Saga OC Dueling Challenge inspired Pod Racing short

I wrote this story to vent some angry feelings after some major drama went down tonight in my local rallying scene. Since I have sponsors to represent, it would be rather improper to jump in a melee over on that message board, so I thought I would costructively... channel my emotions here. So that's my rant disclaimer. And it did fit nicely into the most recent OC Dueling Circle challenge. Enjoy!

****************************

Race Day

"You can't do this! I won this race fair and square! I had a two minute lead! I, I-" The Twi'Lek girl was screaming now, her sand colored skin flushed with anger, her lekku flapping heavily against her back. She pounded her fist against a service vehicle.

"The sanctioning body of the Galactic Pod Racing Association has ruled that your win is invalid. You will be scored as a DNF, did not finish."

The older human looked at her with a contemptous sneer. He turned around and headed towards the air-conditioned scoring tent. The girl heard him say that women were never meant to sit in the cockpit. She stood and her fists fell open. Her whole body was clamy and her stomach was falling into a pit deeper than the Faous Gorge that she had expertly raced through.

Not a second thought about racing had passed through her mind until she turned around and saw a flury of droids and GPRA scruitneers disassembling her pod. Her eyes bulged and she ran towards her beloved machine, scratched and gouged by its previous owners, lovingly restored by her and her master's other slave, an ex-mechanic named Ryboth.

"Stop it!" She screamed in vain. "What are you looking for? My pod is perfectly legal! You yourselves approved it to race!"

She tried to throw her body over the pod to protect the one thing that she owend, the one piece of machinery she loved like the parents and siblings she never had; but the scruitneers pushed her back and she screamed in frustration. Hot tears finally came when she saw a droid carelessly crush her pod's upper left body panel and scratch away large white letters that she had so proudly painted by hand, letters that spelled out her name Galati Amadosa.

They were gone now. She looked up at the score board hovering above the massive stadium and S. Winters now held the top spot. It was he who was now spraying fine Correllian champagne. It was his shallow victory. She saw him raise his trophy on the giant viewscreen.

After all it was just an empty cup, Ryboth had told her. Nothing of value. But it's not as if she hadn't practiced or had made a mistake, a driver's error, going too deep into the Cut or barking too late. Her run had been flawless and she had an entire stadium to attest to the fact.

And now her verdict was being read over the loudspeaker, "Amadosa has been officially disqualified from the race," the words burned her ears like nebula gasses and she fell back against a service barge, "for running an illegal induction system and no restrictor plate."

How could they? How could they? Her pod was so old it didn't use forced induction. I didn't have a dedicated induction system and therefore would not need a restrictor plate. But it was no use arguing. Her pod lie in pieces and she doubted she could repair it and get back home, its shiny chrome hull peeled open like a body in an autopsy.

And it was never about the cup. It was all about freedom. 5,000 credits to freedom, enough money to buy herself out of slavery and avoid the fate of her 'slave race.' When Ryboth spoke about the plan it made so much sense. He had the machine and she had the guts. He said she was a natural, never lifting off the power as she piloted the lawn maintainence repulsorlift, always being able to feel what whatever machine she was driving was telling her and reacting accordingly. He had been a top mechanic, he had seen the best pod racers. He told her she could use her talents to find a way out and for years she had thought of nothing else. For years she had trained and for years she had hoped.

What good was it now? Her master would be home in hours, she had to get the

 

Brilliant rant fic. Wonderfully written. You really captured the frustration and injustice of the whole situation - for the SW version and the real life one.

At least she still had her helmet.

That was totally not fair.

Are you by any chance the woman this rant is based on?

 

yeah... the whole situation began with my getting thrown out after i won the race.... then almost two years later this group of good 'ol boys are still giving me a hard time. now with my speed factor which ranks how fast you are. they won't make it what it should be and so i always start with the beginner drivers. now i have a seriously fast car and its the same crap. i've sent emails, calls... i give up! just look at my stage times!
luckily, i do have some support from the media guy so you can watch anakin kick butt on the ramada express rally on oln on june 24. : )

it's just really funny how they're so ready to use me to promote rallying, but the moment i start to actually get good... it's another story.

this is totally ot, but i have a pretty big suspension sponsor and i try to be as professional as possible so i never get into fights on the rally boards.