Page 62 of Rogue Starfighter

“Blocked by the ridge. It must leave us behind to reestablish the beam.”

The Scythe passed overhead. I felt the vibration through the hull. The pilot banked, circling back for visual confirmation.

“It will fire into the wreckage,” Vesh said.

“I know.”

“We have no power.”

“Not yet.”

“You are doing the three-second thing again.”

“You liked it in the sim.”

“I survived it in the sim.”

The interceptor turned toward us. Its shadow moved over the ridge.

“Now,” I said.

Vesh slammed the core online. I fired the engine. The Wraith shot over the ridge directly at the Scythe. The enemy pilot had expected a wreck. For one second, the interceptor continued toward us without firing. That second was all I needed.

The Scythe rolled and its cockpit rotated into the center of our display.

“Now.”

Vesh fired our last round. The projectile struck the Scythe’s canopy at point-blank range. The interceptor came apart in a silent burst of light and metal. Debris hammered the Wraith. Something cracked above my head. I kept the port engine at full power and drove us through the explosion before the ship’s remains could trap us against the surface. Then we were above the debris ring. No threat alarm. No transmission. Only Xandrax filling the sky and one very dead Scythe falling behind us.

“Did it report?” I asked.

Vesh checked the passive receiver. “No completed transmission.”

“Core?”

“Nine percent.”

“Of course it is.” My hands started shaking. I left them on the controls. Vesh stared at me. “What?”

“You crashed us a second time.”

“Landed aggressively.”

“Then you launched without power, flew directly at a Scythe, and gave me one second to make an impossible shot.”

“Closer to two.”

He laughed. The sound burst out of him, rough and disbelieving. I started laughing, too. Not because anything was funny. Because we were alive, the enemy was dead, and if I didn’t laugh I was going to start screaming and never stop. Vesh pulled me across the console and kissed me. Hard. Fast. His hand cupped the back of my neck, holding me close while I gripped his uniform. The bond carried his adrenaline into mine until I couldn’t tell whose heart was trying to break free. He tore his mouth away first.

“You are incredible,” he said.

“I nearly killed us twice.”

His thumb moved across my cheek. “I thought flying with you would make me hesitate. You do the opposite.”

The look in his eyes stole the joke I was about to make. But that wasn't enough. I was still hurt. Still rejected. Unwanted. The bondmate he'd refused to claim. Touch.

“Put it in your report,” I said instead.