top twenty diagnostic basics. That meant I wasn’t going to SeaTech, not without fixing the issues. I knew my way around my baby, but that usually involved rerouting power by circumventing things like in-floor lighting to keep the dash at capacity. Then there was the time I’d reduced my cabin pressure by five percent to keep my makeshift repair job on the drive’s converter from blowing.

I ran a tally of all the homemade patches I’d done over the years, and it was no wonder she was acting up. I had to see a specialist, and I groaned as I decided who might be willing to do it for the spare money left in my account.

“Come on, girl. Get me to the Wastes,” I mumbled as I lifted her into the sky. I waited for a string of Sage transports to pass by and set off for the wild west.

The Wastes were unsanctioned by the Board, but that didn’t stop people from operating there. It was nestled between Sage and Orion along the East Coast, and above Oasis. The entire region was located in the heart of the landmass and had been abandoned hundreds of years ago after a nuclear meltdown in the early stages of the Tech Rise.

Since then, not even the Primary Corps had wanted anything to do with the poisoned land, but eventually, people had begun migrating to it, seeking refuge from the clutches of the Corporations, and found their own version of home among the wastelands that were once part of a state named Kansas.

Junction was located near a big lake, and despite early reservations, the community had managed to decontaminate the region and were able to live off the land. I passed sprawling fields of corn as I headed toward the city, which appeared to have grown since I’d last seen it.

That was a low point in my life. Desperate and hungry, I’d lived there for a year before finding employment at Oasis’ hands. I didn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms, especially since I’d left in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye. Bello hadn’t deserved that.

Capricious hissed from the vents above me, and the scent of a broken