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The Air Race 9

  Zachariah spotted Lobster Castle in the distance. He smiled. The end of the second

  leg of their race loomed in the distance. All he had to do was land and validate the

  card. Then they could get cleaned up and check the Rocket out.

  The Kellers’ flying machine rested on the ground in a designated area. They hustled

  around it, looking it over for damage in his opinion.

  He didn’t want to put down next to their flying machine. He looked at the people on

  the ground. Referees in red and yellow waved him to land as close to that spot as he

  could so he could be dragged into position.

  The referee insisted with the flag in his hand.

  “We’re going to have to land next to the Kellers,” Zachariah reported. “I’m bringing

  her down now.”

  He cut the throttle and switched the system so the belly jets allowed the Rocket to

  hover. He swung into the space and let the flying machine sink down on the skids

  dropped from underneath. The referee nodded as the metal cooked the grass after the

  jets had been cut.

  Zachariah slid the window back so they could disembark. The referee waited for them

  under the nose. He held a clipper of some kind in his hand. The machinist realized

  that clipper had to mark their card to show they had landed in Lobster Castle’s field.

  He climbed down from the crew area and stood still when he touched the ground. The

  solidity felt good after the cruising vibration they had been subjected to on their

  flight.

  He turned and helped Sola down, then stepped out of the way so Bolan could make

  his own way down. Knife climbed down the wall of the Rocket and dropped to the

  ground. Hardy hovered to a landing beside Sola.

  “Do you have your card?,” said the referee.

  Hardy opened his wing case so Sola could show the referee the card. He winced at the

  spindling it had received by being hidden on the daemon. He poked out a small

  lobster’s claw on the card before handing it back.

  Sola put the card back in the wing case. Hardy chittered. She rubbed his head between

  his antennae.

  “We lost one of the racers,” said Zachariah. “I don’t know which one.”

  “The boys said there was a fight in the air,” said the referee.

  “We were attacked by a giant flying ship, and small flying machines like our own,”

  said Zachariah. “It looked like most of the others made it out all right, but we did lose

  the one. I don’t know if he’s trapped on the mountain, or dead.”

  “I will alert the Air Patrol,” said the referee. “Someone will fly out to check on the

  downed pilot.”

  “Thank you,” said Zachariah. “Do you want us to help out?”

  “Do you have any weapons on your flying machine?,” asked the official.

  “Not really,” said Zachariah. He looked at the daemons, and his crew. “I could come

  up with something if given a small amount of time.”

  “The Air Patrol are already armed,” said the referee. “Refuel and work on your

  machine if you need to. Launch time will be when the last racer arrives.”

  Zachariah nodded, but he didn’t like the fact that as soon as the last racer came in, the

  flier had to lead the parade back out again as soon as he had refueled his craft.

  It made for undue stress on the racer in last place. He frowned at what could happen

  if the flier fell asleep in the air.

  He supposed it would be all right for Sir Dormir. His tree flew by magic. It might be

  able to fly itself.

  Flying machines similar to Gear Octo’s lined up one after another on the grass field.

  A man in plain gray waved a flag to get them to launch in sequence. They vanished

  into the sky with a roar of jet engines.

  “We have an unknown amount of time to do our check and rest,” said Zachariah.

  “Sola, do we have anything left to eat while in flight?”

  “We have some sandwiches that I am keeping cool,” said Sola. “But nothing that will

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  carry us for a long trip. I thought we would have dinner here before leaving.”

  “Take Hardy and scrounge up enough dry food and water to carry us over the desert,”

  said Zachariah. “Bolan and I will go over the Rocket. As soon as you’re back, we’ll

  store everything and get some sleep. We’ll need it if we’re flying out as soon as the

  last racer comes in.”

  “Right, Da,” said Sola. “Come on, Hardy. We have to do the real work around here

  as usual.”

  Hardy chittered as they walked away to get what they could for the next leg of the

  trip.

  “All right, Bolan,” said Zachariah. “Let’s get this over with. The sooner we make sure

  everything is patched up and ready, the sooner we can get some rest for the next leg.”

  They quickly walked the length of the Rocket. Then Zachariah dropped underneath

  to look at the patches Gold Bug had performed while they were in the air. The fibrous

  mass seemed tougher than he remembered his daemon doing. He poked at it but it

  resisted his effort.

  “I am going to check the engine,” said Zachariah. “I think Gold Bug’s patches will

  hold until we get home and can replace the whole sheet.”

  “All right,” said Bolan. “This has been rougher than I thought it would be when I

  asked if we could fly in the Race last year.”

