Free Dragon's Teeth by Mercedes Lackey

suffered.
    Well, those people didn’t have to invest their money, their time, or their expertise in racing. The announcement that the Indianapolis 500 would be held in 1946 had given those behind the project the incentive they needed to get the plans off the drawing board and into action. The Prince in Monaco had helped immeasurably by offering to host the first race. Monte Carlo had not suffered as much damage as some of the other capitals, and it was a neutral enough spot to lure even the Germans there.
    She shook herself mentally. Woolgathering again; it was a good thing she was out of the cockpit and on the sidelines, if she was going to let her thoughts drift like that.
    Jimmy nodded understanding as the steering-specialist made little wiggling motions with his hand. Dora cast another glance up and down pit row, then looked down at the hands of her watch. Time.
    She signaled to the crew, who began to push the car into its appointed slot in line. This would be a true Le Mans start; drivers sprinting to their cars on foot and bullying through the pack, jockeying for position right from the beginning. In a way, she would miss it if they went to an Indy-type start; with so little momentum, crashes at the beginning of the race were seldom serious—but when they were, they were devastating. And there were plenty of promising contenders taken out right there in the first four or five hundred yards.
    She trotted alongside Jimmy as they made their way to the starting line. “All right, now listen to me: save the engine, save the tires. You have a long race ahead of you. We’ve got a double whammy on us,” she warned. “Remember, a lot of drivers have it in for Bugatti because of me—and the Europeans aren’t really thrilled with the Bugatti preference for Yankee drivers. The other thing: this is Ford country; Ford is fielding six cars in the factory team alone. None of the other chiefs I’ve talked to know any of the drivers personally, which tells me they’re in Ford’s back pocket.”
    “Which means they might drive as a team instead of solo?” Jimmy hazarded shrewdly. “Huh. That could be trouble. Three cars could run a rolling roadblock.”
    “We’ve worked on the engine since the trials, and there’s another twenty horse there,” she added. “It’s just the way you like it: light, fast, and all the power you need. If I were you, I’d use that moxie early, get yourself placed up in the pack, then lay off and see what the rest do.”
    She slowed as they neared driver-only territory; he waved acknowledgment that he had heard her, and trotted on alone. She went back to the pits; the beginning of the race really mattered only in that he made it through the crush at the beginning, and got in a little ahead of the pack. That was one reason why she had given over the cockpit to a younger driver; she was getting too old for those sprints and leaps. Places where she’d hurt herself as a dancer were starting to remind her that she was forty-five years old now. Let Jimmy race to the car and fling himself into it, he was only twenty-five.
    The view from her end of pit-row wasn’t very good, but she could see the start if she stood on the concrete fire-wall. One of the men steadied her; Tonio, who had been with her since she was the driver. She handed her clipboard down to him, then noticed a stranger in their pit, wearing the appropriate pass around his neck. She was going to say something, but just then the drivers on the line crouched in preparation for the starting gun, and her attention went back to them.
    The gun went off; Jimmy leapt for his car like an Olympic racer, vaulting into it in a way that made her simultaneously sigh with envy and wince. The Bugatti kicked over like a champ; Jimmy used every horse under that hood to bully his way through the exhaust-choked air to the front of the pack, taking an outside position. Just like she’d taught him.
    The cars pulled out of sight, and she jumped down off the