Brim grunted; her dusky nipples showed through the wet fabric as if she had nothing on.
"Probably I ought to take you home before things really get nasty," he urged. "What do you say we call it a night?"
Romanoff melted into the arm he placed gently around her shoulder. "I'd like that," she said quietly. Then she shook her head. "Mother always warned me to stay away from starsailors—and I wouldn't listen."
"Let's hear it for disobedience," Brim whispered, lifting her to his arms and starting along the path toward her skimmer. Tomorrow promised to be a long day.
Brim and Moulding were aloft by late morning and spent most of the day testing their M-6B's for all they were worth. As customary, the race course was triangular in shape, defined by three solitary, type-G stars: Delta-Gahnn, Onita, and Laneer, none with satellites. Course entry was close by Delta-Gahnn, nearest of the three to Avalon at 430 light-years' distance. From there, a long straightaway of 269.2 light-years stretched to Onita, where a sharp turn led to the shortest leg of 149.8 light-years. Following this, a mild angle around Laneer and a second long straightaway of 243.20 light-years returned the course to its entry point.
Starliners from every known dominion traced along the course at HyperSpeed, carrying spectators who paid considerable sums for a chance to see the racers whiz past at close range. But even two hundred-odd spectator ships, with thirty-one military patrol vessels, counted for little more than dust motes when considered within the context of the actual distances involved.
Approaching his first circuit with the Wizard rumbling comfortably at his back, Brim felt the narrow red damper beam warm his hand, then gently urged it farther toward open, keeping the hot spot centered in his palm. Setting a course around Delta-Gahnn at high speed, he edged into the race lane and headed out over the first long leg for distant Onita—only a pinpoint in the forward Hyperscreens but growing rapidly as he picked up speed. Scant cycles later, he took that angle as closely as possible (with the crystal temperature nearing redline), then practically bunted the short leg to Laneer and entered the second long straightaway back to Delta-Gahnn and the race-circuit entrance. IMPERIAL M-SIX B ALPHA TO HYPERDROME, he KA'PPAed. REQUEST TIMING, THIS RUN.
His display directly manifested a message: HYPERDROME TO IMPERIAL M-SIX B ALPHA,TIMING IS AFFIRMATIVE.
M-SIX B ALPHA Brim KA'PPAed. While he bent the little ship around the distant emerald star, a small display began to blink above the left Hyperscreen—first orange as he tweaked the damper toward OPEN again, then green as he passed through the timing beam and started along the circuit.
Charging into an approach tangent at about a quarter million c'lenyts distance, he trailed the gravity brakes a little, juggled the damper closed for the interval of a heartbeat, then rolled a half-turn and hit the steering engine hard to port. Instantly, the tail hung out, twitching while he tested gravity flow into the star. When he sensed the ship was precisely aligned, he willed the damper open and rode around the curve, tensing himself for the one perfect instant when he was lined up on the next lap, while the artificial cabin gravity struggled to shield him from colossal centrifugal forces that could mash his frail body to a reddish blob in his recliner. Scanning between his instruments and the Hyperscreens, he tensed, searching for his first glimpse of Laneer moving out from occlusion behind the small blue orb that was Onita.... Now! He eased the damper forward and smoothly unwound the steering, feeling the M-6B spring forward into the straightaway as if it were something alive. Behind him, the new Wizard/2 thundered deafeningly through a bulkhead, its prodigious growl nearly unbearable even in his battle suit.
After this, he simply continued in a flattened curve some two hundred thousand c'lenyts out from snowy white Laneer, then blasted off down the second straightaway while the crystal-head temperature again worked its way toward redline. Cycles later, with Delta-Gahnn a large emerald ball some 450,000 c'lenyts off to port, he skidded the M-6B into another extravagant highspeed curve until the green timing light returned to yellow and the average velocity meter read—his eyes widened with surprise—average speed, 98.21M LightSpeed: a new galactic record!
When he finally hauled back on the damper beam, the Wizard/2 spun down with a sound that approached a sigh of relief. Brim nodded to himself. His Leaguer competition would need one xaxt of a ship to win this year! Steering a gentle curve back to Avalon, he wondered if the Gantheisser engineers had been able to come up with it.
Less than a metacycle later, as he taxied in to the shed area, he lifted the visor of his helmet and slid open the windward Hyperscreen. Cool spray and fragrant lake air instantly filled the bridge, refreshing his face and soothing the gas-dried membranes of his eyes and nose. A storm front during the afternoon appeared to have rejuvenated the whole Universe. All the great bluffs around Avalon's ancient HyperDrome were now awash in delicate mauves and pinks while an early-evening sky glowed in palest peach, dabbed here and there by scudding lavender remnants of the storm. Across the choppy water, a sizable crowd had gathered near the ramp, jumping and waving as he approached. Clearly, news concerning his last circuit had spread rapidly through the racing community. He could hear cheering when he turned upwind and headed for the ramp. In spite of himself, he grinned with genuine exhilaration. He had a galactic speed record in his pocket, and even though it wasn't official, he had an undeniable sense of confidence that he, along with Valerian's magnificent M-6B, could handle anything the Leaguers might field.
Brim steered his sleek little starship up the seaweed-encrusted ramp, then drew to a hovering stop over on Sherrington's portable gravity pad as technicians wearing huge reflective mittens raced to secure the optical moorings. He fought back waves of nausea as he switched to planetary gravity, then powered off a final set of systems and opened the hatch, climbing out onto the ship's light blue hullmetal amid wild cheering and whistles. Moments later, two technicians carefully placed a boarding ladder near his feet, and he climbed down to what seemed like a thousand hands, all either waiting to be shaken or to clap him on the back. Significantly, no one seemed the least interested in the large bruises under both eyes; race drivers had a rough reputation. It was a long time before he could work his way through the crowd of well wishers to where Romanoff stood in white sweater and slacks atop the seawall, her lovely face wearing the same mysterious smile she'd had for him the first night they'd made love. Then he found himself smothered in warm, wet kisses that were—in their own way—better than any speed record he could imagine.