Chapter 5 #2
We plunged into the asteroid field at a speed no sane pilot would attempt. Rocks tumbled past, some small as fists, others massive as buildings. I threaded through gaps that shouldn't exist, relying on instinct and spatial awareness and pure desperation.
The raider ships followed. Smaller, more agile, better armed.
But they didn't know these asteroids like I was learning them, didn't understand that I'd spent six months maintaining a ship that moved through space at speeds that made normal flight look like standing still.
I'd learned to think in three dimensions, to see trajectories before they happened, to trust my instincts when logic said something was impossible.
"Incoming," Vaxon warned. "Port side, high angle."
I dove beneath a tumbling asteroid, felt the raider's weapons fire scorch past overhead. The asteroid took the hit instead, fracturing into smaller pieces that scattered like deadly confetti.
"Use that," I said. "The asteroids. Can you target them to create obstacles?"
Vaxon's markings flared bright. "Tactical asteroid deployment. Clever."
He opened fire on strategic targets, not the raider ships directly, but the rocks around them. Asteroids shattered, creating clouds of debris that forced the raiders to adjust course, slowed their pursuit, and bought us precious seconds.
But seconds weren't enough. The raiders were still gaining, still firing, and our damaged shuttle couldn't maintain this pace indefinitely. I could feel the engines failing, power fluctuations getting worse, systems approaching catastrophic cascade.
"Vaxon," I said quietly. "I don't think we're going to make it."
"Yes, we are." He said it with such absolute certainty that I almost believed him. "Trust me, Elena. We're getting out of this."
"How? I'm out of tricks. The ship's falling apart. They're faster than us, better armed, and there's three of them."
He reached over, wrapped one massive hand around mine on the controls. The gesture should have been distracting. Instead, it steadied me. Grounded me.
"You're forgetting something," he said. "You're the most brilliant electrical engineer I've ever seen. And I'm very good at fighting. Together, we're considerably more dangerous than three raider ships expect."
His absolute faith in me was terrifying and exhilarating and completely insane. I loved it.
"Okay," I said. "Okay. What do you need me to do?"
"Can you reroute all remaining power to weapons? Everything except life support and minimal thrusters?"
I pulled up the systems architecture, saw what he was planning. "That'll leave us nearly dead in space. One more hit and we're done."
"Then don't let them hit us. Can you do it?"
"Give me thirty seconds."
I worked while flying, my hands splitting attention between the controls and the power management systems. It was stupid and reckless and probably suicidal, but then again, that described my entire approach to living lately.
Power flowed from engines to weapons. The shuttle slowed, becoming an easier target. But the weapons array lit up like nothing Liberty-class ships were ever designed to support, enough firepower to punch through raider shields in one sustained burst.
"Ready," I announced. "But Vaxon, we get one shot at this. Miss, and we're sitting ducks."
"I don't miss." He adjusted targeting parameters, calculated firing solutions with the same cold precision he'd shown fighting. "On my mark, full stop. All power to weapons."
The raiders closed in, sensing victory. They formed up in attack formation, preparing to finish us.
"Now."
I killed the thrusters. We hung motionless in space, surrounded by tumbling asteroids, completely vulnerable. The perfect target.
The raiders opened fire.
Vaxon opened fire first.
The shuttle's entire weapons array discharged in one massive, coordinated burst—the kind of sustained firepower that should have been impossible from a ship this small, that only worked because I'd rerouted every available system and pushed the conduits beyond rated capacity and probably shortened the shuttle's operational lifetime by years.
The energy beam caught the lead raider ship dead center. Shields collapsed. Hull breached. The ship shattered in a brilliant explosion that lit up the asteroid field like a miniature star.
The second raider broke formation, tried to evade. Too slow. Vaxon tracked it with inhuman precision, a second burst catching its engines. The ship spun out of control, crashed into an asteroid, and exploded on impact.
The third raider turned and ran.
Vaxon didn't pursue. Just sat back in the co-pilot's seat, markings pulsing with satisfaction, and said: "Told you we'd make it."
I stared at him. At the tactical displays showing scattered debris where three raider ships used to be. At the power readouts that showed we had approximately forty-seven seconds of life support remaining before the jury-rigged systems failed completely.
Then I started laughing. Couldn't help it. The hysterical, exhausted, we're-somehow-alive laughter of someone who'd just survived something that should have killed them.
"You're insane," I managed between gasps. "Completely, absolutely insane."
"Says the woman who flew through an asteroid field in a damaged shuttle with no shields."
"You told me to!"
"And you did it brilliantly." He squeezed my hand, still wrapped around the controls. "Elena. Breathe. We're safe."
I breathed. Tried to, anyway. My chest felt too tight, adrenaline crash hitting hard now that the immediate danger had passed. We'd done it. Survived raiders and derelicts and impossible odds. Rescued Will and Lisa. Lived through another day that should have been our last.
"Mothership, this is Rescue Seven," Vaxon said into the comm. "Mission successful. Requesting emergency docking procedures. We're running on reserve power."
Captain Tor'van's voice came through immediately. "Copy that, Rescue Seven. Docking bay three is prepped and ready. Medical team standing by. Well done, both of you."
The return flight took eighteen minutes that felt like hours. I nursed the failing shuttle through space, coaxing damaged systems to hold together just a little longer. Vaxon monitored our trajectory, ready to take manual control if anything else failed.
Behind us, in the cargo bay, Will and Lisa remained stable in their stasis pods. Alive. Against all odds, alive.
Because of Will. Because he'd chosen to sacrifice himself so they could survive. Because he'd counted on someone finding them, even when hope seemed impossible.
Tell her to live. That's an order.
I would. Somehow, I'd find a way to actually live instead of just surviving. To honor his sacrifice by building something good from this wreckage.
But first, I had to land this dying shuttle without killing everyone aboard.
"Elena." Vaxon's voice pulled me back from the edge of another spiral. "Landing vector?"
"Calculating." I adjusted our approach, compensating for the sluggish controls. "It's going to be rough. Tell everyone to brace."
He relayed the warning. Then, quietly, just for me: "You can do this."
"How do you know?"
"Because you've been doing impossible things since the moment you stepped aboard Mothership. One more won't kill you."
The docking bay loomed ahead, massive doors open, emergency lights guiding us in. I could see the medical team assembled, emergency crews standing ready. Dana was there too, I realized. And Jalina. And Bea. My friends, waiting to pull me out of yet another disaster I'd survived.
The shuttle hit the deck hard. Too hard. Landing gear groaned, structural integrity warnings screaming, but we were down. Down and stopped and alive.
"Everyone out," Vaxon ordered. "Medical priority—get those stasis pods to the surgical suite. Elena, you okay to walk?"
I released the controls with shaking hands. "Define okay."
He unstrapped, moved to my side, and offered a hand. I took it. Let him pull me up, steady me when my legs decided they weren't sure about supporting my weight anymore.
"I've got you," he said simply.
Yeah. He did. And that terrified me more than the raiders ever had.