Fly Columbia

[Uso]

August 15th, 2322

3rd Annual “Fly Columbia!” Electronics and Engineering Expo,
Thurston Guile Complex,
Olympus Mons Southern Ridge.

The dome-cities of Mars were chaotic and adhoc in their construction, with winding tunnels and narrow access ramps giving off a feeling not unlike old europe on earth. Each building had seen a dozen lifetimes by now, multiple decades of evolving uses. What was once an agri-dome could now be reused as a housing complex- What was an old nuclear power station from the colonial era could easily become the nest of privately funded scientific research.

Representatives from the American Union, the Commonwealth of Worlds and The Neptunian Assembly had chosen it as a meeting place for that entrepreneurial past. The sprawling red dunes represented one of the only times in history mankind had put aside their differences and leapt towards a hopeful tomorrow…

And, well, after several years of government stagnation and two separate interstellar cold wars ongoing, people kind of needed something like that to embrace right now.

The main concourse of the mercantile fair was set inside an old shuttle hangar, turned sports stadium. The place might have been a relic, but the large circular floor plan, two-story glass windows and gleaming trellis of martian stainless steel was a quaint and pleasant sight.

As one descended down the escalators into the main arena, the noise of jovial voices and bustling bodies got louder.

Human beings, robots and genetically engineered creatures from all over, come together to show off their wares! Holographic displays hung overhead, showing all sorts of weird emblems and cartoon mascots. Several of them were imitations of “Bucky Nosecone”, a children’s cartoon character from earth who was little more than a space fighter with cartoon eyes, arms and legs.

Just across from the food court was the presentation stage, where various market representatives were giving explanations and demonstrations of their various products. The current vendor could only be described as half office lady and half pale skinned dragon, a strange and boisterous creature that was the representative of Yangoor Apogee Motors from Ariel.

“From the fastest race craft to the most precise orbital assemblers, all the best vehicles use Yangoor Apogee Motors!” The seven foot tall, long necked creature honked at the crowd, waving their hands towards the screen with a burning internal pride. “Able to function on ammonia, LOX, aluminum dust or base hydrogen, they’ll operate in any environment and save you heaps of money in the process! Please use the contact details on the digital hub to place your inquiries today! And of course, I’ll be available for personal consultation until friday!... Now, before I leave the stage, can I answer any questions from my beautiful audience on this fine day?”

A hand emerged from the crowd, emerging from a six-foot tall Asian woman, donning a red, long-sleeved Cheongsam dress with silver embroideries of flowers and phoenixes, hiding a white biosuit underneath, a civilian shoulderbag crossing her torso. Tattoos of plants sprouted along the left side of her neck, a dash of dark red dyeing part of her hair, tied up in a ponytail.

“What’s the maximum acceleration your racecraft can achieve? What features inside it maintain the health and safety of the pilot?” The woman asked curiously with a Mandarin-Texan accent.

“And what are you doing after this?,” asked yet another woman, short cropped pink and white hair along with a racing suit in matching candy pink with white striping. She didn’t seem to be the bashful type either, showing plenty of skin along her chest and shoulders which showed two things very clearly: That she was no stranger to tattoos and also that her racing suit seemed to be vacuum-formed to her body in ways that seemed to defy common materials science. As if to accent her eye-catching nature, her outfit carried with it the logos of various small distributors for racing parts ranging from rockets to racing tires. “You can’t really be spending all your time selling motors?”

The dragon was in the midst of pondering the first woman’s question when the second question made them tense up and go flustered, batting their frilly mermaid-like to one side subconsciously. It was hard to tell if these women were actual east asians from earth, a rare community from space, or straight up Daqin rather than imitators; But they looked rich, and Imogen Kotema Harding knew instantly they were exactly the kind of people that might land them that promotion!

