Chapter 11
“Mari?” Chris says curiously as he examines the clipboard. “Your initials are already by several things.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I mumble before sipping my free hotel coffee. I’m suffering from the late night, considering I worked another hour after Jacob left and spent another hour still trying to sleep, too angry and confused to relax. Three hours of sleep with a long day ahead does not bode well.
“Thank you,” he says. “The new circuit board install is great. And extra shielding on the battery compartment. Hopefully, that’ll stop a repeat of the last fight.”
“Girl, you look ready to drop,” Fatimah says, sliding up as Chris goes to talk to Travis. “I saw you sneaking out of your room last night. I was hoping it was some hot rendezvous, but you don’t look like the fun kind of tired.”
“What were you doing at the devil’s sacrament?” I tease.
She winks, her long, thick lashes batting as her eyeshadow shimmers in the light.
“Sneaking out for my own hot rendezvous.” We giggle together before Sonny appears at our station and color stains Fatimah’s round cheeks.
I give her a supportive nudge with my shoulder.
I’m happy for her. Working side by side with her has been fun and interesting; I’ve enjoyed talking about Zeta, and our own bots but also our lives.
I think we’re firmly in the friend category now, and it’s nice to see my friend happy.
“Nothing that fun. I couldn’t sleep, so I came to do some work.”
“You were never one to rely on hope to win,” she says, surprising me. I didn’t know she paid attention outside of our earlier fights and acquaintanceship.
“Neither are you,” I reply. While she wasn’t here in the middle of the night, she’s been working hard too. She’s always been a strong competitor, constantly refining her bots and practicing driving them.
“Any way it goes, I get paid.” She shrugs. “Unless we get sent home for this weapon issue, I guess. Being on a heavyweight team seemed fun to try at least once, and $10,000 seemed worth it.” She takes a sip of her coffee, thinking. “I like doing a good job. You care about winning.”
I like to do both, but that’s not why I’m here. I rub my tired eyes. “I need the money,” I admit.
“Even if you didn’t, you’d never half-ass it. You don’t leave things to chance,” she says. “You’re more than good enough to be here.”
I take a too-large gulp of coffee to hide the welling of my eyes and tell myself it’s the lack of sleep making me emotional.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” I smile at her, and she smiles back.
Even if this sport has never loved me the way I love it, and even if I’m only here for the paycheck, I worked hard to earn my place here.
Knowing someone else sees it helps remove some of the fear that I’ve been lying to myself about deserving my chance in the arena.
“Now, let’s kick some bot, yeah?”
I laugh. “Hell yeah!”
As we set off to work on the rest of our checklist and prepare the bot for our new weapons test tomorrow, I glance around the room.
So many good teams, so many excellent drivers and bots.
So many people I admire and respect. So many people to beat.
I’m not sure if I’m good enough to be here, but Fatimah’s right.
I’m not leaving it to hope or chance. The more I win, the less I have to worry about.
The mood in the Builder Bay is more jovial today.
While there were excited greetings during the three days of prep, the frantic nature had pulled most people—especially us—into focused isolation.
With the fights beginning and everyone getting into a routine, there are better vibes flowing through the space.
As the second cohort of teams prepares for their shot in the arena with anxious joy, the first dives into repairs and preparations for the next round.
Camera operators and hosts flutter around the space getting footage for the televised events that air with a few days’ delay.
Throughout the day, other teams stop by to say hi.
Chris’s best friend is on Team Hot to Bot and stops by with some homemade seven layer bars for us.
The Ginger Snapped girls come to ask Fatimah for eyeliner and drive motor tips.
The driver from the Non-Binary Berserker team asks me about my hair dye brand and the housing material on my beetleweight.
“Mari?” a tentative voice asks as I’m taking a break. I turn to find a short woman with a long, glossy black ponytail and glowing brown skin smiling at me.
“Yeah, hi!” I say, reaching out to shake her hand.
“I’m Soledad,” she says. Her grip is steady and comforting. “You’re a community college teacher, right?”
I never wanted to teach, really. After several failed attempts to get into non-teaching jobs at one of the local universities and more than a few engineering firms, I took on my technical writing job.
When that didn’t pay the bills as much as I’d hoped, my graduate advisor, with whom I’d kept in touch, recommended me for a position at a local community college.
I don’t love it, but I don’t hate it, and it pays the bills.
“Yeah, I teach night classes as my second job.”
She gives me a knowing smile. “I wanted to say hi. I’m from the Calysto’s Cove College team.
I’m a professor there. Most of the other college teams here are big-name four-year schools, so I like to say hi when someone different competes.
” She looks conspiratorial. “I use your paper on gyroscopic inventory stabilization in earth reentry vehicles in my aerospace engineering class.”
The recognition snaps into place. Calysto’s Revenge has gone to the World Championships for several years in a row. Even if they haven’t won, they’re a powerful team. And her recognition of my work? “Oh my gosh, it’s so great to meet you. My paper? Really? Wow.” I stumble over the words.
Nothing like this has ever happened to me.
People have said they liked my robots before, which is really fucking cool.
No one has ever mentioned my thesis paper, though.
I was, and still am, so proud of it. A chance to put all of my robotics and engineering skills into practical applications. I’m stunned.
Soledad laughs, warm and sweet. “It’s incredible work. I was excited to hear your name around the Bay. That was a tough first fight, though.” She winces like she got lemon juice in a paper cut.
I match her expression. “Yeah, well. Can’t win ‘em all.” I try to laugh it off.
“Several of the teams are going out tomorrow to this barcade to celebrate fighting the first round.” She examines my quizzical expression. “It’s an arcade that also serves alcohol.”
“Oh, neat. I love arcades.”
She grins at me. “Team Zeta should come. It’ll be fun. I’ll text you the details.” We exchange numbers, and she waves goodbye as she heads back to her station for final preparations.
“Good luck on your fight, Soledad,” I call after her.
“Did I hear something about an arcade?” Chris asks excitedly.
“Yep. If we pass this new weapons test, we’re going to celebrate.”