A-GRL

Can't Win

The doctor's words played on repeat in Nat's mind. She sits there, looking at her hands, thinking about how she might never touch the controls of another A-G ship again.

Acute Stress Disorder, he says it's called, and it can lead to the more serious PTSD.

She can't remember flying her ship into the barriers. There's this gap in her memory of the race. One second she was alert at the ship's controls, the next second her ship was scraping against the barrier and her arms hung uselessly at her sides.

She remembers standing atop her wrecked a-g ship, watching Victor wow the world with wonderful flying.

She watches the replays quietly. The corners before the crash were too easy to put her in a GLoC, yet her ship doesn't even tilt for a corner. She flew the ship straight when she should've turned in for a left-hander.

She watches herself stand from her wrecked ship on the holovision. A strange feeling tightens inside her.

Amazingly, Natasha suffered no injuries. She was cleared from the on-track medical center shortly after the race ended. When she returned to the Marux hangar, Grigoriy had already left the amphiseum. Most of the crew had gone to recover the remains of the ship, which still lay on the track.

Aiko won the race ahead of Walther and one of the backmarkers. Victor finished 4th, which means it's now mathematically impossible for Natasha to win the tournament.

It's been hours since the race's end and Grigoriy hasn't called her out to the celebrations. Natasha's father has also been oddly quiet about the whole thing.

She looks at him. He is in the kitchen cutting vegetables for the house. It occurs to Natasha the next race could be her last. She signed a one-tournament contract with Marux and hasn't flown at all well so far.

The fans must be calling for Nikolai to take my seat, she thinks, Especially since he scored more points in one race than I did in two.

She takes her thoughts back to the first time she flew an A-G ship. When she had yet to be nicknamed "Ballerina," and she felt she would become the first female A-G superstar. She felt so sure she'd rise to fame, take consecutive victories, and enter the Russian Hall of Aces like her great-grandfather did long ago.

It takes some effort before Natasha could get her father to take her to the race celebrations.

It is a formal ball but she arrives intentionally underdressed. She looks like she dove into her "backyard barbecue party" wardrobe this time. She is allowed in. The Swiss pilot steps back and watches fearfully, as does the rest of the people in attendance. Her father follows her, returning the nervous glances shot in their direction.

She spots him. He is at a table, holding a glass of white wine, talking to what seem like his crewmates. Natasha marches before him and offers her hand to Victor.

He stares at her. Natasha's father materializes beside her. "Let us dance," she says.

"I don't think this is-" her father mumbles.

"Sure!" Victor answers, taking her hand.

Natasha dislikes how he moves. There's something in the nonchalant way he walks with her to the floor that irritates her. He is the enemy, after all, she thinks to herself, Here to pretend he didn't break into my team's hangar.

They dance with a different energy to how they danced in Nuevo San Francisco. Natasha holds more of a say in what moves they try, so overall their dancing is less calm, more daring and riskier. Waltz become epics and slow songs become spinfests.

Natasha enjoys embarrassing Victor for a little, but grows tired of it. Victor's not like this.

He gives her a twirl and she forgets where she even is. Victor brings her to a stop and stares at her, his face missing its smile.

Natasha flinches then the ballroom darkens suddenly for her. She looks over her shoulder, unsure what she's looking for but sure she doesn't see it.

She feels a constant pull across the darkness. She grips the pull tightly in her hand and tries to call for her father.