Elroy Jetson's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Elroy passed the dawn trial. His hands held under the clock. But the race course they posted that afternoon showed him a new problem. The gaps were tight. Tighter than anything he had flown. He walked the layout twice and knew the truth cold. His racer was tuned for open sky, not these narrow turns. Fly it as-is, and he would clip a gate and wreck before the finish. He found Tinker in the shed, wiping grease off his hands. Beside the half-built buggy, a stranger crouched over an engine, blonde hair catching the light. He held a meter to the wiring and read it without blinking. Tinker nodded at the man. "Axel. He keeps a dead ship flying on nothing. Figured he could look at your racer." Axel stood. He looked at Elroy, then past him, like part of him was somewhere else. "Tinker says your turns are too loose," he said. "Show me the suspension." Elroy pulled the panel. Axel ran a finger along the shocks. "Too soft. The nose dives in a hard turn. You clip." He said it flat, no cushion. "Stiffen the front springs. Shorten the throw. You lose comfort. You keep the gaps." "How long?" Elroy asked. "Few hours. If you help." They worked past dark. Axel handed Elroy a wrench and pointed, never softening a step. When Elroy over-tightened a bolt, Axel caught it at once. "Back it off. Quarter turn. Guessing wrecks ships." Tinker worked the throttle linkage, calling timing numbers Elroy trusted now. Halfway through, Axel paused, meter still in hand. "My brother never learned this part," he said. "The wiring. The careful part." He did not explain. He went back to the shock. Elroy did not ask. He saw the weight on the man and left it alone. Near midnight they rolled the racer out and locked the panels. Axel wiped his hands. "Test it slow first. Then push." Elroy climbed in and lit the engine. He took it low over the practice markers. The first tight turn came fast. He cut the nose in. The racer held. No dive. No slide. He threaded a gap he once would have feared, and the frame did not fight him. His reaction speed and the new springs moved as one. He set it down and cut the engine. His chest was steady. "It holds," he said. Axel nodded once. "It holds." Tinker grinned. "Now you can actually race." But as the engine ticked and cooled, Elroy saw the fuel gauge. The stiffer setup burned harder in the turns. He had tuned the racer to survive the gaps. He had not tuned it to finish on one tank. The qualifying heat ran the full course. At this rate, he would run dry before the final lap.