“A-acceleration? With the new Model Cutlass packing the KG17 Coaxial Gas NTR engine, the maximum rated thrust is close to 17,800,000 newtons!” The confidence in the working lady’s heart stumbled but then regained itself, projecting outward through a pearly clean grin with fangs the size of a man’s finger. “Our KD-6 Model fuel tanks come with their own special temperature regulation, magnetic shielding and five-layer whipple shield casing, ensuring that our full range of products is able to take a real beating! Specialist counter-inertial gravitation projectors can keep a regular human pilot alive well past the recommended constant of 9 Gs!”

The more revealingly dressed woman was more difficult to answer, least of all because the demure lizard couldn’t look at those curves without blushing. Their triangular mouth hung open for a moment, snapped shut again, and she straightened her burgundy suit out reflexively.

“I..I think this is the most busy I’ve ever seen Mars! Surely it would be a shame to pass up shopping during an opportunity like this!” Imogen deployed the company-friendly answer as carefully as possible, actively feeling the camera-feeds breathing down her neck. “If that is all, please place your orders on the digital hub, and our marketing team and advisors will contact you with an immediate quote!”

The poker face continued as she smiled and waved to the audience, exiting through the curtain on the left of the stage and breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Took a few moments to plan their next move. It was easy enough to track down the contact details of those two; Their austentatious appearances made finding the records of their guest passes quite straight forward.

But still, as her clawed hand hovered inches above her communicator’s keypad, her heart wouldn’t stop fluttering and seizing up. Could she actually pull off talking to those kinds of people without completely screwing things up, like the big clumsy dinosaur she was?

<“Do you enjoy coffee? I know a place. -Kotema.”> The eventual messaged the taller, more professional lady, keeping it simple.

A pause, then her hands returned to the keypad.

<”You two are together, right? -Kotema.”> This message was for the lady more stylized as a race pilot. <”I’m here on business, but I could spare an hour or two, sure…”>

<”I will take you up on that offer. Meet in a few minutes?”>

Li Mingzao tapped send on her datapad, looking up the glass windows with an amused snort. In any other situation, she would’ve politely declined to talk with a corporate in-person regarding technology she had no intention of buying; she had neither the time nor the money to afford most things at this convention, her purpose here being purely academic curiosity, to loiter around during her shore leave to see what the human sphere, and beyond, had to offer.

Was that dragon Daqinren? Animalisitc bioengineering wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for others in the human sphere. Ariel… Mingzao had to scroll across her datapad to recall Sol history. A moon of Uranus, which didn’t get nearly as much attention as Neptune. A corporate representative from this gravity well piqued her interest, the dragon’s physiology even moreso.

The pain hair’d woman was happy to open up a three way chat, replying directly to Kotema’s question, <“Maybe after a few drinks we could see where the night goes.”> she replied, <”Not much of one for suits when considering who I’m together with.”> Her name listed on the pass was Bois Supergrass… certainly sounded fake but who could tell these days? Perhaps it was some kinda persona, after all she carried herself as if she was being watched by an audience. Her lack of a need for a keyboard also hinted at the level of augmentations under her skin.

“Well, there it is.” Kotema said to herself in base reality, still standing backstage. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was either going to make a massive sale, or get carted off to Daqin space against her will and made into some kind of dragon-pet… She couldn’t do that! She had massive sales quotas to meet! Didn’t they know the Uranian market really had something to prove!?

A crew member was staring at her practically hyperventilating. The lizard got her claws out and grimaced to scare them off.

 

[Uso]

—-----

The coffee shop was called Lorenzo’s Oil, a retro-wave hippyish sort of place with transparent plastic furniture and a weird purchant for hanging everything possible from the ceiling. This sort of ‘floating restaurant’ was popular in the colonial era, but Kotema really just liked it because the coffee was strong, and they had those long lounge chairs that didn’t get in the way of her tail.

Would the two foreign customers appreciate this kind of aesthetic?... Hard to tell. One of them seemed to have a very sharp demeanor, straight to the point. Kind of scary, but they got the feeling they could have a really deep technical conversation with them. The other lady… Man, she must have been marketing or something. She was intimidating in exactly the opposite way.

“I should have just offered them burgers. I want burgers.” Was the next absent minded vocalization, staring out of the huge triangular windows into a rusty red landscape.

