Throttle Thirty-Five

Diana stretched her back out, something that was surprisingly difficult to do without some sort of gravity to help. “Okay, I don’t know where the eating’s good around here. What do you suggest, Zil?”

“Just Rossi,” the ktacha said. “And I know of a place or two. They are restaurant chains. Inexpensive, but they serve something for everyone.”

“Neat,” Diana said. “Lead the way!”

Diana grabbed onto a handle along the corridor’s edge and gave herself a tug to move forwards just behind Zil Rossi. ChaOS and Ahvie followed after them. The smaller alien had a backpack on with two tanks that would have seemed tiny on anyone else. A few little jets spurted out some air, slowing her down and redirecting her flight after the others.

Diana didn’t want to insult Ahvie by telling her, but the serious expression on her face, combined with the oversized and clumsy propulsion system, made her look really cute. Like a kid in a flying go-kart.

The trio slid into the main streets of Waitless station, still with Zil Rossi in the lead, and they made their way straight to a restaurant whose entire wall was covered in flashing, glowing screens. Little jingles played on repeat, and aliens filed into long lines to use a machine that took their orders then spat out a chit that let them stand in another line further in.

“Not the most glamorous food, but it’s something,” Zil Rossi said. “I must admit I kind of missed junk food like this over the last week or so.”

“Can’t get any in flight?” Diana asked.

The ktacha shook her head. “No. I was aboard a medical frigate. Unsurprisingly, they are very careful with what they feed their patients. Exactly-proportioned meals with everything the patients need to feel better, except for anything that would please their sense of taste. The cost I paid for taking an Erivadian ship.”

“Ah, that’s fair,” Diana said. “I’ve spent my share of time in hospitals. How are you, really?”

Zil Rossi paused for a moment before replying. “I’m returning to good health. My injuries were hardly severe.”

“Looked rough,” Diana said.

Zil Rossi’s lips twisted. “The cockpit of the Purple Streak was taken from a Beone zero-Kay. Are you familiar with those?”

“No, can’t say I am,” Diana said.

“They’re a fairly popular brand of second-rate industrial ships. As common as insects in your fur. Tough, though. They’re popular because they’re hard to break and easy to work with. I was lucky, I suppose. I rolled a lot, and I was hit by some shrapnel, but I survived.”

Diana grinned at the smaller racer. “You’re tough. That’s good. You need that kind of thing to stand out.”

“Tough, but I didn’t win,” Zil Rossi said.

“That happens, sometimes,” Diana said. “Not to me, of course. I win; it’s basically my one defining feature. That, and my incredible self-confidence.”

The ktacha stared at Diana, obviously confused.

“She’s making a joke,” Ahvie pipped up. “Her species’ sense of humour doesn’t make sense.”

“Hey now, I was serious,” Diana said. Zil Rossi made a noise that might have been a weak chuckle, and Diana had to resist the urge to cross her arms and pout about it. “Well, whatever. I’m glad you made it out of it alive. I hate it when a good racer dies before their time. If you’re going to go, it should be in a blaze of glory.”

“I’ll make note of that,” Zil Rossi said.

The tentacled thing before them in line floated aside, letting them reach the screen from which they could order.

Dozens of items were scrolling by with prices below them, some struck out to indicate specials. The occasional inconvenient ad interrupted the scroll, of course. Diana noted that every item had a set of symbols next to it, the vague outline of some alien’s bodies with thin writing around them.

A message from ChaOS popped into her mind. “Mistress, after some consideration, you should be biologically compatible enough with any food items marked out for the yolsha or erivada consumption. Some polerin or ktacha foods might also be acceptable, but many of the staples of their cooking would disagree with your constitution.”

Diana nodded, made note of what symbols were tied to ‘safe’ foods, then she pressed on every food item that had the symbol next to them.

Zil Rossi paused after Diana selected the sixth item. “I’m not paying for you anymore,” she said.

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Diana laughed. “It’s fine. My treat.”

