The race grew beyond anything Eoeun had ever imagined.
Locked
tight, they were, to their minute portion, the merest fleck, of the immense
planet; heavy boots, muddy feet, they laughed, and were content to be so.
Carcs
were strange. Eoeun didn't trust them and were wary of reputed powers and
quirks.
Eoeun knew however inexplicable it might seem to all of sober and rational
mind that outlanders would jump to race their carcs. They boasted of their
carcs’ speed, maneuverability, weaponry, and specialties the most mundane
of which were of individual design and bold quiddity.
There
were so many the leaders of the 5 families could not imagine what most
of them were but they knew this: where all this avidity and jealousy and
pride lay, there lay profit. Where there was so much excited and interminable
discussion, there was profit. And there was no profit so worth having as
that derived from contests.
This year as well as riders carc designers, assemblers, sellers, buyers,
gamblers and collectors came by the score. Everything which could possibly
be excused by the most tenuous connection to carcs and riding them was
offered for sale. Out of work riders and aspirant riders offered themselves.
It had become, in 5 cycles, an extravaganza.
Sem
Partoldi wanted it to be more.