“Flight Command knows about it,” Cobb reported back. “Your replacements are climbing into their ships now. They should get here soon.”
“And if they’re not fast enough?” I asked. “What if that ship has a lifebuster?”
“Flight Command has visual ID on it, Spin,” Cobb said. “The ship isn’t a bomber. A single ship can’t do that much damage.”
“Respectfully, sir, I disagree,” Jorgen said. “While the base is shielded, it could fire on the farmers with destructors, kill dozens before it’s—”
“I know the capabilities of the damn Krell, boy. Thank you.” Cobb took a deep breath. “It’s close?”
“Yes, sir. Getting closer.”
Silence over the line, then finally, “You may engage. But stay on the defensive. No grandstanding, cadet. I want you to distract it until the reinforcements get into the air.”
I nodded, nervous sweat slicking the sides of my head, inside my helmet. I got ready to fly.
“I’m on it, sir!” Jerkface said. “Nedder, you’re my wingmate!”
“Roger, Jorg,” Nedd said.
Two ships broke out of our line. And before I knew it, I had grabbed my throttle and zipped after them.
“Spin,” Jerkface said. “Back into line!”
“You need me,” I said. “The more of us there are, the more likely we’ll be to scare the thing off and back toward the real fighters!”
“And she’ll need a wingmate,” Hurl said, pushing out of line and tailing me.
“No, no!” Jerkface said. “Everyone else should stay in line!”
“Take her,” Cobb said. “Hurl and Spin, you’re with the flightleader and his wingmate. But the rest of you hold position. I don’t want you slamming into each other up there.”
Jerkface fell silent. Together, the four of us flew in an intercept course, picking up speed, moving to cut in front of the enemy fighter before it could get too close to Alta. I was worried we wouldn’t reach it in time, that it would zip right past us. But I needn’t have been so worried.
Because the moment we drew close enough, it swooped around and came straight for us.
11
My pulse raced. My face went cold.
But I realized, in that moment, that I wasn’t afraid.
I’d always worried that I would be. I talked big, I pretended like a champ. But how many fights had I actually been in? One or two scuffles with other kids when I was younger? Some sparring matches in judo classes?
A part of me had always worried that when I got into the sky, I’d panic. That I’d prove myself to be the coward everyone claimed I was. Like . . . like the lies said my dad had been.
But with a calm and steady hand, I eased up on the throttle and pulled into a turn, trying to position myself behind the enemy. I knew dogfighting techniques. I knew them backward and forward; I’d drawn them out in the margins of basically every set of notes I’d taken in class, regardless of the subject.
I was still hopeless. I made the curve way too wide, and Hurl nearly smashed into me because we had banked at different times.
“Wow,” Hurl said as the two of us recovered. “This is harder than it seems, eh?”
The Krell ship chose Jorgen to attack, letting out a blast of glowing destructor fire. I tried to help, but my turn was too sharp this time. Jorgen, Nedd, and the Krell ship all zipped away behind me in a sequence of dogfighting maneuvers.
I blushed, feeling useless. I’d always assumed I’d just . . . well, take to this naturally. But I struggled to get my ship even pointed in the right direction.
The Krell pulled into position again behind Jerkface—who cursed softly, and then did a near-perfect twin-S dodge. Suddenly all of this became so much more real to me. That was one of my flightmates. And the enemy was doing its best to kill him.
“Nice work, Jorgen,” Cobb said. “But be careful with those maneuvers in the future. If you fly too much better than your companions, the Krell will immediately target you. If they can identify flightleaders, they attack them first.”
“Shouldn’t they attack the weakest pilots first?” FM asked. “The easiest to kill.”
But that wasn’t the way the Krell thought. They always targeted the best pilots they could find, in an attempt to destroy our chain of command.
“I’ll explain later,” Cobb said, voice tense. “Nedd, you need to stick closer to Jorgen, if you can. Make the Krell have to worry about you tailing it if it tries to tail him.”
It was fortunate the Krell focused on good pilots, because Hurl and I would have made easy target practice. We could barely steer. Jerkface though . . . he performed a perfect Ahlstrom loop, almost losing the Krell ship.
Unfortunately, Jerkface’s next spin wasn’t as masterful—he performed it well, but when he pulled out of it, he ended up accidentally pointed toward the rest of the flight. I heard him curse over the radio as he tried to swerve, but that sent shots from the pursuing enemy ship right into our team.
They scattered, ships twisting in all directions. Bim clipped Morningtide, the quiet girl with the tattoos. Their ships bounced away from each other, but didn’t hit anyone else. A few destructor blasts hit Rig’s ship full on, but his shield held. He still screamed over the radio as the flashes of light rocked his Poco.
I gritted my teeth, heart thumping as Hurl and I managed—finally—to head in the right direction. But that meant we passed among the scattering ships, and I nearly collided with Bim this time.
Scud. I understood the admiral’s reasoning, but there was no way we should be up here fighting. At this rate, the only funeral pyres burned today would be our own. Poor Kimmalyn had leaned on her altitude controls, and had retreated some five hundred feet below us.
Jerkface barely kept ahead of the Krell, though he’d long since outpaced Nedd. I pushed the throttle forward, and my ship compensated briefly for the g-forces, but after a few seconds they hit me, pushing me back in the seat, making me feel heavier.
“Where are those reinforcements!” Jerkface said as the enemy fired on him, blasting at his shield.
“Any moment now,” Cobb said.
“I may not have a moment!” Jorgen said. “I’m going to try to get the ship to follow me up high so the AA guns can shoot it. Radio them.”
“Done,” Cobb said. “The Krell ship’s shield is still up, so you might have to keep it in AA-gun range long enough for the gunners to score several hits.”
“Okay . . . I’ll try . . . What’s this red flashing light on my dash?”
“Your shield is down,” Cobb said softly.
I can save him. I thought, desperate. I have to save him! The two had gained a lot of altitude. My only hope was to get there fast, to tail the Krell ship and shoot it down. So I pointed my ship’s nose up and slammed my throttle forward, hitting overburn.
The g-force crushed me downward as I flew up, and I felt myself grow heavier. It was the strangest sensation, far different from what I’d imagined. I could feel my skin pulling down, like it was going to slide off my face, and my arms grew heavy—making it difficult to steer.
Worse, a wave of nausea hit me as my stomach was pulled downward. Within seconds I started to black out.