“Burgers sound good. The North American district is just a couple of blocks out.” The tall Asian woman stopped and stood to the side of the dragon, waiting to be offered a seat. Now with a closer look, the dragon could see that the woman was physically energetic, her gaze sharp and leery, the faintest of small scars across her cheeks and under her eyes, her pale face rugged. The Cheongsam was not an ideal outfit.

“Li Mingzao.” The woman offered her hand. “If the Mandarin is too awkward for you, you can just call me Zowy, or just by my surname, Li.”

“Li Mingzao is fine! Welcome!” Kotema shot upwards with a start, then made a deep but awkward bow. It was difficult not to get in people’s personal space, with a neck that long. “My name is Imogen Kotema Harding! It’s a very big pleasure to meet you!”

Still looking a bit ruffled and tense, they crossed their arms whilst they examined the lean and athletic woman. As with all things these days, it was getting increasingly hard to figure out what was going on ‘under the hood’. But they were attractive and finely equipped, which made them a little intimidating.

Moving a seat outwards for the mysterious woman, huge and bulky dragon still leaned a bit too far forward, unintentionally leering over them…

“...T-this is a vocaliser, it’s the only reason I can talk at all, with teeth like these!” She pointed at the silver disk placed on her neck, above the voice box. Perhaps the best way to break the ice was to talk about such personal augmentations? “Might I ask which party you represent? I’m interested in getting to know more about you!”

“Seems you to have already gotten to know eachother?” The woman-in-pink said as she made her approach, “showing up second is a new feeling for me,” She seemed quite pre-occupied with the decoration, slowly orbiting the table that Kotema chose to take in the design, the construction, the transparent nature it all, before finally settling on a seat where she could easily split her attention between Kotema and Li Mingzao. She stayed back from the table enough to swing one of her legs over the other before resting her hands on her knees.

She didn’t feel the need to introduce herself,

“So what does a Dragon drink?” She asked, her attention focused on Kotema’s eyes.

The lizard’s head turned to track the woman in pink without moving the rest of their body, only settling backwards when they realized the deer in headlights expression they were giving off.

“Coffee is fine!” Their slightly raspy voice answered, too-short arms making a rapid gesture of fixing their hair. “...I couldn’t get much information on you, but… You are a spacecraft racer, I presume?”

At this point they were practically breaking their back trying not to leer, but the unknown woman’s clothes were incredibly revealing. It wasn’t exactly great business practice for a seven foot tall monster to look like they were about to bite you in half, so they suppressed it.

They were Daqin, right? They had to be Daqin…

This seemed to spark her attention, getting her to lean forward just as much as the lizard leaned back. The pink racing suit was open down the front, and seemed to cling to her body to avoid slipping out of place. “Black? Blonde? Flavored with the blood of virgins?” She asked, taping once on the table and queuing up her order to send off electronically, the transparent table showing a read-out of just what she’d asked for, something called a Lungo. The menu reading out that it was a long-pull espresso with high caffeine content. “... Spacecraft, Cars, that new Bipedal series races, anything that can hold my interest. Not that I’m the most interesting thing here.”

“I’m sure with that get up, you can do anything to get the musing crowd to throw money at you.” Mingzao sat down in the free space next to Kotema. Tapping the table, she ordered a green tea milk coffee, along with a white chocolate cookie. “I don’t know enough about the celebrity scene in Sol to make a guess beyond what you have to offer visibly.”

“As for me,” She looked at Kotema, then looked out the window. “I’m an HFR marine on shore leave. I was going to head down to Earth, but it was actually cheaper to come to this expo. Getting back out of that gravity well is expensive.”

“Earth is expensive for sure. The old world has old tastes.” The dragon’s tone became a little wistful, as if they could rarely afford to go there themselves. The body language this ‘Supergrass’ was projecting on the other hand, made Kotema slowly catch on to their real objectives. A certain veiled aggressiveness was returned now, leaning back more and letting their angular head reach closer to the ceiling. It was unclear how intentionally they were projecting that creak of their plastic-material clothing, a clear sign that it was struggling to hold back the unfathomably large assets within. “You’d probably find them too judgemental anyhow. It’s only up here that the meat of a person really matters, you know?”