“Thank you,” Ahvie said. “But Ahvie doesn’t think Diana can eat all that. It’s a lot.”

“Oh no, I have no intention to eat all of it. Just a bite from each. Don’t worry, we’ll take the leftovers back to the ship.”

Once they’d all ordered, including Diana’s order of ‘one of everything,’ they shifted over to the next line. Diana couldn’t help but imagine that an anthropologist would lose their mind in this place. Just studying the ads flickering by on the wall of screens would occupy a few universities for a decade or two.

She didn’t really find them all that interesting. They were clearly trying to appeal to different races with different things. She did notice the ads for nice personal space-craft. Those were neat, but otherwise there wasn’t much to appeal to her.

Once they reached the collection window, Diana had to pick up a tray, load it up (the food all came in boxes with cheap magnetic strips on their bottoms), then she had to make a quick back and forth between her table and the counter to bring everything with her. That earned her a bit of attention from the locals, but none of the aliens seemed to care enough to complain.

“Alright,” Diana said as she hooked her legs around the bar of a stool. “Let’s eat, yeah?”

“Certainly. Thank you for the meal. It’s appreciated,” Zil Rossi said.

“Mhm,” Ahvie agreed with a nod. She already had her mouth stuffed with something not too dissimilar to a sandwich. A little piece of some unidentifiable mulch inside it floated off above Ahvie until a drone slipped past and scooped it out of the air.

“Will… I’m afraid I did not hear your name,” Zil Rossi said to ChaOS. Once she was properly introduced, she gestured to the wealth of food before them. “Won’t you eat?”

“Oh, ChaOS doesn’t eat,” Diana said. She leaned forwards and pointed to Zil Rossi with something that was almost a fry. “So, what are you doing on Waitless? We’re a few jumps away from the scrapyards, and while I’m not an expert at probability, I don’t think it’s likely that we’d meet out of sheer coincidence.”

Zil Rossi took a bite from her meal before replying. “I’m here for the same thing you are, I imagine: the Tyrant Cracker. There’s a ktacha captain that’s participating this year, Ven Geddi. He is a well-known racer, and his team is rather large. I was hoping they would need an extra pilot. I have a few races on my credentials. I’m a decent pilot.”

“Did you get the job?” Diana asked.

Zil Rossi turned glum. “I did not. But then, as I sulked in a bar, I saw you racing against Abatrath with what must have been half of station security chasing after you.”

“Oh, right,” Diana said.

“It didn’t take much work to track you down. I’m surprised that Station Security isn’t knocking at your airlock.”

“I imagine they take a cut of the winnings,” Diana said. “Otherwise they’d be a lot more effective at stopping the races.”

“Ahvie’s seen that kind of thing before,” Ahvie chimed in. “So, Miss Zil Rossi. If you’re not going to be in Ven Geddi’s team, are you looking for a spot on ours?”

Zil Rossi shifted. It was small, but in the low gravity it meant she had to adjust her grip on the table before flying off. “Do you even have a team?”

“Three people are a team,” Diana said. “I don’t know if we… oh, no, this is nasty.” She spat out some sort of purple lettuce-like thing back into its box, closed it, then set it on the edge of the table. It had the consistency of a dirty towel and about the same taste. “Urgh. Anyway, I don’t know if we need a fourth. Ahvie’s not really participating in the race directly. I’ll be pulling manoeuvres that she’s not trained for, so her part is mostly procuring items and making sure the ship’s in good condition. ChaOS has weapons and navigation, and I’m piloting. I don’t see what else we’d need someone for.”

The ktacha’s ears flicked back. Diana couldn’t tell if it was insult or disappointment she read there. “You trust ChaOS on both?” she asked. “No offence.”

“None taken,” ChaOS replied.

“He’s good with numbers,” Diana said. “Tell you what though… we might have room for someone in another role. Not on the main ship, but still helpful.”

“I might be interested,” Zil Rossi said. “What’s the spot?”

“Well, how are you in a dogfight?”

***