Page 77 of Rogue Starfighter

“Take the scout,” Aryk said. “Take the entire reckless lot of them. Retrieve Lieutenant Vesh, return without engaging anything larger than an interceptor, and don't get yourselves killed.”

The command center erupted into motion. Flight plans, weapons checks, Gate clearance. I touched the mark at my neck. Still warm.

“Hold on,” I whispered. “I’m coming.”

The bond pulsed once beneath my fingers. That was enough. I ran for the launch bay.

15

Vesh, Adrift, Enemy Space

I was not dead, which surprised me considerably. The Wraith, however, would never fly again.

After Priya’s pod entered the Gate, I cut power to the overloaded core one second before it failed. The Wraith dropped out of the debris field and took three direct hits while the Scythes tried to follow. The last impact broke my left arm, burned half my uniform, and threw the ship into an uncontrolled tumble. It also revealed the truth that the Wraith was no longer a threat.

I vented the remaining heat, killed every system, and let our momentum carry us behind the shattered hull of an old mining vessel floating in the debris field. The surviving Scythes scanned the wreckage twice. Then they left.

The plan had worked. Unfortunately, I had no way to get home. I sat strapped into a dead cockpit with a broken arm, burned skin, forty-five minutes of emergency air in my helmet, and no functioning transmitter.

Priya was alive. The bond told me that much. She had passed through the Gate. She was moving farther away, warm and furious at the back of my neck. Safe. I had told myself that would be enough. I had been an idiot.

Priya had trusted me when she was most afraid. She had told me exactly what being abandoned had done to her. Then I locked her into a capsule and sent her away while I stayed behind. Tactically correct. Emotionally unforgivable.

If I survived, I would apologize. If I did not, she would find a way to drag me back from death simply to yell at me. The thought almost made me laugh.

The air warning flashed. Forty-two minutes. I tried the emergency beacon again. Nothing. The receiver produced a burst of static. Then a voice.

“Recon wing through the Gate. Mia, establish the jamming cone. Kass, with me.”

Alex? I stared at the dead display. The voice came again, broken by interference.

“Priya, hold behind us until the screen opens.”

The bond surged so hard I nearly blacked out. She had come back. Of course she had. I closed my eyes and swore.

“Thirty-five minutes of air,” the Wraith informed me.

“I heard you.”

The system did not care. Weapons fire lit the debris field beyond the cracked canopy. Velerion blue. Xandraxian white. The battle moved between me and the Gate.

Then I felt Priya. Not a distant point through the bond. Close. Moving through the debris field with the same controlled precision she brought to everything she did. She passed within five kilometers of the Wraith and kept going. My ship was too dark to see.

I struck the beacon control with my good hand. Nothing. Again. The panel sparked. A single weak pulse left the Wraith.

Priya’s scout turned immediately. Her ship appeared between two slabs of debris, small and fast, running without external lights. Her voice came through the dying receiver. “There you are.”

I could hear her breathing. “Priya.”

“You absolute idiot.”

“I have reached the same conclusion.”

“Air status?”

“Thirty-two minutes.”

“Injuries?”