Clarke skims the message. It’s short. Straightforward. Suggests a meeting time and place, four days from now. “I’m interested. Confirm the meeting, please.”
“Done and done.” Rhynn props their screen up again. “Okay, where were we?”
36
The last off-planet track ofthe season is Wormhole Wonderland, and it’s a doozy. Built for the sole purpose of hosting an F0 race, the five sections of Wonderland are broken up by wormholes (planar compressors, really, but everyone agreeswormholessounds better). You fly into a flat blue disc that cuts across the track, you fly out of a flat white disc on a new section of track a half kilometer away. There’s nothing quite like it anywhere else in the solar system, though not for lack of trying. (Wormhole tech isn’t stable at scale. Humanity learned that one the hard way; it’s why the Galilean colonies are still so isolated.)
Lennox Redfoot finds Clarke on an observation deck overlooking the track early Friday morning, before the practice sessions. Before breakfast, even. Clarke’s not generally a fan of getting out of bed before she absolutely has to, but for an F0 team principal who might be looking for a pilot, she’ll make an exception.
Both Clarke and Lennox are holding travel mugs in both hands. Lennox laughs. “You asked Thierry, too?”
“He mentioned what you drink in the morning at one point.” Clarke looks at the beverage in her left hand.Beverageis agenerous term; the cup contains a pile of multicolored bite-size blocks. “Caff cubes are horrifying. Your order stuck in my head.”
“Interstellar rallying habits are hard to break.” With a practiced motion, Lennox tosses a cube from one of her mugs into her mouth. There’s acrackand agushas she breaks the shell with her teeth and the liquid inside rushes out.
Clarke shudders, remembering how she’d felt like her teeth were buzzing in her skull the one time she had caff cubes. “Thierry knows we’re meeting?”
“I told him about it yesterday,” Lennox says easily. “Asked him not to talk to you until I had a chance to.”
“It’s not his seat that we’re here to talk about, is it?”
Lennox’s face is impassive. “Would it make a difference if it was?”
Clarke’s been thinking about it. “Thierry’s a friend. He’s also an amazing pilot who’s performed incredibly well for you so far, despite having all the pressure of maintaining Enclave’s place in the rankings dropped on him after Raff left. Thierry’s contract is good for another two seasons. If you’re the type of principal who’s going to cut him early after all of this, I’m not sure you’re someone I want to work for.”
Lennox studies Clarke for another tense heartbeat. “We’re not here to talk about Thierry’s seat. But to be honest, Clarke, I’m not sure you’re someone I want working forme. Let me explain,” she continues quickly when she sees the look on Clarke’s face, and leads the way to a nearby bench.
Clarke tries to rapidly readjust her expectations as they sit and juggle their drinks (Lennox sets the ones she brought by her feet). It stings, but Lennox ishere, and Thierry would’ve warned Clarke even against Lennox’s wishes if this was just going to be another Atreus situation. There’s hope.
Lennox takes the cup of caff cubes from Clarke, pops one, and goes on. “When I decided to put my professional piloting days behind me and move into team leadership, I wanted to go somewhere I could build. A team where I’d be able to see the difference I made every day, so that when we win our first championship, I can look at my name on that trophy and know I earned it.”
Clarke feels that in hersoul, but wishes and philosophies are one thing and actual performance is another. Tentatively, Clarke asks, “You plan on Enclave Alpha being able to challenge for first place, then?”
“Within three years. You’re seeing it already with some of Thierry’s results; we’ve closed the machinery gap to Martian Motors. If we finish third this season, we’ll have the funding we need to go after Provenance and Chronicle next, and after that it all comes down to race strategy and…”
She tilts her cup to Clarke. Clarke takes the cue. “Pilots.”
“Exactly.” Lennox hits Clarke with hard focus. “A few months ago, I would’ve said you had everything I look for in a pilot except backbone. I’ve watched you let Yves grind you down. I’m not heartless, but I’m also not a therapist. Enclave is not rehab for pilots who aren’t strong enough to make it on other teams. I figured you’d wash out in a season or two, and it would be a shame to lose someone with your potential, but I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. That’s the business.”
Clarke’s hackles go up. Before she can launch into defending herself, Lennox raises a hand, palm down, and goes on. “That was my perception of you months ago, I said. Then you told Julian Casperi that the only reason he’s beating you is because his team’s richer than yours, and I thought, ‘Huh. Maybe there’s more to her.’ ”
Clarke thinks she can see where Lennox is going with this. “And then at Hanoi press, I—”
“Made me spit up twice in five minutes by eviscerating that reporter and then checking Atreus Skordi publicly? Yes. And there was also you dragging your ship across the line at Tempe Terra after your suspension failed, and your P3 at Hanoi.” Lennox shrugs. “You either aren’t as beaten down as I thought, or youwereand you’re clawing your way out of it. Either way, I’m interested.”
“But not interested enough to offer me a seat at Enclave next year?”
Lennox turns her gaze outward, to the lit-up track and the stars beyond. She’s quiet long enough that Clarke looks, too, easily finding the marble-size swirl of blue and green that is Earth. She can’t see Luna, which must be in opposing orbit right now, and Mars is on the other side of the sun.
“I don’t promise championships,” Lennox says after a minute or two. “I believe Enclave will win one day, but I don’t make promises, and I don’t hire people who need them. Enclave’s a relatively new team. If we take home the trophy in the next five years, we’ll be the youngest team that’s ever done it. I hire people who want that. Who want tofightfor that. You’ve been impressing me recently, but I’m not convinced yet that who you’ve been for the past few months is who you’ll keep being.”
It twinges, but Clarke gets it. Lennox doesn’t know her, doesn’t know that this is Clarke coming back to herself after an unintentional hiatus being a people-pleasing shell.
The thought reminds Clarke of earlier conversations with Val, about Clarke being lost. There are similarities in what Val and Lennox have talked about, but it’s like their frameworks aredifferent. Val told Clarke she wanted to help; Lennox wants Clarke to show that she’s helping herself. Val has been sympathetic and encouraging; Lennox is direct and uncompromising. Val creates space for Clarke to talk about why she’s struggling at Elemental; Lennox isn’t asking about Elemental, she’s explaining Enclave.
“Clarke?”
Clarke’s let the conversation lapse. She sits up straighter. “Sorry, was just thinking about something Val said.”