“...Black coffee. Extra large. Double dozen donuts, assorted.” The creature brought that barely contained agitation back around again, deciding to channel it into destroying something delicious. “...So… I guess this means ya’ both really weren’t gonna buy anything from me, huh?”

“I don’t know about Ms. Exhibitionist over here, but no, sorry.” Mingzao smiled and apologized sheepishly, “I’m just here to look at the cool technology different companies are putting out. I hope we’re not being a waste of time.”

“I didn’t come out here for rocket-engines, but I like to keep my options open.” Supergrass replied, backing off Kotema enough so that the space between them was more even, “Of course we assemble our rocket engines ourselves, but that’s largely done through buying and modifying off the shelf engines. Sometimes YOUR engines. I’ve done the quarter-mile thing before and it’s so… American. Not quite interested in returning to rocket-drag but there is talk about setting up a Formula-R-minus league here on Mars to help with the low gravity.”

The Exhibitionist leaned in again at this point, forgetting about her little game,

“Thing is, the rules just came out on what is and isn’t allowed. Internal combustion, electric, rocket, it is all on the table and no-one knows what the META is going to be!” She said with excitement creeping into her voice.

“Bah, it’s okay, it’s not like I paid to make this trip myself.” Kotema sounded just a little defeated, coming out like a rather nassily honking sound. “To be honest, I’m surprised anyone is throwing money at the small stuff right now, with the arms race going on… Good old fashioned chemical thrusters like Yangoor Apogees have their place; You aren’t carting around a massive reactor like anti-grav or arc-jet. But in a straight line drag race, yeah, you might-a-wise do the turning with light sails, for all it matters… Of course the first ice giant has Helium–3, but that’s not Ariel’s department. Those big ass Saturn or Neptune freighters are hard to compete with.”

“...But anyways, you asked me if I did anything but selling motors…” The dragon shifted in their seat and paused, throwing a huge tongue around their fangs as the service robot approached. The doughnuts were huge, and cheap- It probably had something to do with that genetically engineered macro-wheat that was only really practical to grow on mars. Kotema’s webbed claws grasped two glazed rings and a chocolate filling, making them vanish from existence instantaneously. The trumpet noises they made whilst enjoying food were even dumber sounding than their annoyed noises. But she didn’t care. Her face was lit up. “You know Thurston Guile was a famous low-grav martial arts champ, right? His dojo holds an expo that challenges all comers every year… Entry considerations are kind of mysterious, but I thought I might give that a watch while I am here, ya know?”

“Is this staged wrestling? Or are they actually going to be hurting each other? There are people around here that are so risk-averse they won’t even take off their ties.” Supergrass considered trying one of the doughnuts, but at the rate they were being eaten she didn’t want to lose a hand. Instead she ordered her own pastry from the back and continued the discussion, “.... I think I’d die on one of those freighters, could you imagine going for months without real-time access to entertainment? Much less any way to stretch your legs… I suppose we could go back to talking technical specifics but how much fun is that?”

Would it be cheating to join a fight if one had good military training? Checking out the Martian martial arts scene could be fun, maybe they could even show up GKF training procedure. “Sports are a mixed bag nowadays.” Mingzao commented with the sip of her tea-coffee. “There’s so many different bio and cybernetics out there that completely fair competition is basically impossible. Even if the player doesn’t use them, how can you prove they didn’t inherit gene therapy from their parents?”

 

[Uso]

“Still,” She mused, “I’ll go watch, if nothing else than for the spectacle.”

“I mean, Supergrass might have asked the right thing first.” The dragon made one of those befangled grins. “The guy has a whole dome named after him. He’s big money. I heard he has like five garbo movies. How do we know any of it is real?”

“..Not that I have an eye for that, in all honesty.” A quirk of the neck implant- They were talking whilst shoveling another trio of donuts into their mouth at the same time. “I find it fun to watch, but the physicality of it all is kind of a mystery to me… Y’know… because I sell engines… not because I’m a big lizard…”

“Is this something that you two know a lot about? Seems kind of strange that you are into it conceptually, but you don’t know about that guy… You sure you aren’t spies?”

