Five minutes into the clash and already Cenn was yanking her gauntlet from the belly of a meck. Daiko watched her spit to the side with satisfaction through the cockpit feed—a habit, she told him, she picked up as a cadet in the CORP long ago. She once asked Daiko if he’d consider adding a head to her meck, one with a digital face plate to properly heckle her opponent during a match.

  “Sure,” he’d said, surprising her and everyone else in ear shot. “In fact, while we’re breaking meckanist orthodoxy, how about a pair of large butterfly wings? One bad idea deserves another, after all.”

  Cenn vaulted over the KO’d meck, pushing deeper into the maze and angling toward the arena where the dash mecks raced from end to end undisturbed—for now. Daiko’s holo dinged as the additional KO point was adjudicated in real-time and credited toward the Westwood Motors score. On Daiko’s holo and the stadium leaderboard, one of the two pilot cards for the Maker’s Lark team dimmed.

  Cenn was fury incarnate, though Mina might use the term infuriating instead, but not everyone could be the matador in a fight. Sometimes what you needed was a bull.

  To his side, Mina clucked on cue.

  “She nearly burned out the portside repulsors,” Mina slid a display from her slab onto Daiko’s holo, “had she kept the well open any longer the hydraulics would’ve snapped. It’s too soon to be this reckless.”

  “Some might call that good timing, little hammer.”

  Cenn whooped, taking the next corner at full tilt. Instead of braking, she threw her arms against the wall to direct her momentum. She pushed off with both hands, spinning to complete the turn, and clipping her shoulder against the wall, but otherwise didn’t lose much in terms of speed.

  Impact data streamed into Daiko’s holo. He expanded the flashing status window to see her meck’s 3D rendering, and a yellowed portside pauldron. Eight years as a SportMeck manager and he still marveled at how pretty the sport model interfaces were compared to the war mecks he designed and piloted before leaving the CORP. They were still fragile things in comparison, and wouldn’t last long in a real fight against the Geos on Jupiter, but they were nice to look at.

  He looked away in time to catch a flat stare from Mina, who lifted a hand to her ear just as Val—their crew chief stationed one floor below the roof—chimed in through their direct com.

  “79% integrity, sir. You might want to remind Cenn that pits won’t be open for a while.”

  Daiko met Mina’s smug smile, with a slow blink.

  “Registered, Val. Have Arthur and Roman stage the replacements. We'll be ready.”

  “Yes sir,” Val said, then muttered, “he knows we have to last that long, right?”

  Daiko looked through the duraglass roof in time to watch Snake—their team’s controller manning the pit’s main console beside Val—smack Val’s hand, point at his ear, then jab a finger toward the ceiling. A second later, the com cut out. Snake shook his head, resignation stretched across his long face.

  “She’s not wrong,” Mina’s eyes didn’t leave her slab, “if Cenn can’t clear the maze, our whole strategy is shot.”

  “I told them both to push the machines hard today, didn’t I? And where was this pessimism during the first part of the Primera?”

  “Let’s not pretend Cenn and Erin are the same class of pilot.”

  Mina’s tone was perfectly factual, though far from impartial. To her, skill and technique were far more superior weapons than raw strength or emotion. She was half right. Daiko wondered if Mina had always felt that way about piloting or if dating Erin had shaped her opinion on the matter.

  Regardless, good COPR Martials and good SportMeck pilots knew when to give pilots their leash, and trust your people to do the job you asked of them. Mina would learn that one day.

  The emcee stoked the rancor as it faded in between lap highlights.

  “Is your team still in the race? Tell me who you want to win!”

  Team cards flickered across the stadium holo. Daiko made a point to learn who their competition was only as far as it would help develop a strategy to defeat them—it was always better to focus on the what rather than who but it was damn difficult to ignore with their names blown up to the size of a billboard.

  “How do we feel about fan favorite Dark Moons changing their team colors this season?”

