CHAPTER 5

Dillon worked on Sammy for the next two days, trying to find a chink in the armor. He bought him lunch one day, and then drinks the next. He talked about the possibilities the rally could open up afterwards. Their names would be known across multiple states, if not multiple nations.

"Come on, man. We get to compete in Deseret, Idaho, and Montana. It's free publicity! And once they see how we win, we'll get calls for arena sponsorship."

The other man grunted noncommittally and finished his beer. The young driver raised his hand to signal the bartender, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back over at his former teammate.

"Look, Dill. It was a good run. We had some good fights. I always knew the score with you, and this had to happen someday. Like I said, you're not a team player. Just leave it. We're done. Don't talk to me no more." He got up off his stool and headed for the door.

It was as if things were starting to unravel inside him, with each step that Sammy took towards the door. One part of his brain screamed to go after him and make him stay, and another part felt relief. He'd always felt some tension with Sammy, whenever they’d clashed over his driving. Those arguments always gone away in the arena, hadn't they? Have I really been ignoring how he felt this whole time?

The philosophy of their feelings fell apart the next second, when he remembered that he needed a gunner to compete in the Dead Man's Run. And without a gunner, he couldn't even compete in the arena. Oh, he could join the Killer Kart league, with peanuts for payout and laughable competition. Now, Basher wouldn't sponsor him. And he couldn't go back to the arena. He was stuck.

***

Nico hung up the phone and looked at Eric and Kayla. "That was Dillon. Samuel has quit the team and nothing he’s been able to do or say will bring him back. The guy even accused Dillon of not being a team player. The boy is pretty upset, and I guess he has a right to be. He's watching the best deal he's ever seen go down the drain."

Eric waggled his head from side to side. "Guy's not wrong. When the kid is driving, that's all he thinks about. I was wondering what made the gunner stick around. I’d hoped the prize money would be keep him around, and that he'd jump at the chance, but I guess he's had enough."

The big man stood and walked around the table to stand between the other two. "Well, that leaves us in a jam. No chance of finding a replacement gunner at this late date, is there?"

His director shook his head. "Everyone’s snapping up the best teams for this thing. We’d have to start looking outside Denver, or hell, even outside the state to find someone. And then try to get them here in time."

"That tears it, then. The rules are clear. We need a two-person crew, driver and gunner, not just a driver."

Pulling out his phone, Eric said, "I'll let our second choice know then."

Kayla put her hand out, palm facing him. "Hold on a second. I have an idea. It's going to sound crazy, and we all agree Dillon is our best driver for the rally, right?"

The two men nodded, and her father asked, "How are you proposing to get Samuel back? Because if Dillon couldn't…"

"No, not that. That guy didn't want to be a part of this anyway. No, what I'm proposing… Dad, I want to take his place. I want to be the gunner for the team."

Nico's eyebrows shot up, and his gaze quickly switched to his director of operations, who was choking back his laughter. "I don't see what's so funny about Kayla putting her life in danger, Eric."

Waving a hand, face red, Eric said, "Same blood, Nico. Same blood."

She leaned forward to her father and put her outstretched hand on his. "I designed the car. I know the weapons. I've run the sims on the expected competition, and I know the numbers. More importantly, I know our targeting system inside and out. I can do this, Dad."

He grabbed her hand, and knelt next to her, putting their eyes level with each other. "Kayla, this isn't like taking a car out for an operational test. You've never been in combat before. You've never had anyone shoot at you with live weapons at full power."

"I'm putting together a solid design. I've run multiple Monte Carlo simulations on the best armor and weapons layouts for this kind of event. We're going to be the best-armed, best protected car out there. The data supports that conclusion. You know me, Dad. I don’t settle for halfway measures."

Her father looked her in the eye. "You've never shot at anyone before. I mean, shot to kill. It's not like shooting at drones out on the test range, or anything in the lab."

"No, it's exactly like that, Dad. Everything I do is through our software. They're targets on a screen, just like anything else."

Basher looked at his friend, eyes pleading. "Eric, help me out here. She can't do this!"

The tall man shrugged. "What do you expect, Nico? She's your daughter. You brought her up with a joystick in one hand. And as a matter of fact, I think she could do it." He paused. "If she knows she has your support."

The former autoduellist looked back to his daughter. Memories flashed through his head, of her as a little girl playing with her first computer. Her first test run with live weapons, and the huge grin when she'd put on the ATSS combat suit. In a low voice, he tried his last argument. "We can back out . We haven't committed any serious funds to this yet. No one will know we were going to field a team."

