The fighter’s shield went down right as I arrived. The alien fighter should have powered down immediately, but they kept on flying, trying to dodge behind a larger asteroid. Their weapons—a full six destructor turrets—fired at the Krell.
It was strange to see that many turrets on a fighter, but who knew how alien tactics worked? Perhaps they had rudimentary targeting AIs to fire weapons while the living pilot focused only on flying. Rodge had drawn up some whimsical designs along those lines, and the DDF had found them promising.
In any case, the ship was in trouble, so I did what I did best. I drew attention.
I ripped right through the center of the Krell ships and hit my IMP, blasting away both my shield and theirs. A desperate, dangerous move—but the only way to put them on the defensive and level the odds.
I spun my ship on its axis, then shot a spray of destructor fire—more a wild attempt to scatter pursuers than to really hit anything. I had to quickly spin around, because flying backward was a great way to get yourself exploded.
I picked up some tails—but not as many as I’d hoped—and led these around in another sweep, dodging fire while shooting my own destructors. I hit one of the drones, which fortunately sent the others into defensive postures.
“Oh!” M-Bot said. “We’re being heroes.”
“Sometimes I really doubt how fast you claim to be able to think,” I said to him.
“It’s only when you do something that doesn’t make sense,” he said. “I should have expected this. But . . . aren’t all of these aliens technically part of the Superiority—the people who are trying to destroy us?”
“Depends on the context,” I said. “Right now, those other pilots are on our side: the side of people trying not to die.”
I swerved back in, and fortunately the beleaguered ship took the opportunity I’d offered. Its turrets locked onto the unshielded Krell and blew two of them out of the sky.
Nice shooting, whoever you are, I thought. Hopefully they would see what I was doing as I drove a few more ships off their back. My job wasn’t to rack up kills, but to keep the enemy on the defensive.
A Krell ship exploded just to my right. My strategy would be effective only as long as the Krell didn’t realize they should ignore me and bring down the larger fighter while it was vulnerable. Fortunately, as a third drone exploded, the others buzzed away. This battle really was different from the ones I’d engaged in over Detritus—these drones weren’t at all interested in destroying the skillful ships.
I fell in beside my new friend, and relaxed a little as a fresh shield ignited around them. I did likewise, bringing my defenses back up.
“We have a call from an unfamiliar channel,” M-Bot said. “I assume it’s the ship we saved. Shall I patch it through?”
“Yes indeed.”
The channel opened to . . . cheering? Dozens of voices celebrating. But I’d only saved one ship, presumably with a single pilot.
“Brave warriors,” said a deep masculine voice, “we are in your debt. This day, you have saved the kitsen flagship from annihilation.”
“Flagship?” I asked. Then understanding hit me. That ship isn’t much larger than M-Bot, but if the pilots are very small . . .
“It’s you!” I said. “The king of the fox-gerbils!”
“I do not know what a fox-gerbil is,” the voice said. “But . . . you must mistake me, of course. I am Hesho—and I am no king, since our planet has an equitable representative government. However, as the humble poet and captain of the starship Gaualako-An, I thank you from the deepest well of my heart.”
I hit the mute button. “M-Bot, I think these must be the samurai fox-gerbils I saw earlier.”
“You mean the kitsen?” he said. “They’re a Superiority race with secondary citizenship. Oh! You’ll find this amusing. I just translated the name of their ship. In their language, it roughly means, ‘Big Enough to Kill You.’ ”
“A ship the size of a fighter must be like a destroyer to them,” I said. “We didn’t just rescue a single pilot; we rescued an entire crew.” I flipped off the mute button. “Captain Hesho, my name is Alanik—and I’m glad to meet you. How would you feel about working together? There’s too much chaos going on in this battle. We need to form an organized resistance.”
“An excellent idea,” Hesho said. “Like a steady rain that becomes a storm, the Big Enough is at your disposal.”
“Great. Keep your guns trained to fire on any drones that draw close. If we get into trouble, I’ll try to distract them from you so you can play target practice.”
“If I might make a suggestion,” Hesho replied. “We should rescue another faster ship, like yours, as it would help balance out our fledgling team.”
“Sounds great,” I said, scanning the battlefield, looking for faster ships we could try to recruit. One immediately jumped out at me—the black ship that held Brade, the human. It swerved through the melee, expertly pivoting around an asteroid. She was good. Very good.
