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Johonam Rally Starting Line, Day 1, February, 2026
Härkönen wiped the sweat from his forehead as the Talani sun beat down on him. The Firesean press were still a bit away, dealing with the Bourgardien team, which was all well and good. He looked down at Dorogoi, who after finishing his final checks, gave the car a good thumping in the rear fender.
“Looks good, Onni,” the mechanic said with a thumbs up.
Härkönen looked around at the desert, dunes, and distant mountains. “This is just like that time in Aleksandra,” he nodded. “No sweat!”
“Don’t be so sure,” Karvinen chuckled as she went over the course on her ruggedized tablet, the iconic Näätä lettering visible on its thickened spine. “Why do you think they let us keep the Bölverkur pod?”
“In the boot, not the roof!” Härkönen pointed at the tint of the driver’s rear window. “Siiri, I of all people understand the aerodynamics involved in keeping the hardpoints empty.” He rested his elbow, on the roof, in case the Firesean were already on the way, “But I would rather live and lose than get shot and never get to drive another track again! And a pod in the boot, not hooked up to its hardpoint? It might as well be dead weight.”
“Look, if it’s such a problem,” Dorogoi twirled his SK229 playfully, as if to mock his driver, “I can put a pair of NH-9’s in the glove box. One for you, one for Siiri.”
“I need firepower, Sergei, not peace of mind,” Härkönen rolled his eyes at the suggestion. He paused for a moment, thinking hard as he wiped more sweat. “Fine. Maybe I will have that peace of mind too. But think of the wasted potential!”
“Two it is.” Dorogoi got to work, heading to the team’s gun safe.
“Maybe you should grow up and stop thinking back to your high school Jarfi Team days, huh?” Karvinen nudged him with an elbow before putting on her helmet and making her way into the passenger seat.
“Maybe…” Härkönen looked in the direction she was nudging him into and saw the Fireseans finishing up with the Bourgardien team. “But do you know how hard that is?”
“It’s not like you don’t tell us every day, Mr. ‘Puskarähisijä’*,” Karvinen stopped looking his way and focused on her tablet. “Why didn’t you go pro on the Tread Circuit after your Due anyway? Seems like you’ll go crazy if you keep driving an unarmed vehicle.”
“It was a choice between speed and firepower,” Härkönen admitted, his eyes still focused on the glut of reporters. “And while firepower is great, my first love is speed.”
At the first sign of the Fireseans breaking with the Bourgardien team, he straightened up into his well-known relaxed posture.
“Mr. Härkönen!” a sprightly young woman with a charming New Bordelonian drawl caught him first with her mic, “How are you handling the heat this morning?”
Härkönen smiled like he always did when cameras were rolling in his face, composed a response, and shifted into his iconically hilarious Rally Averinish. “Jee, vel, juu nou. It is not fööst taim vii draiv in sänd. Vii vöör in Aleksandra, bi-foor dö... öö... pro-blems. It is kvait hot, kvait drai ol-sou. Bat o-kei. Nou dra-ma. Vii pus.”* He wiped another gob of sweat from his forehead, the irony not lost on him.
“And what do you make of the rumors of the course potentially running through areas with hostile populations?” She asked with a knowing smirk. Firesea was perhaps one of the few nations on the planet that understood the Elfric value of the armed freeman.
“Jee, vel. Saa is kvait nais gai. Hii sei o-kei, vii kän teik ve-pons. Foor seif-ti,” Härkönen replied, pointing his thumb into the cabin, “Siiri is in täär. Sii teiks keär of as. Sii is dö se-ku-ri-ti.”*
“Eight hundred kilometers, eight days, and eighty contestants. Are you expecting to come out on top?” And of course, she couldn’t resist dropping the tagline.
“Bei-bi, ai ol-veis plei tu vin. Sergei ol-veis kiips kaar in vin-ning seip. Änd Siiri is ol-veis kii-ping as on vin-ning koors.” Because that was the team philosophy, of course. “Sou if sänd gous tu eär-kon-di-son, oor vii hit roks dät breik aour Näätä tai-ers, it das not mät-ter. Vii pus.”*
“Is there anything you would like to say to you fans in the Firesea?” Of course. That’s what they asked sometimes. An obligatory fan message.
Härkönen had to stop himself from the natural reaction, ‘I have fans in the Firesea?’. Because of course he did. He didn’t make a name for himself doing rallies just to be popular in Kirjaland. Though of course, he would always be faithful to his home region. Instead, it was the usual rehearsed spiel that he’d probably said a dozen times for similar interviews anywhere from the rivers of Serbovia to the mountains of Kamigakari. “Ai get juu dät goul-den kä-mel! Ai vil veiv it foor juu ät prais gi-ving. Änd if ai dount, juu kän ran mii of dö klif!”*
There were other questions, but the sun was getting high, and there were dozens of other contestants to talk to. So eventually, they left.
Härkönen sighed as he slipped into the driver’s seat. Dorogoi took that opportunity to arrive and put the PDWs in the glove box.
“Still not going to learn proper Averinish?” Karvinen asked, eyes still glued to the tablet.
“I figured it out a couple years ago,” Härkönen chuckled as he went over the driver’s checklist. “But I’ve seen the memes. They clearly like it better that way.”
Karvinen rolled her eyes. “Of course they do.”
“Alright,” the rally driver finished his inspection and started the car, “Let’s get in position.”
Karvinen smirked. “And today’s playlist is…?”
“The usual,” Härkönen said nothing else, locking into the flow state as he drove the MS ERC to the starting line, the Bjarki and Näätä logos glistening bright in the morning Talani sun.
Karvinen hit play on her tablet, and the speakers began to thump with that
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.
The first day, if nothing else, was going to be interesting.
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1) “Yeah, well, you know. It is not first time we drive in sand. We were in Aleksandra, before the... uh... problems. It is quite hot, quite dry also. But okay. No drama. We push.”
2) “Yeah, well. Shah is quite nice guy. He say okay, we can take weapons. For safety. Siiri is in there. She takes care of us. She is the security.”
3) “Baby, I always play to win. Sergei always keeps car in winning shape. And Siiri is always keeping us on winning course. So if sand goes to air condition, or we hit rocks that break our Näätä tires, it does not matter. We push.”
4) “I get you that golden camel! I wave it for you at prize giving. And if I don’t, you can run me off the cliff!”
