“Okay, let’s fucking go,” Asa crowed as he immediately launched himself into the black. His digital interface—which warned when he was too close to another racer or the edge of the ring—had the number 1 on its screen to signify the first lap out of three.

  Asa secured a position on the outside rim of the race, positioning himself behind YB to avoid being taken out by him early in the race. The race lanes and lap markers were marked by neon purple lights projected from the drone that hovered in the center of the infield ring. Rose was level with YB but had put several pods in between them, probably for buffer. Asa watched YB ram into another pod from above without hesitation, which caused the pod to skid down into the darkness. If the pod had been pierced and the person inside the pod wasn’t wearing a helmet, they were totally fucked.

  Nothing was illegal in a pod race except for using weapons, which was what made it so dangerous.

  But pod racing was the only time when Asa was free of the constant grind, of trying to claw his way to the same level as everyone else while pretending that it didn’t cost him at all. The Station relentlessly orbited the Crystallum Lux with no deviation, the Station’s path regulated and controlled by the Eternal Crystal Imperium. The House placed a premium price on appearance: satisfaction without satiation, the artificial erasure of pain. But in the ring, no one cared about control—they only cared if you won.

  Asa passed the first lap, his digital interface pinging a little victory sound. The number 1 on his screen transformed to number 2. Asa punched in the code of the first phase of the new program he had installed to narrow the body of the pod even further so he would go even faster. Asa grinned like a maniac as he zoomed past Rose, the pod shaking around him because of the intense speed pressure. Now Rose was behind him, and Asa felt the kind of satisfaction that couldn’t be bought—electricity sparking through his nerve-endings, a joy as expansive as the blackness surrounding him.

  PQ-9 complained at the high speeds with high-pitched beeping. “I told you, you didn’t have to come,” Asa reminded PQ-9.

  He edged back from YB’s pod as YB pitilessly skewered the pod—number 37—in front of Asa with a retractable spike, causing the pod to spin helplessly outside the bounds of the ring. The digital representation of pod-racer number 37 disappeared from Asa’s screen as the competitor was disqualified from the race. Asa reminded himself that he only had to qualify in the top ten, but it was really hard to resist trying to beat this guy when he just kept fucking with other people for no reason other than he could. Asa tightened his arc even further, getting as close as he could to the inner rim of the ring so no one could pass him on the right—but then Rose suddenly clipped him on his right side before Asa could fully get into position.

  “What the fuck,” Asa hissed, as his pod careened to the left and toward the outer rim of the race, almost colliding into someone else. His digital interface pinged another hollow little victory sound as he spun across the starting line: lap 3, the final lap.

  PQ-9 beeped worriedly from where he was strapped into the dashboard.

  Where the hell had Rose come from? Asa could have sworn he was far enough behind Asa that Rose couldn’t catch up that quickly. Maybe Rose was still on his second lap—but when Asa checked his digital interface, Rose was also on the third lap. Asa slammed his gloved hand on the console in frustration and then immediately smashed the button to initiate the second transformation in the new programming. The shape of his pod streamlined further, shortening the wingspan of his craft, intensifying his speed. PQ-9 started chattering furiously in a scolding tone.

  “Relax, it’s going to be fine,” Asa said, his eyes glued to Rose’s pod. The only downside was that Asa would have less control over steering the pod in tight spots, but Asa wasn’t concerned about that at this point in the race.

  Asa ducked underneath Rose’s pod into the narrow space between Rose and another racer, sliding through that gap sideways. Then he rolled over to cut in front of Rose, flipping into the position he had originally been aiming for.

  Asa grinned smugly because now Rose was once again in his rear-view mirror. The digital interface finally notated Asa’s position as first place. “Take that!” he said, pounding the dashboard with his gloved fist. Asa knew exactly what Rose looked like when he was mad: the tight jaw and green-eyed glare that made people compare him to the prickly flower that matched his nickname. Rose always laser focused on whoever angered him with his full attention. Asa zoomed even further ahead because he was halfway through the final lap, and it was time to fucking win.

  Rose surged upward on Asa’s left to clip his wing with single-minded precision, but Asa had been expecting swift retaliation—he flipped over Rose’s pod while PQ-9 complained loudly about turbulence. “Fuck,” Asa gasped, when he realized he hadn’t accounted for the pod racer that was on the other side. Asa crashed into them, unable to turn quickly because of the force and velocity of his own speed.

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  “Dammit,” Asa groaned, as PQ-9 made angry chittering sounds, because that had probably dented the hell out of his pod. Thank the stars, there was no lit-up red in his engine visuals. Asa sucked in a breath and righted the pod, dizzy, his stomach rolling. The digital interface showed that Rose was way ahead of him now, and that Asa was—no longer in the top ten.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Asa muttered under his breath as he punched frantically through his screen for options. The third transformation of his new programming wasn’t finalized or approved by his mechanic, and it drained the battery like a motherfucker. He would only have thirty seconds once the program started before his pod stopped dead in space.