“You see that black ship at my mark 238.25?” I said to Hesho. “I’ll go try to help them out and see if they will join us. You hold steady and call me if any drones target you.”
“Excellent,” Hesho said.
I boosted after the black ship, darting through the chaotic fracas of light and explosions. The ship had two Krell tailing it. I radioed Brade, and the comm light lit up, indicating she was listening.
“I’ll get those tails,” I said. “Just give me—”
The black ship suddenly launched a light-lance into a passing friendly ship. I was shocked, both to see a light-lance being used from a Krell ship, and to see how it used the momentum of pivoting around a friendly ship. The callous move sent the poor unsuspecting ship spinning to the side—where it bounced against an asteroid. The move let Brade perform an expert turn, however, and she dove back through the center of the drones, blasting them both into space dust. She then buzzed past my ship, missing me by centimeters.
I cursed, spinning on my axis, then boosting to try going after her. That had been an incredible move. She had serious flying experience.
“Hey!” I called. “We’re forming up a flight. We could use your . . .”
The black ship tore away to the right, vanishing farther into the battle, ignoring me completely. I sighed.
“Spensa,” M-Bot said, “I think maybe she doesn’t want to join our team.”
“What made you think that?”
“I’m very observant,” M-Bot said. “However, I believe someone else could use your help. I’m reading distress calls on a general outgoing line. Here, I’m highlighting the source on your proximity monitor and patching it through.”
At once a panicked voice piped through my radio, and my pin translated for me. “My boosters aren’t responding! Help!”
“Send Hesho those coordinates,” I said to M-Bot, spinning on my axis and boosting the other way to slow down. Then I darted toward the distress call—which turned out to be the shuttle that Brade had used as a counterweight.
After colliding with the asteroid, the shuttle had bounced free and now tumbled through space with one of its boosters flashing on and off randomly. It would spurt in one direction, and then the booster would cut out. It would try to turn, but the booster would cut back on erratically, sending the ship tumbling in a different direction.
Three Krell, eager to prey on the weak, were coming in from different directions. “Hang on,” I told the pilot as Hesho’s ship—thankfully—arrived and began gunning at the various nearby Krell.
“Calculating . . . ,” M-Bot said, highlighting a section of my canopy. “Here is a projected flight path of the damaged ship.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I thought that booster was blasting it around randomly.”
“Few things are truly random,” M-Bot said.
I used the projection to intercept the malfunctioning ship and spear it with my light-lance. I boosted to the left, narrowly towing it out of the path of Krell destructor fire. Unfortunately, the ship’s broken booster immediately ignited, yanking me back to the right.
“I’m sorry!” the pilot’s voice said. I saw a glimpse of them through the front of their ship—it was the single dione in the fight, the one with a two-tone face.
“Maybe you should just power down,” I said with a grunt, trying to regain control. “Turn on your emergency lights and drop out of the fight.”
“I can’t,” the voice said.
“There’s no shame in it,” I said. “You’re not a coward.”
“No,” the voice said. “I mean . . . the collision seems to have crushed my emergency lights.”
Scud. Maybe the pilots of the remote drones would see that this pilot was obviously in trouble, and leave them alone? No . . . if anything, there were more drones approaching than I would have expected. Almost as if they wanted to punish this dione who had been so brash as to participate in an activity that should have been reserved for inferiors.
I pulled the shuttle out of the way of another destructor barrage, then grunted as its booster ignited again, towing me back. I tried to compensate by using M-Bot’s projections on my canopy, but my efforts weren’t terribly effective.
“Please,” the pilot said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you into this. Leave me to my fate. It is what I deserve.”
“Like hell,” I said, grunting again and trying to steer as the malfunctioning booster cut out. While it was down, I towed the craft toward Hesho’s flagship—which was firing with increased desperation at the nearby drones.
“Spensa,” M-Bot said. “That last turn you made let my cameras get a glimpse at the ship’s boosters. There’s a chunk of stone lodged in the left one’s expression valve. Getting that free might fix the problem, as the booster is locked into a loop, trying to fire up—then finding the obstruction and triggering an emergency power-down.”
“All right,” I said. “Let me just crawl out and fix it then.”
“Ha ha. You’d die!”
I grinned, getting ready for the booster to ignite again.
“That . . . was sarcasm, right?” M-Bot said. “Just checking. Because I don’t think you actually want to leave your ship. Explosive decompression would—”
“It was a joke,” I said, then cursed as the booster on the broken ship ignited again. Unfortunately, I couldn’t count on Hesho for help. The larger, slower fighter had its hands full holding off four drones.
