The Great Mole Terrestrial Equipment Construction Tournament; 13th of Clawpril, Mole Year 193.
Location: Main Molerdom Underground System, Puławy, Poland.
"…What do you mean it's not ready?"
Thomas darted his small head left and right, fidgeting with his claws. Despite his poor vision, the disappointment on Freddie's face was very apparent.
"I've given you, what, 2 mole weeks to sort this out? And you've only finished the chassis?!"
Thomas had to respond. Something. Anything. Freddie's look became palpable. He could feel it prodding at him like jutting granite.
"…It was only a mole week and a half…", he sheepishly responded.
…
The room was submerged in a thick, uncomfortable silence.
"You know what. I need a break. Before I say something I'll regret."
Chucking his small rusty wrench to the side, Freddie stormed off, waddling away. Thomas' gaze was still fixated on the floor. He told himself he'd prove to everyone that he's worthy of becoming an engineer of the fabled M.I.T.S.E. Yet here he is, coming short on all of those promises he made.
It was a valiant effort, Thomas thought, for he remembered the long nights spent tinkering on the chassis, making sure the mechanism responded adequately to the plywood steering device, along with all the other smaller changes and fixes throughout. Everything worked so far, but he was behind schedule. The grand showing was only in 4 moledays time, and he knew his family would be in the crowd, cheering for him. But what would there be to cheer for, if he only had half a car?
Freddie, on the other hand, had sorted out everything on his end. He constructed an awesome full-mole suit of armour suited for terrestrial use. It had small lights, was comfortable, fashionable, allowed for the collection of minor debris and refuse, and even had an experimental radio system attached to it. A true work of molecraft. Meanwhile, the rover? In it's current shape: completely unusable for surface use. Which, given that the tournament is specifically for terrestrial equipment, is a calamity waiting to happen.
"Hey, you okay, Tommy?"
The voice startled him a bit. He sniffled his nose a bit, and looked up.
"I told you to call me Thomas…"
"Sorry", the voice responded with a hint of concern. "I saw you were just… standing here, looking at the ground. Everything alright?"
The pensive look on his face told everything. Regardless, he decided to respond.
"I… I didn't know how long it'd take to make the chassis. I haven't gotten around to making the wheels of the rover, let alone the bodywork. I don't think I'll be able to complete it by the time of the showing…"
Observing his construction, she replied: "I mean, it looks good. You'll be in a rush, but I think you can make it in time. Have you got all the parts you need?"
"Yeah, should do… the bodywork will prob-"
FIRE AT HANGAR 2! REPEAT, FIRE AT HANGAR 2!
In a thunder of panic, she quickly turned her head and waddled off, sprinting towards the burning mobile located at the second hangar. Thomas looked in the distance at the small flickering amber as it produced a pillar of smoke, which was encircled by a small team of distraught mole engineers. Just for a moment, the pit in his stomach lessend. He couldn't help but think to himself:
Hey… at least my rover isn't on fire.
Returning to work, Thomas sourced materials for the wheels. The tyres needed to be sturdy yet with a good grip. Looking through some items at the shared goods disposal, he selected a few bits of plastic wrap, some cotton that greyed out due to age, a bit of old chewed up gum, and buttons for the base. The first wheel turned out fine, and he was able to attach it to the front steering rod. The second wheel was attached too, however in hindsight was more of an oval than a circle, forcing a mid-testing change.
Mole hours darted by like mole minutes, and at the end of the moleday, Thomas returned to his small subterranean home. Despite feeling weary, he felt no fatigue in his soul, and barely slept. Short naps were disturbed by sudden creative episodes, when Thomas woke up and had to jot anything down. The fractured night came to an end, and when the morning drew, Thomas sprung out of bed, rushing through his morning rituals. He head out to the testing areas and there he met Freddie once more, tinkering away in the sixth hangar.
"I didn't expect you to be out so early", Thomas remarked.