More donuts. More coffee. The tone was completely absent minded, but the question hung in the air.

“Well I run in certain circles, while it seems Thurston fights inside of them.” Supergrass replied, “Not that I would expect a suit to really get someone like Thurston. After all a completely fair competition would always result in a draw It doesn’t matter too much to me if Mr. Thrurston wins because he’s better or because they’ve written it into the script… so long as it isn’t boring.”

"My grandparents spoke of pro-wrestling before they emigrated out of New Texas," Mingzao commented, "But we don't see it often in Li Ming. There's pingpong and mixed martial arts, but not this performative sport that's implied." She shook her head, then took a bite out of her cookie. "I don't know enough about Sol in general, but that's what I'm here for: to learn more about the supposed cradle of humanity while I'm on leave. Fake martial arts or not, it should be interesting." Mingzao gave an energetic look and a small smile.

“Good wrestling is all about good story,” Supergrass replied, “Wrestlers on earth once held a big match in Korea. No one there had seen pro wrestling either… had no idea what they were watching when they saw the opening fights… but once they saw the Big Asian fighting the American they were screaming. It really spoke to them… though I suppose a real fight isn’t much different. A good rivalry is what elevates a real contest… Have either of you ever watched Martian Formula racing? Same kinda rivalry has been forming between the Reinhart and Machine Head teams. Reinhart loves to push the boundaries of what it can get away with, so long as it isn’t strictly against the rules you know? Rubbin’s Racin’ and all that. Ruined a lot of people’s shot at a title doing it too. Machine-Head deliberately hit ‘em during last year’s circuit. Instantly made them a crowd-favorite.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’...” Kotema completed their earlier sentiment, a glazed ring donut hanging out of their mouth whilst the other two ladies feigned disinterest, yet managing to tell her all about it. “The Uranians have a MF team called Ultra Protozoa, but I seem to remember hearing those were the rebranded Earth L3 team that got disbanded for using drivers on performance enhancing drugs… Yeah, those guys really didn’t keep the mystery under wraps very well.”

“Well, if you two were gonna go watch some competition, we might as well make it interesting, I guess…” The box of donuts was gone. Deleted from existence. “I bet you can’t land a punch on Thurston himself! How’s about that! If you can’t then, hurm… You owe me…”

A mischievous smile, leaning their chin on both of their hands, eyes narrowing and tail swaying to and throw.

“Your secrets! You gotta tell me what’s really going on with you two!”

Mingzao smiled innocently and shrugged, taking a sip of her tea-coffee. “I told you, I’m a marine on leave, and I have no idea who Ms. Exhibitionist is; my experience in Sol has been hanging around in a frigate, anxiously waiting for the Daqinren to arrive.” She wasn’t lying, and disclosing mostly everything.

“I’m secretly a Daqin princess who’s gotten bored of the Imperial life and is now trying to make it on my own with nothing but my wits and my mother’s bank account!” Supergrass replied with a laugh. “They should really legalize the performance enhancing drugs. All of the high-end racing series are better when they allow MORE.”

“You’re no fun! Even if this competition was closed or full of toadies, I could use my business connections to get us through the doors, ya’ know…” The dragon replied, still putting on that sinister yet playful expression. “I dunno, since none of us are from this place, does it really matter if we get in a little trouble?...”

The look between the two of them became a little more suspect, the longer she let the sentiment hang. Mingzao did look like some kind of soldier, but the dress seemed a little fancy compared to their personality. And this ‘Supergrass’... Well, that all had to be yet another thing that they were just making up, right?

How could they leverage this situation so that the lies might become more obvious?

“...Hurm, if you can smoke that guy, then… Well, what do you two bet?” They crossed their arms, a bit miffed they couldn’t make this dumb plan more exciting. “You at least gonna tell me why some rich princess gets herself covered in flowers like some ol’ earth gangster? I’ll get won-a-doez myself if you can do it, even.”

