The gap between now and then is daunting. How is Clarke supposed to start the conversation again, when their only interactions in the interim have been forced socialization for work? When the last two times they’ve spoken privately, they’ve dragged each other’s sore spots into the light? They know each other well enough to know how to hit where it hurts, and any conversation about Clarke’s future with Elemental is going to be painful enough to begin with.
She hasn’t called him. She’s notgoingto call him. She is strong enough to do this on her own, no matter how much she misses him.
“I want to see how the meeting goes,” Clarke says as a notification scrolls across the wall of her cabin. All the passengers who want to go to Luna, not Earth, need to make their way to the breakaway cruiser. “And the first few races back from break. If we’re still in this position then…yeah. We’ll talk about it.”
“If you’re sure,” Rhynn says.
“I am,” Clarke lies, and ends the call quickly with excuses about getting to the breakaway cruiser.
(A traitorous voice in her head adds: What if Rhynn puts out feelers, and no one responds? What if no one wants Clarke at all?)
11
“No.”
“Okay,” Clarke says. “Why?”
“Because it won’t work.”
“Sure. But why?”
Chief Engineer Timothy doesn’t glare. There’s nothing derisive in his tone. He just looks at Clarke, calmly, and says, levelly, “Because it won’t.”
“Maki?” prompts Elke Bonner, technical director.
Maki’s been called on as unofficial interpreter so frequently during the past two hours that Clarke hopes he’s getting paid extra for it. He obligingly scoots to the edge of his chair again and gets his hands up into the projection of the EM-83 that’s rotating above the conference table. “It’s about weighting, Clarke. The alloy you’re suggestingwouldhelp, but it’s also lighter than the blend we’re currently using, and not by an insignificant amount. We’d be under regulation weight by almost eight kilos.”
“And if we added that as ballast under my seat, it’d throw off the ship’s whole balance,” Clarke says, a few seconds ahead of that playing out on the projection after Maki’s adjustments.Eight kilograms might not sound like much when you’re talking about a 902-kilogram ship, but seeing that there’s a four-person team consisting of a nutritionist, a physician, a trainer, and a holistic medicine practitioner who all work together to keep Clarke’s body weight precisely steady throughout her menstrual cycle, she understands that an eight kilo difference isn’t tolerable.
Timothy could’ve justsaidthat.
That’s how this entire meeting has been. And okay, yes, Clarke came in hot. She’s excited to have gotten the invitation, even if it was an afterthought, and she’s desperate to show that she can add value on this side of the operation. She came prepared.
She’s not trying to tell anyone how to do their job. She knows a good amount about ships, like every pilot, but is well aware that she’s not an expert in the way the engineers and mechanics are. She is, however, an expert in her own flying style. Her ideas are specific, targeted ways next year’s ship could be altered so that she’s not constantly battling her own machinery.
Each of her suggestions has been shot down, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that Clarke’s style as a pilot is fundamentally incompatible with some of Elemental’s core design principles. Making the modifications Clarke’s asking for would require a complete overhaul of the plan, a whole new way of thinking about ship engineering. There’s time to do it—it’s Terran July, and they don’t need the EM-83 to be track-ready until February—but they’d have to startnow, and basically write off the rest of the current season as a rebuilding year. No more upgrades to the EM-82.
Elemental would also have to commit to Clarke for that plan to work. Or, at the very least, a pilotlikeClarke, and she’s nottotally unique but there aren’t many like her floating around. She favors the adaptability and brute force of off-planet racing to the dexterity and banked power of on-planet. She brakes late. She prefers to overtake on a ninety-degree planar rotation. She relies heavily on thruster differential. A ship can be designed to make all those things easier, more efficient.
If they change the ship for Clarke, they have to keep Clarke for at least next year to reap the benefits. At the moment, Clarke’s contract expires in 130 days.
“Thanks for explaining,” Clarke says to Maki. To Timothy, she says, “Ready for my next one?”
Timothy and his rather impressive mustache do not look enthused.
Yves stands up. He’s been on and off calls, in and out of the room this whole time, so no one pays him much attention until he clears his throat. “Let’s call that lunch. Clarke, with me.”
Clarke’s supposed to eat with Amira, and Matthew and his race engineer, but those three shrug as Yves swoops out of the room. Clarke jogs to catch up.
Normally, Clarke loves Elemental Headquarters. It’s part factory, part office building, part test track. Old Elemental ships and helmets and trophies line the walls. You can feel the energy of everything Elemental’s accomplished and everything they still want to do with every step. Clarke typically feels like shebelongshere, like this place understands her drive and fire.
Now Clarke’s wondering if this is the last time she’ll feel like this walking through these halls. Yves is taking her on the familiar path to his office, crossing a skybridge that looks out over a jaw-dropping view of Mare Insularum. Why deviate from the schedule, why take Clarke to practically the other side of the compound if this isgoodnews?
Is this when he tells her that she’s not getting extended? Maybe he invited her to the meeting to make it painfully obvious that Clarke and Elemental aren’t a good fit, so his decision will make more sense. Maybe he’s just stringing her along. She thought she had at least a few more races to prove herself, but maybe he’s looking at the investment Elemental’d have to make, the effort they’d have to put into changing next year’s ship, and thinking that it’s not worth it. ThatClarke’s not worth it.
The next time Clarke takes this elevator, she might officially not have a seat for next year. The next time she passes this window over the machining floor, her dream of winning a championship with Elemental might be dead. The next time Yves swings open his office door to reveal Naomi and Sara and Julian and—
“What’s going on?” Clarke asks, stopping at the threshold of the office.