"The same goes to you. But regardless, we have got to sort this out. I apologise for getting angry at you yestermoleday. I wasn't mad or anything at you. It's just that…"
"Yes, I know. This means a lot to me too. I should've been quicker, but I promise, I took my time for a reason. I didn't slack off."
A short pause followed, before Freddie nodded.
"I never doubted your craftsmoleship, Tommy. But we have to get to work. My suit is ready, so let's make sure the rover is up to par."
"It's Thomas", the disgruntled mole replied dryly.
"Yes, Thomas, of course. Let's get to work!"
Over the span of 3 moledays, the pair worked tirelessly on the rover. Various wheels were tested, some thick, some with less traction; a few polygonal ones as well. Thomas taught Freddie his arsenal of engineering techniques, on how to strengthen composite materials, how to connect wheels to control rods, and other tips and tricks to use for terrestrial mobiles. Freddie listened intently, keen on making the rover up to par by any means necessary. With a completed chassis, bodywork was made with bits of plastic, gum, glue, metal refuse, a sandwich bag, and a coin on top, which was re-painted to show the new Molequeen Pawmelia the Third's face. The Frankenstein car managed to hold up remarkably well, and went through routine resistance testing with no faults. The dynamic duo gave each other a paw-six.
It was now, however, the last day of preparation before tomorrow's big event. Though the mobile was in better shape, it was still noticeably missing some sections around the back. The pair joked this would make the rover more aerodynamic, but they understood they had to resume their strenuous construction work as soon as their impromptu break finished.
"I feel like most of my fur has fallen out."
"Yeah? Well, I don't feel my claws anymore!"
The pair quipped back and forth to make the job at the very least a bit more pleasurable. But as their conversations came and went, the days arrived and dissipated as well. The morning after would be the big day.
Though he eagerly went to his sleeping quarter - some torn wool cotton as the pillow, with a small piece of multicoloured cloth as a makeshift blanket - Thomas' tiredness rapidly transformed into nervousness. He still felt that the mobile wasn't ready. The wheels were imperfect. The seat was perhaps at an off angle. Corners were cut during steering tests. A million thoughts spawned and ricocheted in his head, and the moment one of them went away, two came in its wake. His mind was a hydra of uncertainty. And whatever he tried, he couldn't tame the monster. Imagining rolling rocks, counting to 100 mole seconds, even meditating. Nothing worked.
Frustrated, he got out of bed. He thought of checking on the mobile again, but it would be a foolish endeavour, for the walk to the hangars wasn't a brisk one. Was there anywhere else he could walk, even just for a bit, to lighten the burden of his mind? He pondered, and pondered more, before there was nothing left to ponder. Just then he got a bit sleepy.
But suddenly, he thought to himself;
"Wait, where did I put the torque switch?"
The heavy whisper permeated the air. It likely woke up the moles that slept above, below, to the left, and to the right of him. But he did not care. Off he sprang, waddling faster than ever before.
Immediately, he searched his toolbox which was crudely stuffed under his bed. He had moved away a few other parts during his maniacal search; old steering wheels, pulley systems he forgot he had, even a silver trophy he was looking for was pulled out from under there. But no torque switch…
Where did I last have it? Where did I last have it?!
It seemed so obvious, yet he just didn't know. He kept looking in his room, storming up a formidable cacophony, which at this point definitely woke up at least one of his neighbours. One after the other, things were thrown onto the ground, strewn about the room, and after the whole room was searched, nothing was found.
Well, where else could it be, if not here, but in the hangar?
Access to the hangars outside of working times was a forbidden errand. But Thomas just had to.
And so he went off.
He mapped the route perfectly, and made sure to listen to any sound cues of any moles that could be rummaging around him at this late hour as he did. Thankfully, barely anything was heard. Only when he reached the hangar could he hear the drowsy murmuring of mole security officers - absentminded exhalations of another night shift spent half asleep. A particularly loud guard whose snoring created quite the racket gave the infiltrator a perfect window of timing to sneak in. Moving through a catwalk, he located the fire exit, which if he remembered correctly, should've mapped his path straight back to his hangar. Moving past darting corridors, a few bends, stairways and old lifts, he arrived at a familiar door. Feeling the ground with his paws, a number was made clear to him.
