Chapter 8
Priya
Home? How dare he use that word after last night?
The Wraith cleared the moon’s shadow under minimum power. Ahead, the transit lane command had marked safe looked empty. Black space. No orbital traffic. No active sensors. No scans. No drones.
Vesh’s display flashed red. Three Scythe interceptors powered up directly in front of us. They had been sitting dark in the exact lane we were assigned to use, weapons charged and pointed at us. Waiting. Like they fucking knew we were coming.
“Contact!” Vesh snapped. “Three interceptors. Weapons hot.”
“I see them.”
“They were not on passive sensors.”
“Because they were waiting for us.”
The lead Scythe fired. I rolled the Wraith hard enough to slam my shoulder against the harness. White energy ripped past the canopy where my head had been. The second interceptor split high. The third dropped below our flight plane and held there. “Third one’s waiting to cut off our escape.”
“Yes. Break left.”
I broke right. The Scythe interceptor above us fired into empty space.
“You ignored me,” Vesh said.
I had. But I had a good reason. "Three ships, one target. High ship pushes us low. You told me to go left because it was the logical route. They knew that, too.”
The Wraith was not built for battle. She was fast, nearly invisible, and lightly armed.
None of that would save us once the enemy could see us.
The three Scythes spread out and boxed us in with the moon at our back.
Vesh’s hands moved over the sensor station.
“Lead ship is painting us. Missile lock in four seconds.”
“Countermeasures?”
“Limited.”
“That’s not a number.”
“Two bursts.”
“Save them.”
“Missile lock in two.”
I drove straight at the lead interceptor. Vesh did not question me. He transferred the forward camera to my display and shifted our remaining weapon to manual control. The Scythe grew from a point of red light to a black wedge filling half the canopy.
“Priya.”
“Not yet.”
“One second.”
The interceptor fired.
“Now.”
Vesh released one countermeasure burst as I rolled beneath the missile, dodging the attack.
The projectile followed the false signal and curved across our stern.
I yanked the Wraith vertical. The lead Scythe flashed past beneath us.
Its own missile struck the ship coming down from high position.
The explosion filled the tactical display.
“One damaged,” Vesh said. “Still flying.”
“Rude.”
The Wraith shuddered as energy fire clipped our aft shielding.
“Shield at sixty percent,” Vesh said. “Second ship turning. Third still holding low.”
“He’s blocking us so we can't get to the moon.”
“Correct.”
“Then he thinks that’s where we’re going.”
“It's where we should go.”
“We need to convince him we disagree.” I pointed the Wraith toward open space and pushed both engines to full power.
The interceptors followed. Weapons' fire crossed behind us in rapid white streaks.
I flew on instinct, moving before openings appeared, flying through the gaps a fraction of a second ahead of the shots.
I dropped the nose and put us into a dive. The canopy flashed white overhead.
“Missile from starboard.”
“I need the second burst.”
“Released.”
The Wraith kicked as the countermeasure fired. The missile curved away and detonated close enough to rattle every panel in the cockpit. Warning lights filled my display. “What did we lose?”
“Aft shielding. Sensor range reduced by half.”
“Weapons?”
“One forward round.”
“One?”
“Would you prefer none?”
“Saving my gratitude for later.”
The lead Scythe closed behind us. The damaged ship fell back, but the third had moved to intercept our route toward open space. Exactly where I wanted it.
“Give me a flight path directly toward that moon,” I said.
Vesh marked the vector on my display without hesitation.
I cut the port engine, spun the Wraith end over end, and fired it again as our nose came around.
We reversed direction so fast my vision narrowed.
The lead Scythe overshot. The third fired.
The round hit our starboard wing. The sound came through the hull with a deep metallic rumble that shook my teeth and punched the controls out of my hands.
The right side of the Wraith dropped. We began to spin.
“Starboard engine gone,” Vesh said. “Attitude jets two, four, and six not responding. Hull breach in the aft compartment.”
The moon rolled across the canopy. Black rock. Red sky. Black rock again. I caught the controls and fought the spin.
“Seal the compartment.” I'd flown a dozen missions like this in the video game, but my pulse had never pounded this hard. My heart actually hurt, but I showed none of it. I had Vesh's life in my hands, and I wasn't about to lose him like this.
“Done.”
“Can you give me anything on the right?”
“No engine. One attitude jet, intermittent.”
“I’ll take intermittent.”
Vesh rerouted power. The dead side of the ship coughed once. The spin slowed enough for me to find the horizon. The three interceptors turned toward us.
“We can't outrun them,” Vesh said.
“Then find me someplace they won’t follow.”
He pulled up the lunar map. “Debris ring. Twelve degrees below our current line. Dense rock, unstable orbits.”
“Ships always lose the bad guys by flying into an asteroid belt. Sounds perfect.”
“It is lethal.”
“That's what they always say in the movies, too.”
“The Wraith will not maneuver through that field on one engine. Our odds of survival—”
I laughed, interrupting him with my best Han Solo impersonation. "Never tell me the odds."
"It's suicide."
“So is trying to fight our way out of this. The ship will make it if we help her. Take manual control of the remaining starboard jet. Fire only when I call it.”
“Priya—”
“I'm Starfighter pilot, remember? Let me do my job.”
His jaw set. “Jet ready.”
I aimed us at the debris ring. Chunks of the moon tumbled through the black ahead.
Some were no larger than my fist. Others could have crushed an aircraft carrier.