  The stadium feed cut to the Dark Moon clash meck—with its putrid salmon paint job—squaring up against an opponent in white. Laughter rippled across the stadium. Besides minor armament differences, color was the only real distinction between mecks. Unless of course you were one of Daiko’s mecks.

  As the Westwood Motors card appeared, and his mecks were put on display, there was a satisfying pause in the crowd’s cheering. Both mecks appeared more lightly armored, though that wasn’t entirely true. They’d just focused more on speed and mobility than was common practice. Erin was the extreme case. With the rest of the dash mecks fitted with heavier armor for the clash, Erin’s meck looked like a lithe dancer. Compared to the larger and gladiatorial clash mecks out there, Erin was a lone David in a field of Goliaths.

  “Curio Distinct makes a pass, and rookie Erin Kage just lets him by!”

  Daiko dismissed the replay of Curio Distinct’s dash meck making the pass, and expanded Erin’s governing board feed. The predictive immersion sync—his life’s work—glowed content. When asking Cenn and Erin to push the mecks today, this is what he actually meant.

  Though Mina’s mother would kill Daiko for the working-name he’d come up with, P.I.S. was the brain child of his meckanist dogma, consisting of his engineering and practical prowess, and Sora’s almost mystical approach to biomechanics. Sometimes he wondered what they could’ve accomplished had he not waited so long to really consider her ideas. With her beautiful mind, they could’ve convinced the CORP to support what he saw as the natural evolution for mecks, but without her, he only served to insult the most important people in the Empire’s military for being deadened thinkers.

  “B.O.M.S. is first out of the maze!”

  Speaking of deadended thinkers…

  The clash meck belonged to Builder of Machine Systems, one of only two corporations contracted by the Empire to build mecks for the Asparian Meck CORP. The B.O.M.S. meck, painted in a navy blue, completed the maze just as the dash mecks entered the arena. Daiko saw a shift in the dash mecks’ movements as they made for the track on the other side of the arena. Their natural predator had arrived.

  The B.O.M.S. clash meck barreled into the pack of dash mecks, clipping one with a sweep of its arm, and obliterating another despite its reinforced plating.

  The first meck B.O.M.S. clipped nearly recovered when a sky blue dash meck sliced out of the pack to deliver a finishing blow from behind. On screen the camera caught the two blue mecks saluting each other in the same way Arthur had earlier.

  “Patriot, Brian Dellavin and Diana ‘Furious’ Furro do not miss! The reigning champions retake the lead!”

  The leaderboard shifted as KO points were distributed, raising B.O.M.S. to the very top spot, and knocking War and Strategy Enterprises to number two. The next series of feeds on the stadium holo showed a clash meck in forest green and a dash meck in lime.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “W.A.S.E. you may have won five of the last seven primeras but, like the kids say: who cares?”

  The emcee’s feed cuts were so well timed, Daiko thought he was watching a choreographed soap opera. W.A.S.E. was Asparia’s other corporation contracted to make mecks, and though the emcee tried to push an antagonistic narrative, the truth was the two companies were collaborators in their business endeavors. Most years, the Primera was just a way to market their brand to the masses. It helped that they usually dominated the event. Champion banners from Primera’s past rippled from the rafters, alongside HVM3’s ceremonial banner—most were B.O.M.S. blue, or W.A.S.E. green. There were a few other colors among the banners indicating some random team had usurped one of the two powerhouses, but each underdog victory was punctuated with a near defeat by B.O.M.S or W.A.S.E.

  The dash mecks finished their run through the arena, and rejoined the track on the opposite side, surviving to venture another lap. They’d be back soon enough and when they did, there would be more clash mecks waiting for them.

  As soon as the arena was clear, the tiles beneath the wreckage of downed mecks glowed, forming a translucent gravwell barrier, causing the mecks to float. Then the tiles directly underneath them fell away and the mecks sank into the staging hangar below. The floor resealed itself a second later, and the Primera was back to business as usual.

