Chapter 19
Chris dances with excitement. His palpable joy starts the rattling, smoking engine of my heart, filling me with anticipation and warmth. It’s tenuous and vaporous. I can’t tell how much is left in my gas tank, but it’s no longer in cold stasis.
My eyes catch on waves of black hair behind Chris. Jacob’s inescapable gravity pulls my gaze his way, unbidden. A strong hand runs through his hair as he laughs. When he meets mine, I roll my eyes so I can make myself look away.
“I had an idea,” Chris says as Sonny and I reach the table, carrying cups of coffee for the team.
“Let’s hear it,” I say as I hand him his cup. I’m worried it’ll spill with his kinetic energy.
He takes a deep breath. “Okay, so we need to strengthen connection points for reliability, as well as lose some weight on the bot.” We’re all in agreement, even Travis.
“I was thinking we could redesign the materials and redistribute the weight. Also, swap out the wheels from hard plastic to rubber for better grip and weight distribution when turning.”
The ideas from last night blend with Chris’s, taking shape into a stronger alloy. “Rebuilding the gearbox to focus on strength over speed will, paradoxically, make us faster to offset the weight we can’t lose,” I suggest.
“Won’t we lose weapon force if we’re slowing them down?” Sonny asks.
Fatimah shrugs. “Yeah, but the added drive power means Mari will be able to maneuver better. Sometimes avoiding hits is better than landing them. Offense versus defense.”
“Besides, the parts are subpar,” Chris adds. “Updating them would increase the durability and decrease the likelihood we have to do it as often.”
“Rebuild the gearbox?” Travis says, arms crossed and tight-lipped. “And redesign the body?”
“Chris’s body design idea could go well with my idea,” I say, ignoring him.
This is a good idea. I’m not letting it go.
“The new wheels are more vulnerable to shredding. We could do a band of high-impact plastic around them as a shield. And if we remove the undercutter and only run the vertical disk, we can also add a wedge on the front to better lift bots into the weapon. If we can’t hit them as hard, we can hit them better that way.
Also, if we replace the sides with titanium and redistribute that weight to the back of the bot, it should make us more stable to offset the weapon force. ”
“Would the wedge be plastic or metal?” Sonny asks. “AR steel is a good application.”
Fatimah says, “If we’re cutting thinner side panels, we could do the same thickness for the front since we’ll have the wedge there, then do a layer of shock-absorbing plastic over it. We could do the whole bot that way. Depending on our opponent, it might help offset some of the force of the hits.”
“Yes!” Chris and I say at the same time. We turn to each other and high five, laughing. It’s like the spring sun has risen after a long, dark winter.
“How much will it cost?” Travis asks.
“Hopefully, less than new motors,” I shrug. “And doesn’t Joel want to be a champion? This is how we get there.”
He studies me like he can’t decide if I’m annoying or infuriating. “We only have two days.”
I shrug. “Two and a half, and it’s not like we have anything else to do.”
“Besides, don’t you want to be on a winning team?” Chris asks, heartbreakingly earnest.
Yes, I think. I do. The outlandish thought—one I didn’t think I was still capable of—wriggles through my brain. As much as I want the money. Maybe even more. I want to do well. I want to win.
“I gotta call Joel to get this all approved,” Travis mutters before scurrying off.
I pick up the clipboard, flip the checklist page over, and start writing a new list. “Let’s save this bot.”