Page 2 of Rogue Starfighter

“No.”

My body remained unconvinced. I forced myself to stop staring at her face and read the rest of the file. She was an air traffic controller. Her job involved guiding primitive aircraft through crowded airspace and preventing them from colliding with one another. Useful skills, but they did not make her a scout.

The designation bothered me more than the pair bond. Nobody volunteered for reconnaissance. Scouts entered enemy territory without a fleet at their backs or command whispering instructions into their ears. We survived on instinct, training, and the ability to make a decision before anyone else realized there was one to make.

Many excellent pilots could not do it. This Earth female believed she had been playing a game. What could she possibly know about flying alone into hostile space? I opened her training records, ready to confirm the system had made a monumental fucking mistake. Then I stopped breathing. I reviewed her final flight log twice. Watched the simulation. Forgot to breathe.

No. That could not be right. I opened the complete mission history and started at the beginning. She had been impatient at first. Too dependent on established flight paths. Too cautious when the enemy behaved unpredictably. Then she adapted.

Mission by mission, Priya stopped waiting for the correct route to appear. She learned to find openings that did not exist until the instant she needed them. Her final corridor run should have killed her. I had flown a similar route once and survived with damage to half my ship.

She had flown it without a scratch.

“How?”

The numbers did not answer. I replayed the simulation. Her avatar sat at the controls of the Wraith with my training construct seated beside her. She moved too fast. Cut too close to the debris. Ignored the safe route and rolled through a gap I would have sworn was too narrow. It was reckless.

It was insane. It was perfect. I watched the entire flight again.

Priya Anand was better than I was.

Not more experienced. Not better with Velerion technology. But she had the skills no instructor could teach. Instinct. Courage. She felt the correct path before it opened. A weak partner would have been easy to reject. I could have sent her back to Earth, told myself she was safer there, and returned to my missions alone.

Priya was not weak. She was exactly what the reconnaissance program needed. Worse, she was exactly what I needed in a pilot to fly the Wraith. I hated that realization almost as much as I hated how beautiful she was.

The screen returned to her profile image when the replay ended. Those dark eyes stared at me again. Calm. Patient. Waiting. Fucking daring me to go get her.

Years ago, I had obeyed the order requiring every eligible Elite Starfighter to register with the training program. I submitted my records, completed the evaluations, and ignored every update after that. Other fighters checked on their potential recruits. Watched their mission logs. Recorded new voice samples with updates and advice as they progressed through their 'game.' Waited for a match. I had wanted no part of it.

My last partnership had taught me exactly what caring cost. I had survived because someone I cared about had not. I would not make that mistake again. A mate would expect trust. Affection. Perhaps even love. I had none of those things left to give her.

Priya deserved a male who could welcome her instead of studying her file as if she were an enemy weapon. She deserved better than me. Unfortunately, Velerion needed every Elite Starfighter the program could find. And I had just watched her fly. She was good. If I didn’t claim her, someone else would.

There was no chance in hell I was allowing another scout to claim her. I closed the appeal without submitting it. The mark on the back of my neck pulsed once, as if satisfied.

“Do not start with me,” I warned it.

I recalled my surveillance drones and wiped every trace of my presence from the cave. The Wraith powered up around me, engines kept low to avoid detection while I plotted a route back to Moon Base Arturri. From there, I would request the next Gate opening to Earth.

I looked at Priya’s image one last time before closing the file.

“You had better be worth the trouble, female.”

1

Priya Anand, Phoenix, Arizona, United States, Two Days Earlier

A microburst was rolling in over the western approach. Three regional jets were stacked behind it. A medevac helicopter was screaming for priority. And a student pilot in a Cessna had just keyed his mic to ask if he could “go around again real quick.” God help us all.

This was the part of my job I loved.

“November Four-Two-Charlie, negative. Hold your heading. You are not cleared for a touch-and-go. I say again, you are not cleared for a touch-and-go.”

“But I thought⁠—”

“I have a medevac coming in behind you.” My voice stayed calm. Always. I could feel everyone in the tower listening, waiting to see if the student pilot would argue with me again. “Maintain heading and exit the pattern. I’ll bring you around when the runway is clear.”

A long pause followed.