“You've arrived on time for once,” Izzy’s Mother raised an eyebrow as Izzy arrived at the table. “I’m impressed.”

  Izzy didn’t say anything, restraining herself from starting an argument over her Mother’s passive-aggressive tendencies. The restaurant she’d arrived at, although rather bougie, was one of her favourites. Not because of the overly pretentious appearance of its design or guests but because the chef was genuinely one of the best in the galaxy- at least, in her opinion.

  “It’s a good thing we hired a new head secretary then,” Her Father chimed in, “Pearl seems to be keeping you in line.”

  Izzy bit her tongue, literally, and raised her hand to grab the waiter's attention before she tapped her wine glass.

  “Would you like a red or a white, Ma’am?” The waiter asked.

  “White, something sweet.”

  The waiter nodded elegantly before walking away with his arm tucked closely to his chest.

  “So, why am I here?” Izzy asked.

  “The CTO of Kythera wanted to have a word with us.”

  “Something about the AG steering your Mother developed.” Her Father added.

  “He requested that you join us. He’s a big fan.”

  Izzy’s lip twitched; she couldn’t help but feel like she was being paraded like a show dog, only because it benefited her parents’ real interests– corporate and political affiliations. She’d always have to remind herself that she was lucky to be a drop racer, and these moments were a small price to pay for her dreams to come true. But the counterargument about whose dreams drop racing was always rebutted in an instant.

  She wanted to be a pilot for The Atlas when she was thirteen, but her parents found it unnecessary to have a second child join the federation. This was never her dream; the main reason she wanted to be a pilot in the first place was to explore the galaxy. Now all she does is view it from the window of her apartment in the Drop Racing Centre. The only city she’s actually walked in was the one that orbited her homeworld, Cath.

  “Just smile and respond when he addresses you,” Her Mother continued as Izzy realised her Mother hadn’t even given her a moment of eye contact since arriving. “No need to run that mouth of yours.”

  “Is there a reason the third gen steering was flagged by the DRF, love?”

  “It seems there was an issue with the proportions of the unit, but I’ve asked them to clarify.”

  Her Mother handled the engineering, as a distinguished alumnus of Cath Central University, CCU. She had one of the most prolific careers in the sector. Her Father, on the other hand, was most notable for being a founding member of ATUM, a research company that specialised in atomic technologies. Although he understood the sciences, he was always an entrepreneurial type, more akin to logistics and management.

  When Izzy told them she wanted to be a pilot, they saw an opportunity to start a family business around it. It gave her Mother the freedom to work on a technology that she had always thought would be valuable, and it gave her Father the freedom to leverage his connections and knowledge for himself. Izzy thought it sounded great because, at the time, she believed her parents had her best interests at heart. But it took a while for her to find out who they really were and what they aspired to. Once she did, she never saw them the same way.

  “Your wine, Ma’am,” The waiter returned with a bottle in hand as he showed her the label.

  “That’s great, thanks.” The waiter filled her glass before stepping away, but Izzy tapped his arm. “You can leave the bottle.” She smiled.

  The waiter nodded and brought over a steel bucket that he left beside her.

  She’d have been content as a cargo pilot, hauling whatever nonsense she could as long as it gave her soul the mileage it desired, but again, she knew she ought to be grateful for the life she had. No point whining about it now, she thought as she took a swig of her wine.

  “The infamous Montoya family.” A figure loomed over her, catching her off guard.

  “Mr Pletts,” Her Mother and Father said in unison as they rose to their feet.

  “And if it isn’t the greatest pilot in the galaxy,” He grinned as Izzy rose to her feet to greet him. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” He proceeded to hug her, without any warning or even a care for her approval.

  “Thank you for joining us,” Her Mother said.

  “Of course,” Mr Pletts responded as he slowly released his rather lengthy grasp. “It is an honour to meet with you all, I’ve heard so much about the relationship between the company and Montoya Racing.”

  “It’s been quite a fruitful venture,” Her Father added.

  “Yes, I see it’s given Izzy the resources to rise further each year. I must say, I’m a huge fan– My daughter wants to be just like you one day. She’s a junior pilot at the Cath Centre. Not quite ready for a Drop yet, but hopefully she qualifies for division four next year.”