“Open a general line,” I said to M-Bot. “I think I’m going to need another ship to pull this off.” A light on my comm blinked on. “This is a general distress call,” I said. “I need a ship with a light-lance to help me at . . . coordinates 150.+60.554 from reference beacon 34.”
I was met by silence. The battlefield had emptied a little, as many of the prospective pilots had given up. The ones remaining were those skilled enough to survive—though many flew unarmed personal crafts, and focused only on dodging and staying ahead of the drones.
In that, it seemed the test had been effective. It had quickly identified those who could fly under pressure. The debris of destroyed ships indicated, however, that the cost had been brutal.
“Leave me,” the dione pilot said again. “I’m sorry. My trouble is not your trouble.”
I eyed the Krell drones that were lurking nearby. “Hold on a sec,” I said, then disengaged my light-lance. Suddenly free and unencumbered, I swooped around and started firing on the drones. I scored a couple of hits, but their shields were still up—so all I did was send them into basic defensive maneuvers.
“I could really use some help,” I said over the general line. “Please. Anyone.”
“Well . . . ,” a breezy, feminine voice said. “Do you promise not to shoot me?”
“Yes, of course!” I said. “Why would I shoot you?”
“Um . . .” A ship hovered out from behind a nearby asteroid.
A Krell drone! I put my finger on the trigger, turning my ship toward it and aiming quickly.
“You said you wouldn’t shoot me!” the voice said.
Wait. The drone was talking to me?
“Oh!” M-Bot said. “Ask her if she’s an AI!”
“Are you an AI?” I asked over the line.
“No, of course not!” the voice said. “But I’m willing to help. What do you need?”
“Go chase those drones away from that disabled shuttle,” I said. “Give me a little breathing room to try some precise flying.”
“Very well,” the voice said.
The little drone boosted out from her hiding place and moved in. My dione friend in the shuttle let out a fatalistic “So it ends” as the talking drone got close—but the drone did as I’d asked, instead chasing away the enemy ships.
“All right,” I said. “M-Bot, highlight on my canopy that rock jammed into the shuttle’s booster. Then narrow my light-lance’s beam to the tightest possible setting.”
“Ooooohhhh,” he said. “Done.”
I used the break in fighting to get in just behind the shuttle, positioning myself carefully and waiting for the right moment. I wasn’t nearly as good a shot as Kimmalyn or Arturo—my specialties were flying fast and pulling stunts. Fortunately, M-Bot highlighted my target, and I had enough breathing room to sit and fine-tune my aim.
There. I picked out the rock as a brightly glowing speck of light rammed into the metal casing of the shuttle’s left booster. It was maybe the size of a person’s head.
I speared the stone with my light-lance, then I spun on my axis and boosted the other direction. The stone popped out with a jolt.
“I have control back!” the dione pilot said. “Booster is online again!”
“Great,” I said. “Follow me.”
The shuttle fell in behind me, flying in a blessedly straight line as we approached Hesho’s ship. The Krell there scattered as soon as we three formed up together; as I’d hoped, they weren’t interested in fighting organized flights of enemies. I lost track of the talking drone. I thought maybe she had gone back to hiding beside an asteroid.
“Captain Hesho,” I said, making a private comm line for the three of us, “I found us another ship.”
“Excellent, Captain Alanik,” Hesho said. “Newcomer, what are your armaments and specialties?”
“I . . . don’t have either,” the dione in the shuttle said. “My name is Morriumur.”
“A dione?” Hesho said, with obvious surprise in his voice. His ship turned, and likely he got a view of Morriumur sitting at the controls of their ship, behind the glass front. “Not just a dione, an unborn one at that. Curious.”
The three of us settled into a slow patrol, searching for any other ships we could help and invite into our flight. Morriumur wasn’t a terrible pilot—but they obviously didn’t have much combat experience, as they panicked every time they picked up a tail.
Still, they tried hard and managed to stick with me as I led a few Krell back toward the Big Enough, which shot them down with precision. The battle had started to spread out, individual ships seeking cover farther within the asteroid field. Krell roved in packs, but bursts of fire were growing more rare.
I invited a few more ships to join us, but they seemed too busy—consumed by their own flying—to stop. I spotted the black ship as it zipped past at one point, well outpacing the two drones trying to chase it down. Again, Brade ignored my offers.