The number 6. His hangar. The door was closed. In a determined search, he felt around the room, before feeling the cover of a vent. He sighed, knowing a tight and uncomfortable crawl came next.
The mole plopped down unceremoniously from the ceiling, dusting himself off. Admiring his rover briefly, he began to look into the cabinets that adorned the chamber. Nothing. Nothing for quite a while. Some paperwork occasionally was found, some stuff that was actually of use. But not the torque switch. No sign of it at all. The last hope is that Freddie took it and placed it somewhere, but he couldn't risk waking up Freddie now. Not after the shenanigans that happened earlier. In the end, the grand scheme worked, as the last cabinet was empty aside from some spare bolts at the bottom.
step… step… step…
It was the guard. Oh no.
Thomas scrambled somewhere as quickly and as quietly as he could. Paralysed by a lack of options, Thomas instinctively sat in the rover, claws on steering wheel. Just a few mole seconds later, the guard appeared in the door way of the chamber. He looked around with his flashlight, sniffling, and peering closer…
Just to… yawn…
And off he waddled again, completely unaware of the shenanigans that just took place. Thomas remained put, waiting until any trace of sound was gone. He briefly thought to himself;
"Hm. I really have to adjust this chair a bit, don't I?"
It was a quiet walk home.
But the moment he made it there, he fell into his bed like how one would imagine a large domino tipping over, before dramatically falling flat.
The morning came. He was awoken by a shrieking alarm on the drawer adjacent to his bed. Turning it off, he sat up, rotated around, and got up on his feet. It's the big day. His stomach dropped just thinking about it. To settle his uneasy conscious, he paid a quick visit to his trusty neighbour, Freddie.
"Freddie! Here you are! I've been looking for you!"
"…What? I mean, yeah. Where else would I be?"
Thomas paused and stared awkwardly. "Oh, sorry to interrupt you."
Freddie chuckled, wiping his face with a towel. "I really appreciate the… umm… eagerness. But I do request some privacy. It's not an emergency, right?"
"No, sorry. I just… couldn't sleep well. Sorry. I'll leave you to it."
As he left Freddie's bathroom, he slapped his small head with his paw. Thinking of how to explain the sudden panic, he paced around his friend's kitchen, waiting for Freddie to walk out.
"You know you have a kitchen of your own, right?", exclaimed the confused yet slightly irritated mole, stepping into the kitchen. "If you ever need something, just tell me, but, you know, don't just waltz in like that."
"The torque switch! We need it! I couldn't find it last night!"
"Oh, so that's what the sound was?"
Freddie wasn't even looking at Thomas as he responded, instead opening the fridge and grabbing various foodstuffs. He stuffed his mouth with a chunk of a potato.
"Well, you woke me up. Probably woke up the upstairs neighbour. Definitely the downstairs one. I almost came to check what the commotion was about myself."
"Torque. Switch. We need it."
"I don't know what that is, Tommy.", Freddie dryly responded, closing the fridge.
"…What do you mean you don't know what that is?", Thomas remarked back.
"…You never told me about a 'torque switch'. Look, the rover works fine. There's not enough time to do some stuff with it anyways. I had to do some last mole minute changes with the suit too. It happens all the time. Just relax, yeah?"
Thomas was still flabbergasted. Not a peep left his snout.
"Sit down, mole. You've worked yourself up for nothing. I hope you're not like this when the showing's starting."
"Oh, no, that'll be different. I trust my technological knowledge much more than… well… anything." Stuttering, Thomas barely managed to squeeze the statement out before taking a seat at Freddie's kitchen table.
"That I can tell." Freddie this time grabbed a bit of worm jerky that was on the counter. "Want some?", he offered the snack to a worried Thomas, shaking the packet around.
"Umm… yeah, sure. Thanks." responded the worried mole, twiddling his claw thumbs.