  “Brutal,” Mina said.

  Predictably, the leaderboard played the KO replay for the fifth time as that lap’s highlight. On the side, the dash meck’s pilot card dimmed to gray.

  Daiko flipped the coms.

  “Erin, the party’s started. Stick to the middle lane and avoid the maze outlets like the plague. We’ll push for placement when Cenn arrives.”

  Through the cockpit feed Daiko watched as Erin gave a sharp nod.

  Hitori closed the coms. He’s a good kid.

  “No withdrawal,” Mina muttered, eyes on her slab, “Estarion Design and Haroldi haven’t pulled their clash mecks out of the race.”

  “Were those the teams who lost their dash mecks just now?” Daiko asked, and she nodded. “Well why should they withdraw now?”

  “Let’s see… they’re in 40th and 52nd place in points, and just lost their dash meck—the one earning you points every lap. It’s impossible for them to win.”

  Daiko glanced at his feed which looked forward from Cenn’s chassis. She was pursuing another meck that was missing one arm. According to Mina’s route analysis, Cenn was going the wrong direction. The fleeing pilot would soon learn a hard lesson about leaving blood in the water.

  “There’s plenty of race left, “ he continued, “who knows, maybe all the dash mecks are KO’d and it all comes down to a blackout.”

  “A blackout? You really think that would happen?”

  “Just saying it’s not impossible.”

  “And wildly improbable. Even if that were to happen, Estarion Design or Haroldi would have to be the last meck standing, and rack up enough points to be ahead.”

  “True, but wouldn’t that be exciting?”

  That didn’t amuse her. He supposed she was more sensitive to the blackout scenario as that would mean Erin didn’t make it.

  There was a clang down in the pit. Daiko peered down to see Arthur kneeling next to an overturned coil tower, and was trying to pick it and himself up. Roman stood beside him rubbing his face like it hurt to watch. With a prod from Snake, Val drifted over to take care of it.

  “Let’s think,” he said to Mina as they watched the drama unfold below, “you’re Haroldi’s team manager, and your dash meck’s just been KO’d. What’s your next move?”

  Mina didn’t respond. She likely sensed the lecture coming, and thought it quicker to just let him have his say.

  “Would you quit?” He prodded.

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Stage of the race, condition of the meck, and the pilot’s state of mind.” That was a pretty good response, “If they’re about to snap, I’d pull them out.”

  “And what if the roles were reversed? Say Cenn got knocked out, would you tell Erin to call it quits?”

  “Better to quit than to risk yourself needlessly.”

  Perpetually halfway there, little hammer.

  “There’s wisdom in that at least,” he clapped his hands together then rubbed them together till they burned, “now, what’s our next move?”

  “For starters, it’d be nice if Cenn would stop chasing opponents that are running in the wrong direction.”

  Daiko chuckled at that. “Great plan. Wanna call it in?” When she shook her head, Daiko flipped his coms to Cenn’s direct channel. “Quit playing with your food, cowboy. Arena’s the other way.”

  “Almost… there….” came her clipped reply.

  On the forward facing feed, Daiko watched as she closed the gap with each stride. The first person view pulled him in, tipping his consciousness forward.

  Cenn’s prey took another corner like a frightened rabbit. She hooked the bend with one hand and surged forward, speed climbing. Sparks flew as her bladed tract pads grinded on the arena floor. She pumped her legs once, twice, three times, lancing her arm forward she grabbed the meck’s hip from behind. As soon as her grip locked she braked hard, twisting and spinning the meck like a top.

  It ricochetted off the wall, straight into Cenn’s waiting arms. She slammed it back into the stone and held it there while she accelerated. Chunks of metal fell away like she was filing granite against a grindstone. She cut her speed suddenly and released, letting the pile of scrap fly forward.

