Serendipity (Book 1 of the Dana Halliday series)

SHAN. THE VOLSHOTH BREN. PRAISE TO THE WATER.

After Adrian bitched further about having to fix Serendipity's window by himself, he wished us merry good luck and promised to meet us on Tirza 50. He said he expected to catch at least the end of the race—at a distance. This was with an audible wink at Flynt, and then he signed off.

Tirza 50 is the watery moon of a gas giant, a swirling orange monster named Naiccora. As I'd said, I hadn't gotten to sample much of the local flavor on our first visit. I crouched in midair between the two pilot's seats, gazing in silence as we slipped by the menacing planet—it was larger than Jupiter—and on to the little blue gumball of its friendlier moon.

I was more amazed—almost—by the crowd of ships and vessels gathered over the planet's largest continent. This was a landmass like Australia on steroids. Down there was Tadscas, on the coast; at the moment I couldn't tell northern from southern, western, or otherwise. Up here, there seemed at least a continent's worth of ships.

There were expansive vessels that reminded me more of space stations than ships. There were frisbee-shaped things like the Tirzen surveyor I'd seen in the Sard hangar. There were flocks of the little Mirra racing vessels, some sleek and shiny and new, some rougher around the edges like Novernyi's. There was something at the farthest edge of the globe, that, I swear to you, looked bone-shaped like the Satellite of Love from Mystery Science Theater. Everywhere, lights flashed, shadows shifted, stark metal reflected, and, as we entered the outskirts of the crowds, blurred faces suggested themselves at windows.

I looked round, discovering that Flynt had vacated the co-pilot's seat. He had floated past me and hunkered down in the passenger seats, silently enough that I hadn't noticed. I moved to the co-pilot's chair and belted myself in.

"We're not late?" I asked.

"Nyet. Plenty of time." Novi poked at the virtual screen and spoke in Sturv Standard, announcing her arrival to some unknown official.

The answer came back in an efficient monotone. Then there was a spritelier voice, and Novernyi laughed. 

"You should count yourself lucky, Shan Kolgar," she said, again in Standard. "I always improve your score, don't I?"

"There were so many rumors," returned the unseen speaker. "Are you quite all right, sister?"

"I will be wonderful once I win this race." Novi's voice was all confidence, though she grimaced a bit. "We shall discuss strategy at the starting line, yes?"

Shan Kolgar, whoever he or she was, said something mildly disparaging, and Novi laughed again. 

"Friend of yours?" I asked.

"In some ways.  She is definitely an ally." She pecked at the screen again, saying, "Ailwor! Where are you?"

We waited for a few moments, and Novi explained, "A...friend." She glanced at me and added, kindly, "Some privacy?"

"Oh." I wasn't sure how much privacy I could give her in that tin can. "Sure, yeah. I'll just go sightsee."

I floated back to the passenger seats. Flynt had put his hood up and was gazing out the window.  Maybe he'd finally gotten cold.  In the feeble light from the cockpit and the windows, he had a wan ghost's face; even his eyes looked washed out. 

I "knelt" two inches above the seat and looked out over his covered head, holding on to a seat belt with one hand and his shoulder with the other. "Someone looking in?"

Flynt made a noncommittal sound. "I certainly hope not."

"Good." I fell silent for a bit, gawking at the plethora of space vessels. Novi was speaking in soft, stuttery Prechoru up in the cockpit. "I don't see any like ours."