"Dad always said - if you can't get your mind off something, get your teeth on something instead. You been eating well?"
Chewing through the stringy jerky, Thomas responds: "Honestly, no. I was too focused on the mobile. Like, I've been focusing on it almost solely. Haven't really eaten or drank too much. Sleeping was hard too. Still feel a bit shaky."
"Well, that's why you're so damn stressed out, bud! Come on. Let's have some breakfast, and let's get over to that hangar. Show starts soon."
Maybe it was just his hunger playing tricks on him after all?
When they arrived at the chamber, the humdrum of conversations, announcements, pneumatics, tyre screeches, metal clangs and other sounds associated with engineering was overwhelming. Submerged in this mechanical tirade of endless noise, the two moles had to stay close to hear each other speak.
"We're really almost there, huh?", Thomas remarked. Freddie looked at him and nodded calmly, almost as if he was bored.
"Yup. Right, let's get to business. Can't gauck around forever."
Freddie waddled off to their assigned hangar, where their equipment was ready for testing. Thomas looked around a little more at the other contestants, before waddling to the location of his vehicle.
"So, how much time do we have until the showing, well, actually starts?"
"Erm…", Freddie said, almost humming. "Should be in a few hours."
Thomas looked at the toolbox Freddie was rummaging through.
"I thought you said it's a bit late for last-second adjustments?"
"Well, we do have time. Plus I have my parts with me. Regardless, focus on what's important now - being a good driver."
Before Thomas could respond, Freddie finished his search, and looked back up at him, continuing: "You just make sure you're in a good headspace, alright? We've got some food and drink ready, use the bathrooms at the latest thirty mole minutes before the showing."
Thomas eagerly nodded. Just then, Hazel walked by, the head technician of the tournament. She walked up to him, who was standing a bit awkwardly in the otherwise lively commotion of the place.
"So, you got your mobile up to scratch?"
"Yeah, everything's good now!", Thomas exclaimed.
"Okay, that's great!"
"Oh, I was going to ask - what happened to the vehicle at Hangar 2?"
Hazel, clearly not allowed to give away that much information, jerked her head around briefly, before claiming: "Oh, that? Thruster fault. They've got it sorted now, though."
Hold up… thruster? How am I meant to compete with a thruster if all I have is a car that can't exit first gear?
Thomas gulped, though he understood pretty quickly he was staring into the distance. He looked back at Hazel, who offered a slightly concerned glare.
"Oh, right, yeah, makes sense." responded Thomas, in about as un-cool of a fashion as possible.
"Right, well, I will leave you to be! Good luck! See you in three mole hours time!", mentioned the technician, both amused and confused. Thomas was sure she thought of him as a dork, but to him, right now, that was the least of their concerns. Freddie, on the other hand, watched this unfold in front of him, just knowing he'd be in for another concerned round of questioning by Thomas. Thankfully, Thomas caught his eye too, and decided against it, drawing relief on Freddie's face.
Three mole hours. Those can pass in an instant.
And an instant was over, just like that.
The Great Mole Terrestrial Equipment Construction Tournament is ready to begin.
"Moles of all sorts! Sit tight in your seat, ready your insect mix, and get ready to watch the most exhilarating tournament of all! This is The Great Mole Terrestrial Equipment Construction Tournament, and you are all here to participate in this historic moment!"
Everything came so quickly, and in the matter of a few fleeting moments, the pair found themselves cramming their technologies into a small exhibition chamber. Some quick affirmations with event staff later, the two were putting on their terrestrial suits as quickly as possible.
In a muffled voice, the announcer read: "In hangar 1, we have Ziggy and Jake, with their revolutionary multi-use land rover, and a sophisticated blue metal terrain suit!" The announcement was followed by pneumatic sounds, floodlights beaming into power, and a roar from the crowd.
Hangars 2, 3, 4, and 5 were read, each one becoming louder and clearer. And at last, hangar 6.
There was a very brief silence, then the sound of pistons, and then the lift.