  Izzy smiled, still discomforted by his scent from the hug, but she managed to reframe her thinking to the conversation. Masking her discomfort, “What’s her name?”

  “Sara,” He said before laughing, “Her favourite thing to watch is your press conferences, they just get her riled up.”

  “Well, I’d love to meet her someday. I’m sure she’ll be a great pilot if she sticks with it.”

  “That would be splendid!” Mr Pletts snapped his fingers with a rather charming grin on his face, “I will hold you to that.”

  Izzy nodded, without saying another word. Meeting fans wasn’t a big deal to her, in fact, it was one of the more calming experiences she’d have, often putting things in perspective for her. She also knew that the racing industry relied on many things for a racer to make it. Sure, one of those was talent, but more importantly, a racer needed funding to access the training and vehicles that developed those talents in the first place.

  Many of the racers in the league came from money, including Izzy. The few who didn’t often had to prove themselves for a spot, and fight to keep it. Sara would likely make it to the league by that principle alone. It wasn’t exactly fair, but just how it worked in a sport that depended so heavily on financing in the first place.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking a rather vague question, but how do you do it?” He asked.

  Izzy stammered briefly, a little confused by the question. “Do what?”

  “Be the best,” He took a swig of the wine that had been poured for him on arrival. “And stay the best, after all these years.”

  She took a moment to think of her response. She’d been asked similar questions before, but her answer always depended on what the asker likely wanted to hear. The truth of the matter was that her success was a series of events, individuals and opportunities that placed her here. Hard work was the easiest part.

  If someone wanted spectacle, she’d tell them that she was born this way, and a smile would always peel on their face as she lived up to their expectations. If someone sought advice, she’d tell them that it was hard work and a hustle because it gave them the belief that they could achieve it too. But really, she knew that it was a series of causalities that put her in a position to become the greatest in the first place.

  “Ask my parents,” She responded with a smile, “I was born this way.”

  “Haaa!” He clapped his hands together as a large smile spread across his cheeks, “Izzy Montoya! You really live up to your image, don't you?”

  “Ever since she was a child, she was always more confident than the other kids,” Her Dad chimed in.

  “I guess we did something right when we raised her.”

  I got my confidence from Aahriya. She masked her annoyance by taking a sip of wine.

  Her older sister, Aahriya, was the real source of Izzy’s confidence. She always told Izzy that she’d be the greatest pilot in the galaxy, and she was the only person who truly believed in her. Mom and Dad only believed in Izzy’s dreams when they saw that it could benefit them; otherwise, they’d have never allowed it.

  “Yes, it seems you did excellently,” Mr Pletts complimented them. “So, tell me about this Anti-gravity steering you have developed for Izzy’s drop ship. It seems like quite the revolutionary technology.”

  “Yes, well, Anti-gravity engines aren’t allowed according to the DRF rules, but a few years back, we decided that it may be allowed in the steering capabilities of the ship and began our research in developing a technology that would allow the vehicle to make high precision adjustments during the rather uncontrolled incident of a drop.” Mother explained.

  “Right,” Mr Pletts nodded, “This is because thrusters aren’t allowed during the drop segment of a race, correct?”

  “Correct. Thrusters and arcjets may only be engaged five hundred metres above the race track, which is often at sea level, and therefore may not be used for manoeuvring mid-air.”

  “Why exactly did they make this rule? It seems like a rather strange decision?”

  “To my knowledge, the DRF’s priority is entertainment. Their data suggests that the drop is the most thrilling portion of the race, and the fan engagement is highest when there is a sense of peril for the racers.”

  “More specifically, in the form of the high G-forces that various atmospheres provide.” Her Father added.

  “I see, and so the AG steering allows the vehicle to move and turn without a shift in G-force?”

  “Precisely,” Mother confirmed, “In the past, many teams would use arcjets and reverse thrusters to reduce drag for the racers, prioritising the track segment of the race, but this was much less exciting.”

  “So now all of the other teams have AG steering to match Team Montoya’s competitive advantage?”