  “I admit I didn’t think I would have to hit someone in the head with a shovel,” said

  Zachariah. “We’re doing all right. The Rocket is doing better than I dreamed. All we

  have to do is get across the desert, back to Riordiana, and then to Messer’s Reach. If

  we can do that without problems, we’re set to win.”

  “We still have to beat them,” said Bolan. He nodded at the Kellers working on their

  own flying machine.

  “Maybe they will blow themselves up,” said Zachariah.

  “I hope so,” said Bolan. “Let’s look at that engine.”

  They climbed up into the Rocket and went to the rear compartment. They took down

  access panels and inspected everything. Zachariah still didn’t know what the new

  parts did, but he didn’t see any way to remove them without taking the engine apart.

  That was a huge job that he couldn’t do in the middle of the race. They would have

  to stay until the race was over unless they blew up first.

  He hoped Gold Bug had done something to make the pieces more durable than his

  usual work.

  They put everything right again with notes on what they could do if something

  happened to the pieces. Bolan and Knife could make those patches anywhere if it

  came down to that.

  Zachariah wiped his hands off on a rag. He put the rag back in its box on the wall. He

  walked forward to look out the front of the Rocket. He should have put wider

  windows on the sides to see better.

  Sola and Hardy pushed a cart on the field. She directed it to the Rocket. She waved

  at her father.

  “I bought enough for two days,” said Sola. “I concentrated on things that would do

  well at room temperature.”

  “That’s very good,” said Zachariah. He swung over the side and climbed down. “Let

  me help you with that. We’re going to have to take off when the others arrive.”

  Bolan appeared at the window. Zachariah handed up the supplies in their baskets. The

  boy pulled them in and set them at the rear of the compartment. He wiped his

  forehead when he was done with the work.

  “Are you sure this is necessary?,” asked Bolan.

  “We’ll be in the air three more days,” said Sola. “We don’t know when we will able

  to eat again. Anything we don’t use, we can share out.”

  “That sounds good,” said Zachariah. “We need to get some sleep before the rest of

  the racers come in. We’ll have to fly out as soon as everyone is accounted for and the

  rest have refueled.”

  “It’s going to be cramped in the crew quarters,” said Bolan.

  “You two take that,” said Zachariah. “I’ll sleep in the engine room.”

  “There’s even less space in there for you,” said Sola.

  “I will be fine,” said Zachariah. “Did we pack blankets? I don’t remember.”

  “Yes, we did,” said Sola. “I put them in the locker next to the tool locker.”

  “All right,” said Zachariah. “Let’s button up. The faster we get some sleep, the better

  we’ll be when we launch.”

  “Right,” said Bolan. “Guard duty?”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Zachariah. He watched the referees

  checking the field for the racers to land on. “I will ask Gold Bug to keep an eye on

  things for us.”

  “And how will he warn us?,” asked Bolan.

  “I was thinking he could chew any potential saboteurs to pieces,” said Zachariah.

  “I think we can have Knife do a better job than that,” said Bolan.

  “Can he stand guard for us?,” asked Zachariah.

  Knife popped out an array of weaponry to show he was ready to carve up anyone

  trying to get at the Rocket. A torch lit up to emphasize his point.

  “All right,” said Zachariah. “You’ll have to decide what the best place to keep an eye

  on everything will be. We’re going to lock down. If you have someone you don’t

  think you can shoot without causing a problem, use the sounder to wake us up.”

  Knife nodded. He had already decided that he could project a force ball around the

  Rocket to protect it for the few hours they would be on the ground. He could rest in

  his web while they were in the air.

  “All right,” said Zachariah. “Let’s see what we can get done. We don’t know how

  long we have before we need to launch.”

  He gestured for Sola to climb up. He followed her. He slid by to the storage locker

  and pulled out a set of blankets. He split them so each of them could have one. Then

  he helped them bed down on the floor next to their stations. He pushed the window

  closed and locked it. Hardy lay down next to Sola, eyes alert for trouble.

  Zachariah went into the engine room. He braced the door open because he wasn’t

  quite sure if he should be spending a lot of time around the engine when he wasn’t

  fixing it. He pulled the blanket around him as he sat down with the door at his back.

  He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.

  Visions of floating battleships danced through his head as he nodded off. If he scaled

  up the gravity engine, he could lift something a hundred times heavier than the

  Rocket. He just needed material to build it.

  He pondered on how to get tons of metal pounded into sheets as he dropped off.

  Maybe he could get Brother Rabbit to help him out there. The pooka must know of

  a smith that could do the job.

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