Page 61 of Rogue Starfighter

“Can we shoot it from here?”

“One forward round. The firing system will not lock at this range.”

“Manual?”

“Yes. If we are close enough.”

The Scythe accelerated toward us. I dropped into the pilot’s seat and pulled the harness tight across my bruised ribs.

“Can the Wraith fly?” Vesh asked.

“Define fly.”

“Leave the surface under control.”

“Probably.”

“Remain in the air?”

“Let’s not get greedy.”

The interceptor cleared the edge of the debris ring, guns charging.

“Twenty seconds,” Vesh said.

I powered the port engine. The Wraith vibrated but did not move. “Come on, beautiful,” I whispered. “Don’t kill us.”

Vesh looked at me.

“Tavik’s line,” I said. “It felt appropriate.”

Something fierce moved across his face. He put one hand against the console. “All right, beautiful. You heard the female. Lift.”

I pushed the engine past its safety limit. The Wraith tore free of the rock. Her damaged side dragged. I fired the one working starboard jet. It coughed, caught, and brought our nose level three meters above the surface. Energy fire struck the ground behind us.

“Fourteen seconds,” Vesh said. “Interceptor closing from aft.”

“Can it see our weapon status?”

“Yes.”

“Then it knows we only have one round.”

“It will stay outside manual range and call the fleet the moment our jammer fails.”

“Unless it thinks we can’t launch.”

“We have already launched.”

“Not for long.” I cut the engine. The Wraith dropped. We hit the surface, bounced once, and slid behind a ridge. Rock fragments sprayed past the canopy.

“Priya.”

“Make us look dead.”

Vesh understood. He shut down the jammer, the core, and every surviving system at once. The cockpit went black.

“Its transmission?” I whispered.