  “Well, they try to. But our technology is still significantly further ahead in precision and overall functionality.”

  Mr Pletts nodded as he put his wine glass down, “I see why the company was so aggressive in their investment. I’d imagine this research is being shared with Kythera’s teams?”

  “More than just that, they’ve helped us improve the technology by orders of magnitude! It’s been a very fruitful relationship.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Mr Pletts smiled, “I took a look at the data regarding the AG steering that you’d developed and had a proposal come to mind that I think you may like.”

  “We’re all ears,” Father responded.

  “The company has needed further deep research in technologies that we believe are industry dominant, thus we’ve been on quite the acquisition spree as of late, trying to get a ‘chokehold on the market’ as our CEO enjoys saying. We believe it could be of great value to have Montoya Racing as a permanent subsidiary of Kythera. The AG Steering that you’ve developed would be applied to all of our current land, air and specialised vehicles, and we’d also place your talented scientists amongst the key researchers of our firm, providing them with Kythera data and resources to further improve their technology.”

  “Oh my,” Izzy’s Mother sat back in her chair, looking over to Father.

  Father remained silent, and the two of them held a prolonged gaze at one another, as if they were communicating without words– which was likely to be the case. They often shared transmissions in private, whilst amongst others. Izzy often got her share of frustrations being left out of the loop.

  “No need to give me an answer now, there’s a much more extensive offering on the table, but that is where my interests lie. I’ll have one of my assistants draft a proposal for you to look over, but understand that there is no pressure. If you choose not to do so, we will continue the sponsorship as is and potentially negotiate a contract and acquisition of the steering technology alone.”

  “What’s the buyout?” Izzy asked, curious, but more interested in seeing her parents' reactions to the number.

  “There’s that Montoya confidence,” Mr Pletts grinned, “Something to the tune of three hundred billion units.”

  Izzy nearly coughed up her wine at the number– the company was only valued at twenty billion units after she won the last championship. She turned to her parents, who’d begun passing each other another glance, but were much more uncertain. They were definitely passing a chain among themselves.

  “Well, such an offer is hard to say no to,” Mother nervously responded. “Do you mind me asking why that amount?”

  “The application job would be of an immensely high value; the contract alone would likely value your company at one hundred billion units, but it's the application and acquisition of your technology that we believe will increase Kythera’s productivity by about three percent. The offering is what I see as fair compensation.”

  That amount of money was absurd and would immediately put her parents in the top zero point zero zero one percent of the entire galaxy. They’d have the resources to pursue whatever they dreamed, political or corporate. The thought of such wealth created a pit of despair in Izzy’s stomach. Her family was already consumed by greed, but accepting this would go against every moral fibre in her body.

  “Again, there is more to the offering, but it's not something I’d expect you to respond to now.” Mr Pletts slowly stood up and downed the last bits of his wine. “We’d love to have you as a part of the company, officially.” He grinned as Izzy and her parents stood up as well.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I must be heading to another meeting.” He straightened out his suit and then extended a hand to Izzy. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms Montoya. And good luck with your race this weekend.”

  “Thank you,” She responded, still a little flustered.

  “And thank both of you for graciously hosting me here. I do wish I could stay for dinner, but business never seems to end these days.”

  “Not a problem at all,” Mother responded as she shook his hand.

  “Thank you so much for coming. Your offer will be a major topic of discussion in the household.” Father added.

  “I look forward to your response. Have a great evening.” Mr Pletts took off, a sudden flurry of bodyguards and two assistants sitting a few tables away accompanied him as he made his exit.

  Three hundred billion units, Izzy still couldn’t quite comprehend the number. She looked at her parents, who had their eyes locked again, wondering what they were thinking or what they were saying that they felt Izzy couldn’t hear. But the subtle smiles on their faces told her everything she needed to know. They’d accept that deal in a heartbeat and slave away under Kythera for a few years in exchange for the power it’d give them.

  “If you accept that deal, you’ll become everything that’s wrong with this galaxy,” Izzy said, snatching their attention. “I really do wish I could stay for dinner, but I suddenly feel sick to my stomach.” Izzy took down her drink with frustration, nearly slamming the glass on the table before storming away.