Chapter 21
Clarke feels like a traitor to all of motorsport for thinking it, but she doesn’t really like Monza.
The course is…fine. It’s on-planet, obviously, so it’s already not going to be one of Clarke’s favorites, and it’s not even built through a city or over water, which are in Clarke’s opinion the main draws to zero-grav racing on-planet.
It’s a purpose-built stadium. It’s basically just a condensed version of an off-planet track, but without the fun of changing variables.
You’d think that this makes Monza exciting. You’d be wrong. Monza’s just exhausting. You come out of Monza needing a toilet, a massage to deal with the cramping in your lower back from being in your ship that long, and twenty hours of sleep.
That’s what Clarke feels like she already needs, and they haven’t even flown the actual Grand Prix yet.
It’s Saturday, early evening. She got eliminated in Q2, and will start P12 tomorrow. It is what it is. It’s Monza, and Clarke hates her ship. P12’s honestly better than she was expecting.
Clarke’s in a hovercar with her family, on their way to her Elemental-hosted birthday dinner.
It’s not going to be a fun night. The guest list is Clarke, Imogen, Ihaka, Kuari, Anders, Yves, Raff, and half a dozen Elemental execs that Clarke rarely interacts with.
Also Sara, but she’s working, not eating, because saints forbid Elemental doesn’t milk every event for views.
It’s a bye week, the one weekend a month they don’t race, after this.
Clarke’s going to a nearby Terran beach with her family on Monday, and the plan after that is to return to Luna and work straight through until they leave for the back-to-back Martian races that are coming up next.
But she could take a night off. Pop back down to Earth, where Thierry’s team Enclave is based.
Do something small, just the two of them, or maybe see if some of her lower circuit friends are around.
She’s hoping to waylay Yves tonight when dinner’s over and everyone’s heading back to their hotels.
She’s going to give him a copy of the drafted renewal that Clarke’s been working on with Rhynn in every spare minute of this past week, wherein Clarke asks for what she wants: less team control over what she does during her downtime, a guarantee that she can use a biometrics patch instead of a chip next season, assurance that Clarke will be included in discussions about designs for future ships.
She’s not expecting him to accept it on the spot, but it will start the conversation (or end it, if he flat out tells her that she’s not going to be with Elemental next season, but at least then she’d know).
“You’re quiet.”
Her mom’s gentle observation pulls Clarke out of her thoughts. “Yeah, sorry. It’s been a long few weeks.”
Imogen’s dark blue eyes trace the circles under Clarke’s. “Should we cancel? Go back to the hotel?”
“I don’t think Yves would appreciate that.”
“It’s not Yves’s birthday. Say the word, and we’ll turn this car around.”
Imogen would, too. Clarke’s mom has never been impressed by the power wielded by men like Yves, or blinded by the glamour of celebrity. She meets everything in life with the same level-headed approach and crafts an informed opinion.
It makes Clarke wonder, sometimes, what Imogen saw in Anders twenty-three years ago.
The two of them weren’t together for long, but they were together.
There must’ve been something more to Anders back then.
More substance, more empathy, more character.
Did F0 strip that away from him over the years?
Or was Imogen just young then, and not as discerning as she is today?
“I’m okay,” Clarke says, scooching across the seat a bit so she can lay her head on her mother’s shoulder. “It won’t be that bad. Probably. I’ve got you guys.”
“Always,” Imogen says, and lets the topic drop.
Clarke spends the rest of the ride basking in the presence of her family, soaking it in like she’s one of Julian’s beloved lizards, sunning herself on a rock.
Kuari, who’s only been to Earth twice before this, has his face pressed against the window, watching buildings pass and getting glimpses of distant mountains.
Ihaka, next to Kuari, is spouting random facts about the region of Italy they’re in, sounding like he churned through a couple guidebooks on their flight over from Mars.
Clarke loves them so, so much.
They arrive at the restaurant all too soon. Clarke climbs out first, readying herself to play Perfect Pilot Clarke for the Elemental bigwigs all night, and is therefore completely unprepared to face the two women who are actually waiting on the sidewalk. “Elise? Ndira? What are—how did—”
“Oh, sweetheart,” says Ndira Bennett, one of Connor’s moms, stepping forward and wrapping Clarke in a tight hug. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”
“It was time. It was past time,” adds Elise Bennett, Connor’s other mom, delicately moving a strand of Clarke’s hair out of her face while waiting for her turn for a hug.
Clarke hasn’t seen them since the week after Connor’s funeral. They’ve sent messages, and Clarke’s written back, but—she takes a shuddering breath, hiccuping—
“Nope!” Imogen declares, getting out of the car. “I did not bring the two of you here to make her cry. There’ll be time for that later.”
“I’m not crying!” Clarke says, actively crying. Elise starts blotting her eye makeup. “I just—I was surprised, and I don’t really understand, but—”
“They’re your birthday present!” Kuari chirps, giving Ndira a shy wave. “Mom said you’d like it.”
“Mom was right,” Clarke says, squeezing Imogen’s arm with gratitude she can’t put into words.
They head inside, updates flying fast and thick.
Clarke asks about Connor’s younger sisters, about Ndira’s work, about Elise’s bees.
Ndira and Elise have clearly been following Clarke’s career, but they don’t ask about that as they walk through the restaurant.
They ask instead about Clarke’s happiness, and what she’s been reading, and what the best and worst thing she’s eaten in the past few months has been.
They’re laughing about Clarke’s misadventures with a pastry she had not been expecting to be filled with fermented fish when the door to the private dining room opens and Clarke stumbles to a halt at the sight of the night’s third surprise guest.
Julian.
Everyone starts clapping (Raff unenthusiastically, Clarke can’t help noticing) when their group enters, so Clarke can’t immediately ask what Julian Casperi, star Chronicle pilot, is doing at an Elemental event, but he catches her eye as she’s shaking hands with Elemental’s director of operations and glances meaningfully at Sara.
Duh. There wasn’t a Julian Anders says something about backup plans that makes Elise threaten to stab him with a fork.
Yves tries to calm everyone down, and Imogen reacts as well as she ever does when a man tells her to stop having feelings.
Clarke can’t breathe.
It’s Kuari who notices. He says Clarke’s name, quiet and urgent, and shakes her arm.
Clarke tries to reassure him. She can’t.
The words aren’t just barbed anymore, they’re vined, all clustered together and wrapped tightly around her throat.
She’s panicking, and drowning, and reliving every conversation she had with Connor in the weeks before he died and wondering how she missed this, and—