Probably a bridge too far, but eh, all in the name of adventure, right? No way these two were the real deal, anyway. They’d already lied once.

“I think a little bit of trouble is called for even if we were from this place,” Supergrass replied.

“I’ll go as far as I can, as long as it doesn’t make the news.” Mingzao winked.

Supergrass was unexpectedly thrilled to hear that from the suit, “Sounds like we’re all interested in making this interesting.”

“Hurm, the news…” The dragon considered. If they were gonna compete officially, they should have applied months ago- And even then there was no way of telling if the accepted applicants were on the payroll, like any common magician accepting volunteers from the audience. But there were ways to gatecrash this, even if it was doing things a little questionably. “What if we were the news?”

She got out her small flip-communicator and extended the tripod so it could stand on the table, projecting a holographic keyboard and mouse for them to use.

What a quaint antique! Yangoor Apogee must not pay her much…

“Here. There were some people from Halcyon Media who were covering both events. I have their press passes on file.” She said, whilst doing an extremely fast hack-job of taking their pictures and photo-editing them onto digital pass forms, and then emailing them to her two new friends. “If they use the QR code and name to check public records, they won’t line up, but I doubt the cheap security people will go that in-depth before letting us through the front door.”

That was the problem with cults of personality, right? It wasn’t illegal to lie to them!