The two rose up to meet the rapturous crowd. Relentless cheering submerged the air, leaving little room for thoughts to wander. The beaming announcer then declared: "In hangar 6, we have Freddie and Tommy, with their multi-use technology experiments!"
It certainly wasn't flattering, but neither of them cared. By now, they were level with the main track, and looked around the arena. In front of them was a massive ring of onlooking moles, stationed in their little bunkers darted all throughout, almost like a colosseum with roofing for each layer. The outside sky was blue, with small white clumps called 'clouds' floating around. To many, it was the first time they could see the sky in such vivid detail. Hangars 7 and 8 were also announced, before the main speaker of the event continued.
"The first test will be the suits! Each mole that has designed a suit, please put it on and demonstrate it to the crowd!"
And each mole did. Thomas stared at Freddie who put on his own suit after a brief struggle. Walking out onto a designated area for suit testing, each mole had to show the suits they made and their abilities. Though nothing particularly remarkable happened, the suits were of various peculiar colours and designs. Hangar 2's suit was very futuristic and had glowing parts, but was heavy, preventing the tester, Gerald, from moving at a pace faster than a slug's. Hangar 8's was the most memorable, featuring in-built wheels and a remote crane for picking up debris, however the contest ruled out it was too similar to a rover, deducting 2 points. As per Freddie's suit - well, it finished around in the middle of the road. Not too shabby.
Freddie was very happy on the return, a small grin visible through his visor. Next were the rovers.
"The second test will be the rovers! Each mole that has designed a rover, please drive out onto the main testing chamber!"
Thomas' stomach dropped, but he followed through regardless. The lacking torque switch didn't appear to be an issue, as he made it to his station relatively quickly. Two rovers to the sides of him in hangar 5 and 7 barely started, with the first one's rover malfunctioning even before being able to reach the starting pad. Judges, who were placed at the east side of the arena in their own little bunker, meticulously jotted down notes, preparing to grade the upcoming performances.
The tests were simple, and were categorised in three main parts. These were manoeuvrability, fuel efficiency, and multi-terrain abilities. For the first category, each rover was tested on how well it could meander through an obstacle course set in front of it. The second is based on how well its fuel reserves do after clearing the first obstacle course. And the last test is to do with whether or not the rover gets stuck whilst traversing.
The first rover passed through after a very long slog with a couple of needed rescues from falling into smaller pits, the second much faster (though with double the amount of needed rescues), and the third and fourth passed through well. The fifth rover, the one that refused to start, managed to roar past, breaking the Mole Record of 28.4 mole seconds with a stunning showing of 26.1 seconds (though with much to show in terms of damage on its bodywork). Thomas' rover passed through gently, though quite slowly. However, the fact that not a single piece of debris or refuse hit the bodywork, which was frankly as stable as paper-mâché, and that the rover required no assistance dislodging itself from loose mud or smaller pits, was something that even the commentator had to pick up on. It was an incredible driving performance by the nerve-wrecked mole, who remained intently focused on each passing yard of the course. The seventh and eighth passed through as well, with the latter making use of the small crane to move bits and pieces around it out of its way, which came to the enjoyment of the crowd and the judges.
"Now, the third and final test - team co-ordination! As part of a team, each mole is to work together to pass an obstacle course and collect as many rocks as possible, safely returning them to the end of the course. This will be timed, with the fastest and most efficient team winning! Everyone, get ready!"
The cars were quickly re-positioned with the help of the drivers and crew, forming a neat row of cars with their own long trench to drive through. Each one was fashioned as similarly as possible to the others, featuring a section of mud, a dry bumpy section, a section of tall grass, and lastly a large hill to climb over. Each section also had rocks of various sizes scattered across, intending to be picked up in a fast and discrete manner.
Each suited mole hurriedly jumps on their teammates' rovers, holding on as they begin the first and final assessment. Freddie jumps onto Thomas' rover, just about managing to say 'good job', before the announcer started the countdown.
"3… 2… 1!"