  “They don’t make these things to last, do they sir?” Cenn said. To Daiko who looked at her cockpit feed, it seemed like she was looking right at him.

  “Not like us,” he replied, “now get moving.”

  She turned around, and accelerated back the way she came, “how are we looking?”

  “Erin’s about to make another pass,” Mina said, more to herself, but Cenn heard her all the same.

  “Can I have an updated route, princess?”

  For a moment, Daiko thought Mina might decline her request, but Cenn confirmed receipt a moment later.

  Daiko jumped in after looking at the map himself.

  “Looks like the fastest route is going to take you through a large chamber up ahead. The maze exit will be on the other side.”

  Mina slid another feed onto Daiko’s holo with a flourish, telling him exactly how she was feeling about Cenn telling her what to do. He smiled and took a look at the feed—it was a live look at the chamber Cenn was heading toward.

  “You’re going to have company.”

  “More food?” Cenn’s expression was one of pure and eager hunger.

  “Maybe, but ease up on the speed a bit. Let’s see if the other mecks take each other out.”

  “But if I push I can make it through the maze before Erin’s next pass.”

  “Negative,” Mina’s tone was flat, “you wouldn’t make it even at top speed with a straight line.”

  Daiko cut in before Cenn could argue.

  “Mina’s right. Your job is to get through that chamber in one piece. Avoid engaging with the other mecks unless you have to.”

  “Good plan, I hate it.” Her coms changed color as she looped Erin in, “I’m on my way. Keep to the center, avoid the—”

  “—maze outlets. I know.” Erin finished for her, “you’re late.”

  “One of us has to do the dirty work, kiddo. Be there soon.”

  The coms clicked closed.

  Erin and the rest of the pack leaders leaned into the final turn. From Erin’s forward facing feed Daiko watched him ease off the throttle just as an opponent challenged for the inside lane.

  As the emcee mocked Erin for letting someone pass him again, three more clash mecks burst into the arena from the maze. The dash mecks fell into the arena like fleeing gazelle in an open plain, and the waiting clash mecks pounced.

  Daiko understood why fans could find the first half of the Primera dull—tame, even—compared to the clash. There was precision and skill aplenty but mankind couldn’t get enough of death and destruction.

  The dash mecks tightened formation at the sight of the approaching clash mecks, closing ranks until each was no more than a dozen meters apart—the top ten dash mecks formed a smaller herd at the front, a little disjointed from the main body.

  As they passed the lap line, the B.O.M.S. and W.A.S.E. clash mecks slammed into the main body of dash mecks, aiming for target density, and steering clear of their own dash units. Another clash meck along the perimeter followed them a moment later, but a fourth clash meck streaked toward the leader pack instead.

  “Look at the chops on Ygdrasil!”

  Ygdrasil’s yellow behemoth barreled in from Erin’s left. Erin hugged the shadow of the dash meck ahead of him till the two were nearly indistinguishable. Meters from impact—just as a three-meck pileup seemed inevitable—the dash meck in front of Erin finally spooked, veering right and back into the pack.

  Ygdrasil followed hungrily, not noticing Erin slip to the left, his meck nearly flat against the arean as he slid by. Sparks flew from his hand as it grinded against the track to keep him from falling, but in a blink he popped upright and skated toward the track with the rest of the pack.

  The emcee raved about Ygdrasil’s boldness and ignored Erin’s flawless technique. Good.

  Mina’s sigh of relief was audible.

  “He’s fine, Mina.”

  He knew she wanted to rehash their decision not to bring Erin in for more armor, but logic won out. The clash had begun—and the pits were closed. There was nothing to do now but trust his team.

  Daiko shifted to Cenn’s feed where the chaos couldn’t be more different. She entered the chamber alongside half a dozen other mecks. Their hopes of avoiding a fight were gone and Cenn couldn’t have looked happier about it.

  Mina cleared her throat.

  “Yeah yeah, I got her,” he replied, and flipped open the coms.

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