“Finish your confectionery, and then we can take my rental car!” Another one of those befangled grins, Kotema again put way too much effort into looking cute, as if that would make them not beyond seven foot tall. “An army marches on its stomach, after all!”

~~~~~~~~

The rental auto-pod was driven manually by the dragon, in order to stop the cached navigational data from being automatically flagged if they got into real trouble. Being a rental, they might check that- Still didn’t stop Kotema from taking up both of the front seats and driving the cheap, plastic-feeling bubble-car like she was sitting on a lounge chair.

She was a terrible driver prone to ‘wheel dancing’ left and right when she couldn’t get past someone. The trans-dome tunnels were packed, and the traffic speed regulated, so that was pretty often. Several massive events going on within a place that was normally a ghost town, and all that.

They parked at the agricultural center one dome over from the actual car-stacking tower, then went on foot across the breezy corrugated-tube walkways up into the larger and much more crowded entertainment complex.

Merchandisers and scalpers were everywhere- No shortage of suits taking their kids, mixed in with the odd trollish-looking adult fan that may or may not have started this obsession ironically.

The stadium itself was hexagonal and chrome, towering walls reaching way up into the substructure. It was probably built by just walling off the pre-existing supports for the dome above this one, but still looked impressive and airy in its own right.

Kotema and another dragon caught sight of each other over the sea of smaller bodies, and just stared each other down for a minute. Then she sought out the VIP line and ushered her two companions towards it.

“Wouldn’t suggest buying anything. Paper trail.” She didn’t look down, perhaps pretending she didn’t know them. “That’s him, there…”

 

[Uso]

The giant banner with a stern looking, well-mustached man was clearly what she was pointing out. Long-ish blonde hair, thin eyes, and a slightly crooked nose. He did kind of have that face that was recognisable, but only from the Z-tier movies that heck-knows-who actually watched.

Does paper even exist on Ariel? Traditions and language die hard. Mingzao wondered as she followed Kotema, then her gaze to the image Thurson Guile. Before arrival, she took a quick detour to change out of her Cheongsam into a more casual orange jumpsuit with darker embroideries, still distinctly of the HFR. She showed her false badge, giddying to herself, disguised as a polite smile. How much trouble was she willing to get herself into on leave? That was a question yet to be answered.

She put her focus back on the image. Macho-looking actors were a dime a dozen, easily created with widely available aesthetic modifications. This Guile must’ve won the crowd with his personality on top of physical appearance. His actual prowess is most likely overblown.

“A second dragon?” Supergrass asked, all of a sudden her interest excessively peaked by this new development, “Are your kind common around here? Or is this something special?” She had not bothered to change, being as loud as ever even if she wasn’t talking. “For that matter, have you ever considered putting in the time to join the drone-racing circuit? Your reaction times could even give me a run for my money.”

“Antediluvian class-14. You know, that Venus company.” Kotema’s neck arced around, so that they could speak to Supergrass whilst their body was walking in the other direction. “The early ones were supposed to be for fighting and terraforming stuff, but swimming in cold water was a welcome bonus for isolated colonies… You mean you couldn’t tell I was a mammal rather than an actual reptile?... But yeah, we are normally more common on icy planetoids, rather than the big gravity well rocks…”

Well, it certainly explained the fins and mermaid qualities. The make was famous enough, though an archaic thing from back when Neptune and Venus cooperated more in genetic engineering concepts.

“Reaction times, well… Why don’t you have a nice comfy desk job? I don’t even know if I’m allowed in half of those circuits, with what my genome looks like…”

Kind of a sticky subject, but they were doing their best to wear it on their sleeves. Actually, they seemed more concerned with why Mingzao seemed so silent and serious all of a sudden.

Getting closer to the front of the que, rapidly. The actual fans were looking super jealous through that chain-linked fence…

Or maybe it was just the clothes that Supergrass was wearing.

“Seems like you have fans of your own.” Mingzao teased Supergrass. She looked around, seeing men and women in all sorts of undress, proudly showing off their physical modifications to their outward appearances. Of course, Supergrass’ outfit was the most well put together here, in contrast to the baggy civilian suit she wore. That was all well and good; it kept eyes off of the marine as she did as she pleased. “I never have time to put together something optimal.” She complained, half-joking.

“We’ll have to go shopping sometime, we’ll get you out of your suit and test out some optimizations,” Supergrass offered, effortlessly moving in an outfit that clung to her curves like supergrass herself making laps on the track. Her mastery of sleekness coming to her as naturally as breathing. Her attention would quickly drift back to their dragon as if the crowd wasn’t there, “you know, the unlimited series races allow for any kind of pilot, it is geared to those of us who are better racers than the average person. Reflexes and racing skill are deciding factors. Reptile, mammal, pure robot… it is all the same to them.”

“So, are your reflexes modified?” Kotema asked with naive honesty, realizing they were getting near to the service window, and beginning to fumble through their synth-leather handbag for their communicator. “Doesn’t it spook you that making your senses so different from everybody else’s could isolate you? Maybe mine are a bit over the human norm, but that doesn’t mean I’m pushing it to the limit like some of the mod-brained folks out there…”

She had a bit of a complex tone to this comment. It was still in living memory when people made poorly veiled jokes about genemoded workers all just being sex dolls for the ‘real human’ workers. Especially in places like Ariel, where nobody in their right mind would choose to live there… Perhaps Kotema was afraid of standing out more than they already did?