Kayla leaned over and raised her arms for a hug. He automatically wrapped one huge arm around her slim figure, and she spoke softly into his ear, "We'll know, Dad. We'll know we stepped away from the biggest opportunity this company ever had. I can do this. Please."

Slowly, he patted her on the back. "I know you can, and I hate that thought. And I hate myself for hating it."

***

Dillon walked into Nico's office hesitantly. He hadn't expected to be called back in after he admitted he couldn't convince Sammy to return. Nico was standing by the window, staring at the skyscrapers that enclosed the Tech Center. "Have a seat, Dillon. We need to talk about the rally."

With butterflies in his stomach, Dillon sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. After a few seconds, Nico came to join him. He sat in the other chair, next to Dillon instead of behind his desk. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he asked, "You said before you wanted to drive in a big competition. How come you don't join one of the racing circuits, or enroll in the Can-Am and race that way? Why autoduelling?"

Fighting the urge to rub his palms on his pants, Dillon said, "Running around in circles without anything else going on is boring. Speed up, slow down. Drift left, drift right. Your options are limited. In an arena event, there's so many ways to maneuver. You have to be constantly aware of the changing conditions, of the different moves your opponent makes. It's so unpredictable and that's what makes it exciting."

The other man nodded. "I know what you mean. Watching for your moment, not knowing what little factor can give you that moment… that's the best feeling when it comes around. For me, it felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place. You're still forgetting an element, Dillon. Do you know what I mean?"

Hanging his head, he nodded. "My gunner."

"That's right. A good gunner can open up all sorts of opportunities for you, and he can do even more if you set him up for the right shot. He's not just there to put holes in the other guy's car. It's an element you've been ignoring, Dillon. Well, you can't do that anymore."

It took a few moments for the words to sink in. "Anymore? You mean, you got Sammy back? Or another gunner? Who did you find?"

"We'll get to that. I need your commitment to being part of a team, Dillon. You can't win this rally by just driving. Out there, on the highways and backroads, you're going to run into threats you can't just drive around. Frankly, there's going to be some obstacles you'll have to shoot your way through. And for that, you and your gunner have to work together to survive."

Leaning forward, the young man said, "I will. I can. I want this, sir. I'm tired of the small-time arena events. I want to learn what I need to do to compete in the big leagues."

"Let's get through the rally first, okay? Now, I've been talking like you're still part of a crew. You can be… if you accept the gunner we found for you."

"Not Sammy?"

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Basher shook his head firmly. "Not Sammy. He made it very clear he didn't want to be part of this. Since you couldn't convince him to come back, we weren't even going to try." He paused for a moment, exhaled, and continued. "We have an ATSS person who's willing to be your gunner. If you don't want them, or you two can't work together as a team, then we're going to have to go with another choice."

Dillon was out of his chair in an instant. "Sir, give me a shot. I can do this, and I can work with them. Please!"

Gesturing at the door, the CEO said, "Let's go down to the lab and meet them. Then we'll stick you in the simulator to see what you two can do together."

***

They arrived at the same lab from his last visit. Nico motioned to a door on one side of the room. "There's a jumpsuit and helmet in there. Should fit. This is just a familiarization run, and if things work out, we'll fit you for your own gear."

Dillon nodded and went to change. He dressed quickly, up to the helmet. It displayed the ATSS logo on both sides, and his fingers trembled when he put it on. Please, don't let me screw this up. He wasn't sure who he was praying to, since he wasn't particularly religious, and it felt like the right thing to do.

Nico was sitting at a computer, tapping in on the keyboard. The wall screen mirrored his display, and they watched while he set up the sim. "We're going to simulate an open highway, just like you'll be driving on for the rally. This won't be like an arena fight, so keep your options open."

Dillon nodded, his mouth dry. He approached the mockup vehicle and ran his hands over the door. Unlike a real car, this door didn't open. Probably simplified the construction, he realized. He hopped up on the open window and stuck his legs inside, following with the rest of his body. The seat was back all the way, allowing easy access past the M-shaped yoke on the steering column. He adjusted the seat and the controls, his confidence growing with every motion.

Finally settled, he looked around the mockup. It was filled with cables and devices, and there wasn't a whole lot of padding. Since they weren't likely to be bouncing around or getting hit with high-velocity rounds, it wasn't needed. The dashboard and the controls looked generic, without the personalization you would find in a true combat vehicle. The only true difference he could see is that the gunner's seat was behind and to his right, in the centerline of the car. This wasn't a mockup of a regular car; it was one dedicated to competing.