“How much longer is this going to go on?” I demanded. “Don’t they have enough evidence yet?”
“Seven minutes remaining,” M-Bot said.
As we passed another patch of debris from a destroyed ship, I found my anger building. Yes, they’d warned that our training might be dangerous. But using live fire on civilian-class ships? I’d already had a simmering hatred for the Superiority, but this stoked it hotter. How could they have such callous disregard for life—all while feigning to be “civilized” and “intelligent”?
Finally, the end arrived. The drones turned as one and made their way back to the mining platform. Winzik’s voice came on the general line, and his voice sounded smug as he congratulated the survivors on their performance.
Hesho, Morriumur, and I headed back. About fifty other ships, it turned out, had survived the test. M-Bot did a quick count of the ones that had been towed back earlier, dropping out—and by combining those two numbers, then subtracting from the total, got a rough estimate of how many ships had been destroyed.
“Twelve ships destroyed,” he said.
Fewer than I’d expected—in the chaos, it had seemed like far more. Still, that was twelve people dead. Murdered by the Superiority.
Did you expect anything else? a part of me asked. You knew what they were capable of—they’ve been murdering humans for eighty years.
We landed our ships, though I did so on edge, half expecting some kind of trap or “surprise” second test. But none came. We settled down onto the platform safely, the artificial gravity locking our ships in place. The envelope of atmosphere provided fresh air as we popped open our cockpits.
Other surviving pilots looked rattled as they gathered back near the stage at the far end of the platform. Usually after a battle, I felt like many of these aliens looked—worn out, drained by the extreme amount of attention and focus that fighting required. Today though, I was livid as I climbed out and dropped to the floor of the platform.
What kind of idiots set up a test like this? I remembered how shocked I’d been to be sent into combat on my first day in training with the DDF, but even then Ironsides—who had been desperate to save her dying people—had only used us as a feint. Here, the Superiority was powerful, secure, and safe. Yet they threw away the lives of eager and trusting pilots?
I shoved my way through the crowd of aliens, moving toward Winzik and the other test administrators. I opened my mouth to—
“What the hell is wrong with you people!” a voice shouted right behind me.
I froze, the wind stolen from my own exclamation. I turned, surprised to see a hulking alien creature that looked vaguely like a gorilla. They held a large battle helmet under their arm, and pushed right past me in the crowd, pointing at Winzik.
“Live fire?” the gorilla alien shouted. “In a testing exercise? What you just did is the equivalent of murder. What in the name of the deepest void were you thinking?”
I shut my mouth at the exclamation, which seemed as furious—but twice as loud—as my own anger.
“You signed the release,” Winzik finally said, his hand held to his armored breast in a sign of aghast horror at the creature’s outburst.
“To the void with a release!” the alien shouted. “If I got a child to sign a release saying I could kick them, I’d still be a monster for doing it! These people didn’t know what they were getting themselves into! You bear the shame for this.”
Creatures of various shapes and sizes moved away from the gorilla, and the officials on the stage seemed completely flabbergasted. “We . . . we needed to see who would be calm under fire,” Winzik finally explained. “And we gave orders to our drone pilots not to harm those who backed down. My, my! Such aggression.”
“You should have used dummy rounds!” I said, stepping up beside the gorilla alien. “Like any sane military on exercises!”
“How would that have tested them?” Winzik asked me. “They’d have known it wasn’t real. Fighting the delvers is extremely taxing to the psyche, Alanik of the UrDail. This was the only way to judge who would be capable and calm.”
“The only way?” the gorilla demanded. “Let’s try another test then! We can test how well you can take a punch. I’ll start with a hammer to the skull!”
“My, my!” another official said. “A threat?”
“Yes,” Winzik said, waving a shooing motion. “Such aggression! Gul’zah of the burl? You are released from duty.”
“Released from . . . ,” Gul’zah sputtered. “You think . . .”
I stepped forward to tell the Superiority officials where they could stuff their tests, but a voice spoke in my ear, interrupting me. “Spensa?” M-Bot said. “Please don’t get us kicked out. Remember our mission!”
I seethed, watching the gorilla alien, who backed away from several armed dione guards. I almost started shouting again, but then someone else moved up beside me. Morriumur, the dione with the two-tone face.
“Alanik?” they said to me, pleading. “Come, Alanik. Let’s go get some food. They will have it for us below. Your species does eat, yes?” They nodded at me encouragingly.
Finally, I let Morriumur lead me away.