“...Excuse me miss, you are holding up the line.” The security guard glared, from behind a wall of hardened perspex. Kotema was shocked back to life and showed the QR code that was pulled up on the screen, receiving a yellow-banded lanyard without issue.

Entering in through a dark corridor, the press were directed to their own special waiting area near the participant’s preparation rooms. It was relatively empty, with only a sleeping blonde haired lady and some heavy-set dark skinned dude taking up the cheap seats at the far end. The occasional official, trainer or waterboy rushed through, but seemed rather more involved in their own personal business.

No security, though. Not unless you counted those ever-present posters staring down upon the trio.

Supergrass would let Kotema take the lead, getting them through the security while she paid a close attention to the conversation. Sure the guards may have been looking at her, but that meant there were less eyes to scrutinize their credentials, “More like, finely tuned. The fastest and most powerful machines require the most dexterous riders.”

Mingzao’s smile wavered at the conversation. They were talking about the Daqin and the Chongwu now, Frankenstein children and Frankenstein grandchildren of the mainlanders. She looked up, past the ego-filling banners, beyond the dome, to the skies and void beyond. Her comrades were mobilizing against the Daqin up there, and yet here she was, on leave. What did that make her? The Han woman couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Kotema and Supergrass’ conversation on bionetics. History is so ta-ma-de troublesome. She checked her datapad, double checking and triple checking that she wasn’t summoned, before going back to distract herself with the crowds and the shitty banners. They were pompous, but at minimum they were at peace.

<"Well, moment of truth."> Kotema used her communicator to avoid arousing the suspicion of the two actual reporters. She could tell that Mingzao and Supergrass were distracted, but this part wasn't really a decision she could make for herself. <"You can either go into those locker rooms and try to find an ID card, enter the contest as somebody else… or we can just go up through the bleachers and watch this comedy fold undisturbed.">

Mingzao made a decision. She wasn’t about to abuse her training and bionetics to beat the daylights out of some fake martial artist and cause a scene with her face everywhere, not yet anyways. She’ll watch this clown show on the sidelines. Wordlessly, she nodded to Kotema, eyeing the bleachers and headed in that direction.

“Entering the contest is an option?” Supergrass asked, her attention abruptly pulled away from the current conversation. She tried to look over at the locker rooms as if she expected herself to have magical x-ray vision. “Does that mean it is an actual contest? Where they fight for real?” She didn’t seem to waste any time by gently grabbing the sleeves of her new friends to guide them towards the lockerroom.

“Wait---” Mingzao stuttered, then smiled and shook her head, resignedly. Looks like she’ll have her trouble in Sol after all. Silver lining: it was getting shot up by the Daqinren.

“Now hey, hold!-” Kotema protested immediately before the SKEEE~-GONK sound of her whacking her head on the top of the doorframe-

“It’s vetted months in advance! That means he probably choses very specific opponents!” Her tone was an exasperated whisper, trying not to be overheard. “Even if the accepted entrants aren’t simply his employees, he’s gonna remember if they chose somebody like me, in’t-e?”

 

[Uso]

Clothes once again straining at their seams, the dragon unintentionally let out a more animalistic side of themselves, with that massive maw and hulking form suddenly getting very agitated about the prospect of getting pulled around. Donut smell wasn’t really that nice being processed and breathed out again by an indignant ten foot tall monster.

“...Look, I’m your ‘manager’, okay? If anybody asks?” An angular look at the stoic Mingzao, and then back over to the more troublesome of the pair. “...What’s that moon that looks like a ravioli?… Pan. Tell ‘em we are from Pan… Okay?”

“Well just one look at you and they’ll know I’m well managed… how about you Mingzao? Wanna be my ring-girl?” Supergrass asked.

"As long as I don't have to do fighting myself, I think we're going to be fine. Hopefully." Mingzao let out a worried chuckle.

“The outfit I want to put you in might be a bit of a fight,” Supergrass said, hoping to find something suitably flashy once they got to wherever they were going, “... So come on Manager-Senpai, lets find me something to wear into the ring.”

“I mean, what we find is what we fi- Quick, hit me!” Kotema’s voice changed on a dime, becoming a little urgent as those other two reporters started walking in their direction. They held their palms out, and suddenly looked even more aggressive. “Don’t hold back! Make it look like you’re on drugs or something!”

Kotema's world went red as Mingzao smashed her straight in the snout with a well placed fist, her marine instincts kicking in, sending the dragon down to the ground dazed and with a very bloody nose. Mingzao looked stunned herself for a moment, before she growled and spit on Kotema's semi-conscious body. "Cao ni ma, (fuck your mother), ta ma de furry." She cringed with every word. What the fuck was going on?

It certainly did the trick of signaling to the reporters that they were fighters, and probably too dangerous to be approached- Though Kotema really could have communicated better that they meant hitting their palms in a training style, and not actually sparking them out like a bar room brawl.

She murmured for a moment and stirred, but kinda just scraped the floor with her horn, and didn’t manage to get up yet… Rather than making the man and woman not question it, the overly aggressive action kind of made them just stand and stare, too.

“You looking to join the fight too?” Supergrass asked the reporters, offering her hand to Kotema before wondering if she could even help lift the dragon up? The dragon was quite a bit heavier than her… “We’re so excited we can hardly keep our hands to ourselves.”