And once again, intense action. This time, the discordant nature of all eight hangars' contestants partaking all at once provided much more entertainment than scientific value. The judges, seen at the distant part of the arena, were writing things even faster; some ambidextrous ones writing down on two pieces of bark at once.
Thomas passed through the mud with no problem, with Freddie relentlessly jumping on and off the rover, collecting small pebbles that fit nicely in his suit. Though focused on helping Freddie with the task at hand, Thomas couldn't help but peer over at the other tracks and how the others were doing. Contestants from hangars 5 and 7 appeared to be just behind Freddie and Thomas, whilst in the distance, hangar 2 was roaring past, though not collecting many pebbles. An interesting plan if anything, Thomas thought. After collecting most of the pebbles in the track, the rover trudged on, though quite slowly. The lack of speed was the last of the group's concerns, however, as the contests from hangar 8 accelerated too quickly over the bumpy section, causing their rover to flip. Despite a large "ooh" of fear from the crowd, the commentator quickly confirmed that both moles were alright, and that crew staff were on their way to help them flip their vehicle around.
The bumpy section was incredibly awkward. Though the rover's wheels were sturdy, each bump caused a new issue with steering, and as much as Thomas tried, the car was reduced to a sloth's crawl. Freddie was hard at work collecting little fragments of stone across the course, detached from the worry of the vehicle's speed. As long as the car drove, Thomas thought, it should be fine.
As engines roared around him, Freddie climbed back onto the rover with Thomas' help, emptying the compartment of his suit of its rocky contents. The bump ride caused a couple of pebbles to fall off, but the group couldn't afford to go back and collect them. Next was the tall grass, which stood in a menacing manner, akin to that of a beachgoer viewing an approaching tsunami. Wading through the flora, round balls of granite were placed all throughout, seemingly a test for the suited moles and how well their suit could help them spot hidden parts. Noticing a few rovers slow down in the distance, the third hangar's vehicle had completely run out of fuel, putting a premature end to the group's endeavours. Freddie's suit was holding on fine, however its pocket compartment wasn't built for spherical objects, and as he went back to climb onto the rover, a few slipped out and rolled off. But stalling was the last thing they wanted to do, and so they went on.
Now, the last hill. This was going to be the hardest part.
The rover's little engine tried, and though it climbed at a steady pace, the uneven hill made it a difficult climb, and as the mole seconds turned into a mole minute and even two, a couple other racers caught up and out-sped Thomas' rover. Freddie looked on in disappointment, though refused to speak up as to not frustrate Thomas. By the time the peak of the hill was reached, Thomas stalled the vehicle, and changed some settings around.
"What are you doing?", asked a worried Freddie.
Thomas grinned, responding: "Well, remember those last-minute adjustments?"
Freddie nodded, looking at Thomas' paw, hovering over an unflipped switch. Was it some sort of speed boost? No, that couldn't be; he would've used it earlier in the course. What was this?
Freddie decided not to ask, and nodded at Thomas, who just before reaching the end of the hill's other side, looked back at Freddie. "I've realised, sometimes less speed is better."
The car started to tip over the edge. Just as it did, Freddie flipped the switch, and all of a sudden, instead of roaring down the hill uncontrollably, the car began to travel at a manageable pace. A small protruding bit of metal sticking from under the car was cutting into the ground beneath, letting the rover crawl down the hill. The other rovers, however?
Almost in synchronised fashion, each one tumbles down the hill, rolling around and causing a panic. The crowd wince in pain each time a rover meets its untimely doom rolling down the cliff. Once again, the crew staff and commentator are there to reassure there have been no injuries, but the mess of the scene left little to be optimistic about. Moles crawled from under their rovers canopies, scattered around, and though lightly injured, nothing too critical. Regardless, a few mole stretcher teams ran out onto the scene adding even more to the discord, stretchering off a few moles that found themselves particularly bruised by the ordeal. Meanwhile, whilst all of this was taking place, Freddie and Thomas were seen near the top of the hill, slowly making their way down. After a few mole minutes, the rover had safely made it to the end of the track. Though the audience wasn't particularly captivated by this gradual descent, Freddie was ecstatic, unable to control his pride in Thomas, patting him on the back a couple of times and shouting generic words of amazement.
