Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

United Kingdom, Race Day

P4 & P10 for our drivers! Bring on the race! - @JaguarF1

⸻

ENGLAND
10TH RACE OF THE SEASON
JULY

The pressure is on. I have a great starting position, on my home track, ahead of all but one of the other favourites. This is my race to lose.

My eyes watch the gantry as the last cars pull into the back of the grid. I am determined to get off the line faster than Leclerc. I will end up on the podium. I want it. More than anyone knows. Getting this podium, on my first year, will prove I was worth the signing. Nevermind the other two podiums. This one matters. This is my home race. I will perform. I will drown out all doubts with this race. Especially now that I have an even bigger reason to fight: my parents are here. They have been invited to the race day. Mum and Dad will be in the garage, watching, listening, waiting for me to make them proud.

The lights flick out, my engine snarls as I get off the line before Leclerc - there's a roar from the crowd. Norris must have the lead. I can just about hear the crowd, but they're quickly drowned out. Behind me, Russell has forced Leclerc back. He won't do the same to me. He'll have to pry this position from my cold, dead hands.

Piastri doesn't want me to fight him, and I'm fine with that. I just want to stick on him, because Russell and Leclerc are tussling behind me for P5. I don't want to be so close that I'm stuck solely in the dirty air of the McLaren, but I need to keep myself safe enough to not have to change our strategy for the race.

Ahead of me, as we get into the heat of Lap 4, Verstappen slinks past a slightly slowed Norris. Behind me, I see Russell kicking up sparks, but he's not fighting Leclerc. He must be fighting Sainz. Or maybe Alonso. Doesn't matter which, as long as they keep him busy as all hell.

"McLarens are aiming for a 2-3." Mateo sounds focused. He must be putting his brain through the ringer, crunching numbers as they come in.

"That changes nothing." I say as I fly past Stowe, barely needing to brake.

"Agreed."

I'm a good distance from Leclerc and Russell now, but I can't lay off Piastri. I don't want to overtake yet, I just want him to know that I'm coming for him. Even as the wind tries to throw all the cars around - there's a reason this used to be an RAF base - I'm staying on Piastri's backside. I want to wear him down. I have 42 laps to go. Plenty of time to make him slip up. Plenty of time to wait in P4, watch, and prepare to strike.

"Ocon retiring. No idea why."

"Copy."

"Pace is good, you're now three seconds ahead of the pack."

Beautiful. The bigger the gap, the better our chances are. The pit window for anyone who chose to start on softs will open up soon. We'll pit later, though. We're using mediums, holding onto our last set of softs as an emergency, in case it rains, and we have to use inters for a large portion of the race.

"When is the rain expected to hit? Or are we clear now?"

"Rain nearby, but it might not hit now, wind is variable, can't be certain."

"Copy."

I could swear there's a few minor drops of water a few minutes later, but if the wind is pushing as hard as it feels like it is... that could be the rain from the cloud passing by the track. It might not actually hit us.

"We still expecting a Sunday Driver?"

It's a coded message. One that Mateo will understand, and perhaps the commentators on the TV broadcast teams. It's a gentle question: Are we expecting a safety car?