Race

"Soot comes through the twelfth ring into the stadium and down towards the start of the thirtieth lap, that's the midpoint of the race, Bob, he's not showing any signs of slowing down."

"He isn't, it's mind-boggling. He was half a second quicker than anyone else again that lap and it doesn't even look like he's really trying."

"We keep talking about this, but that extra ICDA inspection at Tenebrae before the race start… Is it possible that there's foul play at Tenebrae?"

"Hmmmm, I don't think so, Sam. If you just looked at the timesheets, and Soot leading by sixteen seconds, you'd think that, but look at him flying. He doesn't look strained, doesn't look wired or doped, Phoebe's relaxed up on his back. I don't know anything you could do to a dragon that could keep him in that condition artificially for this long and not be very obvious."

"So what's the secret, then? Soot's been weak at mountain courses, why this sudden effortless dominance, do you think?"

"Some of it may be the course, the fast parts are long, sure, but all of them follow from tight manoeuvres, and Soot can carry speed so much more comfortably from the dive through seven and eight onto the back straight than the others."

"That can't be all of it, surely? When he struggled so much at Gutefjellet and Karhuntassu?"

"Well, there's a difference there. Those are true mountain races, starting at the base and ascending to the summit. Here we're in the mountains, but the total ascent is less than a thousand feet. Boddelen is three times that. But I agree, we've never seen a dragon fly like this here."

"So what is it? I hate to dredge up unsavoury rumours again, but we're running out of legitimate explanations."

"I think we owe it to Phoebe to leave those rumours out of it if we can. If it is foul play, the scrutineers will find it, one way or another. But it's been thirty years since we last saw a lunar dragon in the Imperial League, Sam, and much longer since we saw one that was truly competitive. This course wasn't built until the early 40s, and there's no other course at this altitude."

"Lap forty-eight, one minute forty-four point four," Petunia said into her mic. "The gap to Niki is twenty-one seconds."

Phoebe didn't answer. She didn't need to. Apart from occasional confirmations with Adelie that everything still looked fine – it did – she wasn't saying much at all. When she did come on the radio, she sounded more like she was out for an afternoon leisure flight.

"Ms Platt?" The inquiry startled her, and she grabbed her mic on reflex, covering it to keep the conversation out of the general channel. A chill seized at her shoulders, dreading another interruption from the scrutineering team. She forced herself to take a long, slow breath, then looked round.

Ches stood there, without his headset, frowning at a point on the table in front of her. Petunia pulled her headset down, flipping the microphone out of the way altogether. "What's up, Ches?"

"May I speak to you for a moment?" He spoke stiffly, quietly, a lot more formally than she was used to from him. For a moment he met her eyes, then looked away towards the back of the room. Petunia's shoulders didn't relax.

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She started to answer, then caught herself. Holding up a finger in Ches' direction, she fumbled her headset back on and hit the transmit button. "Phoebe? I'm going off-mic for a few minutes, be right back."

"Okay."

Petunia slipped the headset off and set it on the table next to the laptop. She almost reached up to flip the laptop's lid closed, but stopped herself. She never normally put it down when she stepped away to go to the restroom, it was too much of a hassle reconnecting to the live timings, and there wasn't that much on there that was private.

She stood and followed Ches over to the back corner, where everyone went when they wanted a quiet word with someone. It would draw attention, and she found herself looking over her shoulder, but what other option was there for anything like privacy? Once Ches was leaning against the wall, Petunia folded her arms and said, "What's up?"

"It's Soot's performance." He clearly didn't really want to be doing this. Although his posture was usually lax, he seemed particularly hunched right now. "Adelie could be right about lunar drakes being better suited to high altitude, but… I understand that you and Phoebe have your reasons for keeping Soot's origins secret, especially with the stud rights deals, but can you give us any assurance that he's not- that this isn't…" doping, was that what he'd been about to say.

"Phoebe wouldn't do anything like that," Adelie said without hesitation. "You've seen how much Soot means to her, right? She wouldn't do anything to put him or the team at risk. Don’t listen to the rumours too much, yeah."

"I'm sorry," he shrugged, not looking much brighter. "I don't mean to imply anything, it's just… I've never seen anything like this."

"That makes two of us, huh," Petunia said, trying to sound cheery. "It's about time we caught a real break, though, right?"

"Hm. Thank you, Ms Platt." Ches gave her a quick nod and started to walk back to his station.

Petunia watched him go, her bones feeling cold, her joints stiff. She wouldn't do anything to put him or the team at risk. How had she been able to say that without flinching?

"Here she comes, Phoebe Tenryuu brings Soot back into the stadium to close out her fourth win of the season, listen to that from the crowd. And Bob, she's really kicked her way back into the championship conversation with this."

"She was never that far out of it, but yeah, she's back up into second, only five points behind Lucia, and I've said before that the next few courses are likely to favour her."

"Look at Soot coming in to land, he looks like he's just been out doing a warm-up wing-stretch."

"He does, I thought if there were any weakness in him we might see it there, but it really looks like the altitude doesn't hurt him at all. Incredible stuff, what a dragon."

"Indeed, and he's going to be alone down there for almost half a minute, he's outflown the field by that much. Phoebe looks a bit the worse for wear."

"Aye, that's not a surprise. Soot might be a miracle but Phoebe's as human as the rest of us, and if I'm feeling it she definitely will be."

"Well, she gets to feel the triumph alongside it at least. Fair play to Niki Coro coming round now in second, too, ze's held off Lucia Aelschu brilliantly in this final stint of the race."

Phoebe rubbed her forehead again. She felt like she was staring at a screen that was slightly too bright. The sun seemed stronger in the mountains, even though the sky was patchy with cloud. She stood in the podium pen, trying to force herself to drink from the complementary water bottle, while Stefan, Adelie, and a cluster of ICDA techs crowded around Soot.

It seemed like an age before Incandesia swooped down to land next to the huddle. One of the ICDA guys broke away to join the Lautern personnel who went out to meet her. The gold looked tired, her neck drooping as she sank into a crouch. Soot craned over to look at her and coughed a gentle inquiry. The face she turned up to him was reminiscent of a hungry labrador.

Niki started to walk over to the pen, not looking too steady zirself. Phoebe grabbed a second water bottle and started to toss it to zir, then stopped, holding it out for zir to take instead. Something about the look on zir face warned against too much levity.

Ze took the bottle with a dull "Congratulations."

"You too," Phoebe said, trying to brighten the energy up. "Sounded like you had a great scrap with Lucia."

Behind Niki as ze drank, Lucia Aelschu was sliding off Olympia's neck and beginning her own approach to the pen. Niki said, "How'd you do it? You'd better not be treating him badly."

The tone was harsh, but Phoebe tried to chalk it up to fatigue and strain. "We don't know either, he just loves it up here. Mountain dragon, I guess."

Niki didn't say anything more, but ze held Phoebe's gaze, stony-faced, for a long moment until Lucia's greeting broke the tension.