Both ships kicked forward as their engines ignited and they accelerated hard. As soon as they passed the start line, they dived low to skim the Juggernaut's surface as close as they dared.

The winner of this race would be the first one to complete a loop going under the city. Speed and nerves were needed to win.

The safer path was to fly wide of the station, but that extra distance would cost a pilot valuable seconds. Flying closer to the surface would shorten the route but the risk of a crash was that much greater. The smaller the loop, the shorter the distance. Getting the balance right was key, but it was a dangerous challenge. A perfect test of speed and skill.

At least it's not a core run, Malachi thought. That takes a special kind of crazy.

Core runs were theoretical races that took ships inside the Juggernaut, through the very heart of the city from one end to the other. They were rumoured to be possible, but no one Malachi knew had ever even attempted one, let alone completed one.

The Juggernaut was a haphazard construction of a thousand different ships, so it made sense there would be voids and openings across the surface. Maybe somewhere there was a hidden entrance to the maze of tunnels within, but as far as Malachi could tell, those voids were simply convenient holes in which to plug the next derelict vessel.

Some would-be adventurers had explored as far as they dared, but their stories all ended the same way. Sooner or later—usually sooner—they found a wall of metal barring their way, or the openings they did find were simply too small to allow their ships to pass.

Other obstacles were far more deadly. The wrong combination of venting gas or vapour could be ignited by a thruster's burn, and radiation leaks and the risk of structural collapse were also dangers waiting in the dark.

Either way, it wasn't worth the risk.

Malachi had also noticed how the stories he heard had a tendency to become more exciting with each retelling.

If a route through the city was found it would be an incredible race, perfect for a thrill seeker like Ellie, but far too risky for Malachi.

You lose one hundred per cent of the races you don't survive, he told her once. Ellie usually ignored his advice, but she had listened to that wise nugget.

Ellie might be dangerous when she was in her little ship, he thought, but she wasn't stupid.

The two pilots were quickly out of sight of the Mandalay's bridge, so the spectators switched their attention to the video feeds on screens and personal data pads.

Ellie was already in the lead, but it was slight. She was only nudging ahead of her opponent by a half-length.

Both ships were already dangerously close to the surface. They crept lower still. With only two metres to spare they skimmed the top of a communications hub, many of which littered the surface of the city. More radio towers, satellite dishes and countless other protrusions threatened to reach up and snatch the ships from their course as they streaked overhead.

They reached the first edge of the city and dived over. Santini turned faster and made up the ground he had lost on the straight. Ellie growled her annoyance into Malachi's ear as he looked on, helpless, and as usual, terrified.

The crowd cheered again at Santini's daring manoeuvre, lapping up the drama. It seemed to Malachi that the crowd had split their affection right down the middle.

Wagers were placed, deals were struck, and Malachi dug his fingernails into his right palm while the other hand gripped the data pad even more tightly.

Ellie zipped around the lower edge of the city and she and Santini twisted a half-turn to reorient themselves as she swooped under the city rim.

Now the Juggernaut was above them, and the emptiness of space below.

Santini pulled further ahead. Although Ellie's lighter ship had the greater acceleration, his tighter, smaller turn had given him the edge on that bend, and he had the greater top speed, so the straight run to the far edge of the underside of the city meant Ellie's chances of catching him were small.

But Santini wasn't leaving this race to chance. He suddenly swung his ship across Ellie's line, forcing her away from her planned route. Ellie saw him coming in time and dived to avoid a collision, but the move forced her away from the city's surface and into the safety of open space.

Malachi tapped the comm link, toggling the option to leave the channel open.

"What was that?! Are you okay?"

"Yes," said Ellie through clenched teeth. What Santini had done wasn't cheating. There were no rules out here.

Her opponent wasted no time in capitalising on Ellie's misfortune. While she powered up through the curve to get back on her racing line, Santini had already increased the distance between them and was now quickly approaching the second turn.

"How are you—" Malachi began.

"I've got it," said Ellie.

"But what are you—"

Ellie cut Malachi off through clenched teeth.

"I've got it, Mal!"

Malachi flicked through every camera view available on his data pad. His mind formulated and discarded a dozen options for Ellie, but there was nothing he could do.

Now comfortably in the lead, Santini was already arcing through the third turn; a safe, gentle curve around and up the underside of the Juggernaut above a forest of communication pylons. He knew there was no safe shorter route.

What Malachi didn't know was how flexible Ellie's definition of safe could be when victory was on the line.

He had a sickening feeling that he knew what Ellie was about to do.

Edging the rim of the city was a crash zone. Usually, old spaceships were layered on to the city, or used to fill gaps. At crash zones, ships had simply been rammed bow-first into the city, leaving sterns, their hulls and engines sticking out from the surface. Cross bracing among the hulls provided additional strength and reduced the risk of collapse.

One day they would be salvaged, deconstructed and scattered around the Juggernaut, but for now they were clawed metal hazards reaching for the stars.

Flying through the crash zone on a level surface would be like a fly trying to thread its way between a dozen webs. Flying through one during a turn meant the pilot would be unable to see what was coming until it was too late. The horizon would be too short. It would have the advantage of drastically reducing the distance around the edge of the city, but it was the insane choice.

Naturally, it was the choice Ellie made.

"Ellie, no!" warned Malachi.

"Mal, you're distracting me. Hush."

"Good! Stop!"

"Can't."

"Can't?

"Won't."

"Ellie!"

"I'm concentrating!"

Santini began the long, safe route over the zone in a smooth curve designed to take him safely around the dangerous turn and ease him to the upper surface of the city and the home straight.

Ellie looked up at the gun metal grey towers overhead, spun her ship one hundred eighty degrees so they were below her, and dived in

A murmur rippled through the crowd surrounding Malachi.

Oh no, thought Malachi. Not again.

Ellie inched her ship closer to the unyielding wall of the city and urged it on with whispered pleading.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on."

Santini had already reached the top of his climb and was levelling out for the final dash to the finish line.

The crash zone sprawled across the surface of the hull before her, filling her horizon with giant pillars of steel.

The crowd was chanting now, a chorus growing in volume.

"Closer. Closer. Closer. Closer."

Malachi was afraid to watch and afraid to look away. He always hated this part.

Ellie dived into the crash zone. She twisted and turned her ship as it raced between the obstacles which towered above her. The race course was gone. The plan was gone. Ellie could only concern herself with the next quarter-second, and then the quarter-second after that.

She flew on instinct and reflexes alone. Home-made spaceships didn't have luxuries like scanners and automatic guidance, and the proximity alarms which sounded were of little help at this speed and this distance.

It was only Ellie, her engine, and her ability to fly.

She risked a glance up. Santini flew above the zone, high and safe. But she was making up ground.

Ellie jinked and dodged her ship through the rest of the zone. The centrifugal force generated by the turn threatened to tear Ellie from her seat. Her body strained against the buckles that held her tight.

Then she was clear.