“Then what is?” I shoot back, already moving.
“You overloading the system mid-flight,” he says.
“I’m not overloading it,” I reply. “I’m redirecting it.”
“That’s worse,” he mutters.
“Only if it fails,” I say, pulling up the power routing interface.
“Jolie—”
“We don’t have time for a better option,” I cut in, my fingers moving fast across the controls. “They’re closing, and we’re not going to outrun them at this output.”
The pilot glances at me, then back at the display.
“She’s not wrong,” he says.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I know.”
I reroute the power.
The system protests immediately, warning indicators flashing across the panel, but I push through them, redirecting energy from secondary systems into the engines.
“Hold on,” I say.
The ship responds instantly.
Acceleration spikes.
Hard.
The force slams me back against the console, my grip tightening as the entire structure strains under the sudden surge.
“That’s not subtle,” Hrask mutters.
“Subtle wasn’t working,” I shoot back.
The interceptors scramble to adjust, their formation breaking slightly as we surge forward faster than they anticipated.
“Now,” I say. “Punch it.”
The pilot grins.
“Gladly.”
The engines roar louder, the ship tearing upward through the last layers of atmosphere as the sky outside shifts from burning orange to deep, endless black.
“They’re still on us,” Hrask says.
“Not for long,” I reply, adjusting the defensive grid one last time.
I fire again.
Not to hit.
To scatter.
The shot forces the lead interceptor to break off just enough to disrupt the pursuit line.