The dashboard came to life when Basher finished the startup sequence, and Dillon took note of the various displays and controls that were now active. His weapons display showed linked machine guns in the rear and a Javelin cannon up front. What really got his attention was the turreted flamethrower, however.

Leaning out the window, he called out. "Why a turret-mounted flamethrower?"

"I'll let your gunner explain that, considering she designed the vehicle."

A motion behind him got his attention. A slender, jump-suited figure was sliding into the vehicle via the window on the other side. Once they were in, he saw it was the brunette that he'd made a fool of himself in front of in the elevator.

"You're… you're the new gunner?"

She gave him a cool look. "Yes. What of it?"

"Um… nothing. I thought you were some kind of executive, that's all."

Her lip curled in the beginning of a sneer. "I am. I run the company's weapons test division." She turned made her way into the gunner's seat before he could respond, however not before he noticed the name tag on her chest read ‘Kayla Battaglia’.

Shaking his head and resolving to keep his mouth shut, Dillon looked straight ahead. Just drive. Don't ask her about the flamethrower. Don’t ask her about her name. In fact, don't say anything else. Don't do anything to screw up this opportunity.

The projection on the wall in front of the car flickered to life, showing an open road. It was a four-lane divided highway, pavement cracked and rough in places. Outside most major cities, these were the typical quality of road you would find.

Basher's voice came in over his headset. "We're going to start with a simple scenario, Dillon. Open road with one opponent. Just so you can get a feel for how the car handles and what it can do. Kayla, I'm doing a random mix on the scenario parameters, so you won't know what to expect. Remember, you two. This is where you start to learn to work together like a team."

"Okay, Dad," Kayla said from behind him.

"Wait. He's your father?"

The steering wheel vibrated under Dillon's hands, and he wasn’t sure if it was the simulator or his own nervousness. He completely forgot what he'd just asked, as the image on the screen began to move them forward. He put his foot on the accelerator and took them up to fifty miles per hour. Given the shape of the road and his lack of familiarity with the car, he felt that was safe enough.

He learned two things very quickly about the car. It accelerated more slowly than his own, and the handling was crisper, although there was more momentum. The car definitely weighed more than his. "How much armor is this thing carrying?"

"We're simulating a Class Six car. That's the maximum allowed for the Dead Man's Run."

Class Six? Mine is only a Class Three. This has double the armor and should have way more weapons. "If it's Class Six, why do we have such a light weapons loadout?"

Kayla spoke up from behind him. "I'm still finalizing the build. You're right, we're going to have more than this. Probably another cannon in the rear, at the least. I wanted to see how you drove before I finalized things."

Dillon navigated his way down the simulated road, avoiding the worst of the potholes and buckled pavement. "Will everything stay mounted front and rear? Besides the flamethrower, that is."

"Yes. The computer sims show the majority of the threats will come from those two directions, especially since you don't have a lot of room to maneuver. I thought about dropped weapons, but I decided on dealing maximum damage instead. The turret and our sidearms will allow us to deal with anyone who gets alongside."

Any response he was going to give died when his rear camera showed something coming up fast behind them. "Contact rear."

"On it. Keep it as steady as you can."

"I'll try. We have a lot of rough road ahead. You want me to take the bumps?"

"No. For the real thing, the data from the sims show we're going to need to protect our tires and suspension over the long run. Breaking down in the middle of nowhere isn't a winning strategy. Just let me know if you're going to make a major shift and which direction."

He nodded to himself and concentrated on driving. Although Basher said there was only one opponent, he also figured there might be some surprises in the mix. He fully expected another car to appear when they were fully engaged with the first guy. Be part of the team, Dillon. There’s no finish line here, so positioning is more important than being in front. It was hard to suppress the urge to open up the throttle and go. Even though it was virtual, that open, empty road in front of him made him hunger to go faster. An opponent who couldn’t catch him couldn’t kill him.

The mockup vibrated when his gunner fired the machine guns, and it felt like he was back in his car for a moment. Seconds later, a dull thump came from the back. The rear end fishtailed slightly, although Dillon got it back under control with ease, and he marveled at how accurately they simulated the damage on the car. "Did they hit us?"

"Yeah. They got a Jackhammer mounted up front. He's going to try to make us spin out of control, I think."