  Asa’s heart raced in his chest, making him feel like he was going to throw up. The program wasn’t ready, he hadn’t planned on using it. But he couldn’t be eliminated from this race, he just couldn’t, he needed to win the money for his mother. Asa typed the commands to initiate the program into his interface while PQ-9’s tones became louder and more offensive—

  —and then Asa slammed the last button, his hands sweating inside his gloves.

  Asa’s pod transformed into its final evolution.

  Asa raced full-speed ahead, breathless with adrenaline, riding tightly to the rim of the inner ring of the race. He white-knuckled the controls, accelerating around the neon purple track so fast that the heaving press of gravity pinned him to his seat. Asa couldn’t even move his arms due to the compressing weight of his own speed, his organs squeezing under the pressure. Asa’s lips opened in a snarl, his gaze unmoving from the digital interface, as he clawed his way back into the top ten racers. Rose flew in third place, notated by a number on the digital screen, but YB was beelining for Rose with his pod’s sharp wing at a twenty-two degree angle.

  YB planned to use his signature slicing move to rend the wing of Rose’s pod.

  Rose had positioned himself in the innermost curve of the ring, unable to maneuver any further inside the ring. It would take massive momentum to escape forward into the outer part of the ring. Asa could see the finish line ahead. His timer read five seconds before his pod was completely drained of energy.

  “Voice command, pull lever for upper limit speed,” Asa ordered because he was fucking insane. He couldn’t even breathe, his chest pressing inward even as he gained the maximum speed and time on Rose that Asa’s own body could withstand—

  —and then Asa collided into YB’s wing, sending YB skittering toward the outer part of the ring. Asa’s pod simultaneously struck Rose’s pod wing as he passed, which evened Asa’s trajectory but caused Rose’s pod to roll without control. PQ-9 made a disappointed sound.

  “What?” Asa said defensively. “I helped him!”

  Asa only had a single moment to gloat about the incoming finish line before Rose fucking clipped him in the wing again. Asa spun sideways as Rose crossed the finish line ahead of him. Asa cursed so loudly and so badly that PQ-9 made a prim noise in binary, as if he was clutching his pearls.

  “Shut up, I’ve heard you say worse,” Asa said sulkily.

  The digital interfaced pinged a final victory sound as Asa passed the finish line in fifth place.

  He landed his pod in Hangar 3 while he listened to the referee announce the winner: YB. Somehow that cheater had recovered his position. Asa wrenched off his helmet and then furiously pressed the button to open the door of his pod. Sweat poured down his back as he flung himself out of his pod where he had parked it in the rear of the hangar. Purple neon lights lit up the hangar, drowning out the starlight that filtered through the clear windows. Other racers exited their pods to watch as the referee flung up the winner’s arm as if it was the end of a live wrestling match.

  Since Rose had finished second, his fans were already swarming him. Asa marched over to Rose, his helmet under his arm while PQ-9 followed him beeping worriedly.

  “You targeted me!” Asa said, furious.

  Rose raised an eyebrow. “So?” he said.

  Asa gaped. He wasn’t even bothering to deny it. “But you–we know each other!” Asa said. “We—” it was on the tip of his tongue to say that they were friends, and Rose still looked at him with that raised eyebrow, as if he knew what Asa wasn’t going to say. “Why didn’t you go after YB,” Asa sputtered, “he actually deserved it!”

  Rose shrugged. “You’re in the top ten, aren’t you?” he said. “Stop complaining.”

  “But I just don’t understand why you felt the need to do that!” Asa said, throwing up his hands. “To me specifically, especially when I help you all the time with demon contracts even though I think it’s fucking dumb that you—”

  “Shut up, Asa,” Rose barked. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “If I don’t know what I’m talking about, why do you come to me for help?” Asa goaded. “Like, then don’t ask me—”

  Rose grabbed Asa by the collar and hissed, “Stop talking about this in public! There are cameras.”

  Asa grinned, even though Rose’s tight hold was cutting off his air a little, because Rose was finally looking him directly in the eye. “You think you fucking own the downtown?” Asa said in as provoking a tone as possible. “You think you’re so cool because Boss keeps giving you territory? What do you think your fans would say if they knew it was because you were bargaining with demons for—“

  “You think I give a shit what they think?” Rose said, incredulous, shaking him a little. Rose had spent a lot of time beating people up on Boss’ command, so he was pretty strong. Asa, on the other hand, spent a lot of time ruining his eyesight by working on tech commissions late at night. “If you think that’s my priority, then you don’t know me at all.”

  “Whose fault is that,” Asa said bitterly. “You hardly ever talk to me unless you need something.”

  Rose let go of him so suddenly that Asa stumbled. Rose scoffed. “Whatever,” he said, starting to turn away. “Don’t be a sore loser.”

  Asa grabbed Rose by the shoulder to turn him around. “Don’t—” Asa started to say, and then he froze. Everyone froze. The Station’s klaxon alarm blared with loud insistence, drowning out all other sounds. Red lights flashed ominously, reflecting across the floor and windows of the hangar.

  A new time-line had been discarded by the Eternal Crystal Imperium, carrying an infestation of demons with it.