Not even Tonto had it this bad...

Posted by GM (Paul) on 12-01-2001

PAZURKA - Paz City

The rest of the day passed all too quickly for a novice sky slicer with a debut championship event the next morning. Xebidos and Getthel spent the first hours after lunch working with Fuuni to work on their craft, steam-treating them for beach grit and making last refinements to the performance parameters. Although Fuuni was as quiet and morose as ever, Getthel had suffered from ever-rising spirits since Xeb joined the team. The garrulous Veknoid did his best to provide all sides of the conversation as they worked away in the repair shed.

The afternoon's light was capped by more beachside practice, by which time even unabashed admiration couldn't sustain Teri's interest as a spectator. Getthel was visibly saddened by their departure. The little pilot was almost begging the smugglers' assurance they'd be at the race tomorrow as he shook their hands multiple times each

"The pits, soon as. Don' forget!" he reminded Xeb for the umpteenth time. Then he gave them all a last, small wave. "See yo's," he said before trekking back to the house. The sandbrick manse ended the day as it had begun - spectacularly lit against the heavens, the glow of houselights an echo of the aureate dusk skies above.

After a largely restful night it dawned a gorgeous morning, the three smugglers enjoying another airbus journey across the sparkling Pazurkan seas. Within an hour they were passing over the squat towers and clustered bungalows of Aren City, their attention soon drifting to the island stadia at the northern coast. The stands were towering multi-tiered structures rooved in sunstruck pazurmite, and curved like matching minor arcs of a circle. For the race they had been raised on hover spiles and shifted to brace the course on its north and south sides, with vast tracts of land behind each paved over with semiperm for speeder parking. Even with a good hour or so before the official entertainment began both lots were seeing heavy traffic with amphipods and public transports scattering in all directions. The tarmac about the entrances was choked by a slow-moving flood of patrons eager to steal the best vantage points.

Almost as if it please his passengers, the airbus pilot gave the course itself one slow circle before angling towards a docking platform. A large grey sandhill dominated the scene, with a mirror-like pond nestled in the curve between the two unequal peaks near the main stand. On the other side the course had been landscaped with a thick but narrow band of the dark, bristly palms native to the planet. With several events to precede the Open itself, the race route hadn't yet been marked out, and as the bus swooped low towards the main stand the smugglers could see glimpses of activity from these first participants around the covered pit sections in the shadow of either grandstand. Despite the overkill on colourful pennants and banners, the view might have made for a dull, even average sight given the predominance of greys and browns and the relative scale of the occasion. But with the light flashing off pinkish steel, and the whole setting engelled by the warm tones of the Pazurkan sky, sea and people, even the most jaded traveller could feel the tug of fond sentiments and excitement. Somehow the sun made everything all right.

And piling off the airbus at the docking station, our heroes were soon immersed in this wave of positive goodwill as the crowd swept them along to the gates. There came their first trial for the day - somehow Getthel had forgotten to issue them with racers passes to get inside. It took some persuasion, but finally the Pazurkan tender acquiesced and rang through to the Lerros Group pits. Instead of a sheepish Getthel it was Fuuni who arrived with their passes and tickets for the rest of the crew.

"You better hurry," he said curtly, turning immediately to lead the way. "Mistress is discussing tactics."

Under the cover of the Pazurmite sheaths the race pits were a long dugout following the inner curve of the grandstands, sealed with semiperm to create adjoining rooms, ramps to the track and divisions between competing groups. By nature the Pazurkans were inclined to applaud competing over actual winning however, and they had left open doorways to "promote good sportsmanship" between the various camps. Not surprisingly, team guards had been set up in fairly short order, and the development of any important discussion resulted in a swift withdrawal to the nearest secure room.

It was here that Fuuni led the trio, the Phindar slumping into a corner seat to pick over his nails while the others found their own seats in the hot, bare room. There were two of the ubiquitous Lerros escorts standing in the opposite corners, looking politely bored while Xvrena stood over the table and her racers like a schoolmistress lecturing pupils. The Falleen had managed to both dress for the day and not dress at all. She should have been sweltering in a thick, floor-length cape of mostly black, but also red and green feathers, each the size of a small datapad. But as she moved her audience caught a glimpse of the attire underneath - a full but almost sheer navy body-stocking that left little to the imagining. Maybe it was just the garb, or the morning air. But while the elder woman had been stunning yesterday, today the glory of her was enough to stop the heart.

Not that her "pupils" were fixating on their superior's charms in reputable adolescent fashion. Indeed, Taytul and Getthel, both decked out in their racing gear, seemed very sombre and kept their eyes on the datapad before them. The only other being in the room sat beside them quite nonchalantly. Stocky at about five foot tall, except for the legs, face, and skinny, twisted tail, this one was covered in short, thick grey fur that curled at the ends. His brutish, bovine face seemed to assess Xeb critically as they entered, dark red-rimmed eyes betraying an unexpected intelligence. Then he just snorted loudly and let his attention drift back to wherever it'd been.

Xvrena greeted the Twi'lek with far greater warmth. A sweep of her arm indicated his seat, complete with datapad, and offered another tantalising flash beneath the cape. Teri scowled.

"Ahh, I was wondering if I'd have to send out a search party," she said with the barest hint of testiness. But then her face flushed with renewed warmth. "And visitors!" she smiled specifically at Ahrkid before returning to slaver Xebidos with attention.

"The Instructions for Racers are offered on the pad before you. Peruse them, they will answer your questions. For now there is one thing you need to know. First, this is Rooko Zhoo," she pointed to the furred snorter, "team champion and your designated leader. He wins, we all win... it's your job to make that happen."

Xvrena allowed a beat, then continued. "Your task is simple. You will each have a prime target to disrupt, harry, or crash. Destroy their race, then move on to a target of your own choosing. Caution," she broke off to redirect her attention to Xeb specifically. "Disobey these instructions and forfeit any claim on the winnings," She flashed a vivacious smile about the group. "Is that clear?"