Glancing at the road ahead, the young driver pressed his foot down on the accelerator. "He's going to have to catch us first."

The machine guns rattled again, and Kayla let an exultant 'Yes' slip out. Then she said, "Are you sure you want to speed up? A hit at this speed could be really bad."

"I’ve got the feel for the car now. And I'm not going to stay at this speed. Just be ready to go to the turret when I tell you. Maybe even the front guns, if I surprise him enough."

"Whatever you say." Her voice was carefully neutral, like she was measuring his every word.

He slowly took them up to seventy miles per hour, deftly dodging back and forth to avoid potholes and throw off his opponent’s aim. Kayla fired a few more times, working to adjust her timing to match his maneuvers. She didn’t hit very often, and she also didn’t complain about it. And that’s a big change from Sammy already. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

They hit seventy and he lined up on a big pothole, and then dodged quickly to the left, braking as he went. The computer car, trying to keep up, was caught off guard. Their back end was nearly level with his front when the computer noticed the pothole. The other car began to brake, and Dillon shouted, "Now" at the same time Kayla let loose with the flamethrower.

Wreathed in flames and smoke, the computer-controlled car began to fishtail while it slowed. Unable to see the approaching pothole anymore, it hit the damaged section of road, still going almost forty.

The rear of the computer car leaped into the air, and then the whole vehicle turned sideways and rolled. Dillon continued braking, adjusting to bring the front-mounted guns into play. Kayla let off timed bursts, hammering the underside of the car while it rolled down the highway. It traveled less than fifty feet when it exploded.

With a huge grin, he turned his head to look back at his new gunner. She was grinning too, and they shared in the glory of the combined effort. Then the screen blanked out and the displays in the mockup died.

Basher said over the radio, "Nice going, you two. Of course, that was just one opponent. I'm resetting everything and this time, there'll be three cars out there. Let me know when you're ready."

"We got this," Dillon said over his shoulder. "Nice shooting."

"Nice driving. Let's show my dad what we've got. Maybe we have what it takes to make a crew."

Dillon's gaze had already returned to the front before her second use of the word 'dad' sank in. Then he didn't have time for anything more, because everything came to life and there was a car on the screen, leading them by about three car lengths and already shooting.

***

An hour later, the sweat-soaked crew was sitting on the floor in the lab, sucking down water from squeeze bottles. Their jumpsuits were unzipped to the waist, and their hair plastered to their heads with sweat. Basher sat at his computer, paging through the results.

"Well, I have to say that you have lived up to our driving expectations, Dillon." He turned to face the pair. "I'd say you were a natural. Smooth control of the wheel, good energy management, and a nearly supernatural sense of where to be. Pretty good at keeping track of everything on the road around you, aren't you?"

Dillon smiled weakly. "It's my one superpower."

"Now that's the kind of thing you should be saying in those post-event interviews. Never mind, though. We'll get to that in due time. How do you like working with Kayla? Forget for a moment that she's my daughter or that she's sitting within hitting distance of you."

She shook her head. "I don't have the energy, Dad."

The young man gave a tired smile. "Best I've worked with. Sammy was a pretty good shot, but he got impatient. Couldn't wait for the right shot; he just wanted to take a shot right now." He looked over at her. "You're like a spider in her web. Waiting for people to put themselves in your crosshairs."

She blushed and took a quick swallow of her drink. "A lot of that was the software predicting their moves, and you telling me what you were going to do. Then I just anticipated their response, and bang."

"Well, the two of you certainly proved to me that in the simulator you can get along and work like a team. What about when the rubber hits the road?" The former autoduellist's face was unreadable, his eyes narrowed while he studied them.

Kayla's face flushed again, and there was fire in her eyes. "Come on, Dad. We took down everything you threw at us. Even at four to one odds."

Dillon put a hand up, and she subsided. "He has a point. This is just a sim. A very good one, I'll grant you. I could drive in here all day." He turned to look at the CEO. "You want to know if we can do this for real. If we have what it takes to not just survive, but win. I'm good with my gunner, sir. These sims are the closest we're going to get to being in actual combat, and they got us damn close. I think we can win this thing."

Despite Kayla’s face lighting up at the praise, her father's face remained closed while he looked at Dillon straight in the eyes. The young man felt the weight of that gaze, and he returned the look with equanimity. After several seconds, the CEO nodded. "Just what I thought you would say. Okay, then. If you two want to be a team, we've got a team."