The Time-Filled Race

Speed is not a problem for most people. For them, it's a very simple thing: displacement over time, a measure of movement. For me and a handful of others, it's a slippery thing. Those last few percentage points before we kiss the one inviolable barrier in this universe are wildly elusive, each step closer to lightspeed costing more and more in engine thrust and time dilation. We who play with speed pay dearly for it.

Which explained the way my heart hammered as my rear sensor array picked up something coming up on me. It was dark, its engine pointing away from me - a stern chase. But it was going faster, ever-so-slowly eating up the distance between us.

I checked the displays and hit the throttle with a certain trepidation, watching readouts tremble and flicker. This was going to, quite literally, take years from my life.