"And now, the last group to make it, from hangar 6; Freddie and Thomas. They certainly won't be winning by the time criteria any time soon!", the commentator quipped.
After a routine medical check to ensure all of the mole contestants were okay to continue, they were ushered inside. Whilst they were discussing how the tournament went, the outside crowd was briefly entertained by a charismatic speech from Paul Clawsby, the tournament organiser and the vice chairman of the Mole Institute of Progress. Though he was a prominent figure, the adrenaline from the race left many moles disinterested in the address, prioritising conversing with their accompanying teammates.
"That was awesome!", said Freddie, likely for the fifth time.
"You know, I thought to myself speed may be an issue. But I also considered that being too quick could've also caused some problems.", responded Thomas, hunching over.
A fellow mole from hangar 3 went up to Thomas from across the corridor, congratulating him briefly, before mentioning: "You're not worried about how you'll finish with the speed score?"
"Well, speed score. That's important, yeah. But we most of our pebbles in place. That's another important thing. And fuel."
The mole rolled his eyes. "Lessons for the next tournament. Despite needing an emergency re-fuel, we did finish second, with our rover mostly in-tact. Hopefully it's enough."
Before Thomas responded, the mole clawbumped Freddie and waddled off, going to talk to the other contestants. For now, Thomas wanted to rest and fully comprehend everything that happened.
"No time to rest, unfortunately. Paul is finishing his speech soon. We'll have to be out in a couple mole minutes."
Did Thomas care? Not really. He rested either way. The day was his, afterall.
Freddie briefly wandered around, catching up with some of his mechanic buddies, before an announcement on the internal microphones rang: "Contestants! Please make your way out onto the chamber again."
As they emerged from the room, they saw the fields almost fully cleared, aside from the hills, which were still being worked on by around 30 worker moles, though they were in a short enough state where all parts of the crowd could see the podium area, so the event continued.
"And now, to present the third place, second place, and first place of the Mole Terrestrial Equipment Construction Tournament! Each of these moles has contributed greatly to future mole technologies, and we are all ought to be grateful!"
A short cheer roared across the arena.
"In third place, hangar 3! Scoring second in time and third in pebbles collected, an incredible showing! Congratulations!"
They stood up onto the podium in third place, receiving their bronze medals along with dandelion flower heads.
"In second place, hangar 8! Scoring first in time and second in pebbles collected. Magnificent performance!"
The team looked shocked that they had only gotten second, but dared not to hesitate, and stepped onto the podium, receiving their little small medallions as well as their dandelion flower heads.
"And in first place. Despite finishing last in time, the team had an incredible efficiency rating, and had collected over 40 pebbles! Hangar 6!"
The crowd roared. Thomas and Freddie froze in place, unable to move. They could only begin to walk a few mole seconds after being ushered by on-site pit crew members to the podium.
The moles received their gold medals and dandelion heads, and a special trophy proclaiming their victory.
"Congratulations, Freddie Digson and Tommy Tunnelworth! Do you have any words to tell to the crowd?"
Hastily given a small microphone, Freddie thanked everyone for coming, and passed the microphone onto Thomas.
"Yes, thank you, everyone. But just one thing - It's not Tommy! It's Thomas!"
The crowd loved the sudden shift in focus, and stood up to applaud the victorious engineer. Just as they did, a shadow loomed over the arena.
"My word! The big celestial beings are here! Praise to be!"
Everyone in the arena went quiet as a suited man gently picked up Thomas, viewing the suited mole in his hand.
Everyone in the arena went dead silent.
"Thomas, is it?", the great being said.
The mole nodded shyly, followed by a muffled chuckle from the man. Looking to a couple scientists stationed nearby, he says with a smile:
"They learn quick, don't they?"