There was no clear path, only openings that appeared and vanished as the field moved.
The interceptors fired again. I dropped the Wraith into the rocks.
“Jet,” I said.
Vesh fired it. Our dead wing lifted just enough to clear a spinning slab of stone.
“Hold.”
A boulder crossed the canopy so close I saw deep impact scars on its surface.
“Now. Two seconds.”
The starboard jet sputtered. The Wraith lurched sideways between two converging rocks. Energy fire struck the debris behind us. Stone exploded across our hull.
“First interceptor entering the field,” Vesh said.
“Stupid.”
“It wants us dead.”
“It can eat a rock.” I slipped behind a rotating fragment and cut our engine. The Wraith disappeared against its shadow. The interceptor followed our route. Vesh tracked it on passive sensors.
“Three seconds,” he said. “Two. One.”
I fired the port engine at full power. We shot beneath the interceptor as it passed. The pilot tried to turn. Its wing caught the rock I’d used for cover. The Scythe spun away trailing debris.
“Not destroyed,” Vesh said.
“You are impossible to impress.”
“I am extremely impressed. I am also accurate.”
The remaining two ships stopped at the edge of the debris ring. They fired several blind shots, then moved into position to fire on us the moment we left the debris field.
“They’re waiting us out,” I said.
“Our core will fail first.”
“Then we’re not going back out. Find me a landing site.”
“The moon has no atmosphere.”
“This ship doesn't have wings.”
“You have one engine and almost no maneuvering control.”
“I’m aware of the equipment list. Landing site?”
Vesh searched the surface below us. “There. A narrow plain beyond the ridge. Four kilometers.”
“Slope?”
“Six degrees. Crater field at the far end.”
“Any good news?”
“The surface will not actively shoot at us.”
“I’ll take it.”
I guided the Wraith deeper into the field, using the rock to hide our descent.
Gravity was weak, but not weak enough. The ship wanted to roll toward the missing engine.
Every correction from the remaining jet made the controls shake.
The landing site appeared on my display.
Too short. Too rough. The ridge at the near end rose higher than Vesh’s first scan had shown.
“We need more altitude,” he said.
“We don’t have it.”
“We are going to hit that ridge.”
“I know.” I increased power to the port engine. The Wraith rolled toward the dead side.
“Starboard jet,” I said.
“It may not fire again.”
“Ask nicely.”
Vesh hit the control. Nothing. The ridge rushed toward us.
“Again.”
The jet coughed. Once. The Wraith lifted barely enough. Black rock scraped beneath the damaged wing with a scream that traveled through the frame. We cleared the ridge. The plain dropped away in front of us.
The engine fired. I pulled the nose up. The Wraith hit the surface on her belly and bounced. The second impact tore something loose behind us. The cockpit filled with alarms. We slid sideways across black rock.
“Crater ahead,” Vesh said.
“I see it.”
I fired the engine one last time and turned the slide.
The Wraith spun past the crater’s edge, struck a low outcropping, and stopped hard enough to drive the harness into my ribs.
Silence. Then the tick of cooling metal.
I kept both hands on the controls and waited for the ground to move again. It did not.
“Priya?”
“I’m here.”
“Injuries?”
Everything hurt. “Nothing important. You?”
“I am fine.”
I turned. Blood ran from a shallow slice near his hairline. His eyes were clear. His hands were already moving over the display, assessing the damage. “Then why are you bleeding?”
“A minor cut. Hull pressure falling,” he said. “Slowly. Core at eighteen percent. Starboard section sealed. Life support operational for now.”
I released the controls. My fingers shook the second they were no longer busy. “We landed.”
Vesh looked at me. “You landed,” he said. “On one engine, with no starboard control, under fire.”
“Controlled crash.”
“Tavik could not have done it. I could not have done it.”
Vesh did not give compliments to make people feel better. Hearing those words from him hit harder and hurt me more than the crash landing.
My throat tightened. Very inconvenient. I unfastened my harness and reached for the cut on his forehead. He caught my hand and pressed his mouth to my palm. One brief kiss. Then he put my hand against his chest and covered it with his. His heart was beating as hard as mine.
“They knew our route,” I said.
His expression changed. “Yes.”
“That wasn't a random patrol. They were powered down and waiting for us before we cleared the moon.”
“The same formation Tavik and I encountered. The same type of corridor.”
“Somebody gave them both flight plans.”
“Someone in command,” he said. “Someone with access to scout operations.”
The conclusion settled between us, ugly and obvious. “There’s a traitor back at base?"
“Yes.”
“And they know we’re carrying the information on their shipyard and production.”
“If the interceptors survived, they will report our position. They'll come looking for us.”
“Can we transmit to Arturri?” I asked.
“Not without giving the Dark Fleet our exact position. We also do not know who would receive it.”
I looked through the cracked canopy. The red sun was dropping behind the horizon.
Beyond the glass, the moon was black rock and long shadows.
No air. No help. The cockpit temperature had already begun to fall.
We would freeze to death within minutes if the ship's power failed completely.
“How long will the power in the core last?”
Vesh checked the numbers. “Until dawn, if we shut down everything nonessential.”
“And after dawn?”
“We repair enough to launch, or we die here.”
At least he didn’t soften it. I squeezed his hand. “Then let’s not die here.”
“Agreed.”
The last edge of red sunlight disappeared. Cold moved through the damaged hull almost immediately. Finding the traitor would have to wait. First, we had to survive the night.