Race to the Finish by Craig Martelle & Scott Moon

Author:Craig Martelle & Scott Moon [Martelle, Craig & Moon, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Race Day

Ships lined one side of the stadium airfield. Overdressed guards kept spectators back. Thaddeus wondered how many of them had any real training. Some looked like they had been soldiers. Others had the swagger of professional bouncers in long-sleeve shirts to cover epic tattoos. Not that soldiers didn't have tattoos. There was just something different about saloon coolers. They made their living handling drunks without discouraging them from getting drunk. Am I just a cooler for the Company Man?

He was relieved to see that SagCon hadn't brought its private army. Sledge denied being part of the LAR operation. He was somewhat vague as to why he was there, in fact. Pierre complained more than once that the man was only there to court Dixie and distract Dixie's girls from their regular duties. Thaddeus hadn't asked many questions about the SagCon Special Investigator. He considered the man a friend, and more importantly, a good friend to have if there was a fight. As far as he knew, Sledge was up in the stands with the other spectators.

P. C. Dickles ordered his mechanics around as though they were working in the mine. He had a way of leading from the front, even though he knew nothing about airships or their construction. Shortly after Thaddeus returned from his test flight, the amateur but very dedicated airship enthusiasts had painted “Calico” on both sides of the ship using florescent orange safety paint. So now his ship was a mixture of gray, tan, and primer green, with huge orange letters rimmed in bright yellow.

Thad patted the ship as he walked around it and checked his preflight list.

Other pilots followed the same routine, even LeClerc. Despite being a complete scumbag and someone Thad considered to be a pampered, overprotected, silver spoon-fed, pretty-boy here to charm and then betray Shaunte, the man was a thorough and professional LAR pilot. Thad stared at him, hoping the man would get sucked into a wing turbine or pulverized by an antigrav pulse.

Beyond LeClerc and his copilot, William, were Dixie’s girls performing their preflight show. It wasn’t a regulation standard routine, but a vaudeville performance complete with music, cleavage, and tips. It looked like every one of their fans from the Mother Lode was there to demonstrate their support and cop a feel.

Sledge walked around the TDG airship in a work jumpsuit. “You assholes get back. No touching the pilots!”

The crowd rolled away like a wave retreating from a beach.

“Sledge! They were throwing money at us,” Chelsie complained.

“I’ll throw my fist! They’ll get you both killed if something damages one of these turbines or antigrav bundles,” Sledge said.

Mast stepped close to Thad. “What is he doing touching their ship? I thought he only muchly wanted to touch them.”

“I’m sure he touches them plenty,” Thad muttered. “Thanks, Sledge! Would have been nice to know you could fix a ship!”

Sledge turned, barely hearing Thad over the noise of ships and angry TDG fans. He waved distractedly.

“Look at that Judas. Never seen a guiltier face,” Thad said.

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