Page 30 of Starfighter’s Salvation

“We don't have a choice. The trench is too narrow for a formation,” I said. “A second ship doubles the target and blocks maneuvering room.”

“Fighter escort?”

Wroxxon pointed to the jamming field. “Blind fighters are decoration. We don't know if the jamming technology they are using blocks only communications or can actually take down our ships' flight controls or navigation. The fighters cannot follow you below the rim without risk of colliding with the terrain or one another. They fly too quickly to trust line of sight in a tight ravine.”

So, we were going in blind, all by ourselves. Fucking fantastic. “What happens when we exit?” I asked.

“If you report enemy contact before entering the dead zone, escort launches to meet you at the north mouth.”

“If we can report the enemy contact with our jammed communications. And if we can find the survivors. And if we can make it to the northern exit point." Gina sighed. "That's a lot of ifs."

“Exactly,” Captain Wroxxon agreed. "That is why this is strictly a volunteer mission."

Gina looked at the map again. “Oh, we're going. Cassia is down there with her man. But I hate this plan.”

“Good,” Wroxxon said. “Pilots who don't question flight plans tend to die before their time.”

“I’m not the pilot.”

“I'm counting on you to keep your pilot alive.”

Her head came up. For one moment, Wroxxon and Gina looked at each other with complete understanding. I realized they both counted lives, they simply used different languages.

Captain Wroxxon faced General Aryk. “I withdraw the objection. Send them out. But assume the trench is a trap designed specifically for a med evac crew.” He left on that cheerful note.

Gina watched the door close. “Does he practice being charming?”

“Wroxxon is an ass,” Dekker assured her.

“I noticed.”

“He's also correct most of the time.” General Jennix had her arms crossed over her chest and she was watching Gina like my bondmate was a science experiment.

I could be flying Gina into a trap set specifically for us. Or for another set of Elite Starfighters. It wouldn't be the first time Queen Raya targeted the elite forces specifically.

Aryk changed the display to the final approach schematic and the fighter pilots escorting to the edge of the trench stopped their quiet chatter to lock in. “You launch in four hours.”

Gina loaded medical equipment while I completed preflight. She talked to the supplies, a low running murmur under the stir of the preflight fans that pushed the rescue bay air past me. I checked systems I had already checked, because it gave my hands something to do that was not touching her.

“There you are, sweetheart,” she said to a vial of hemostatic foam. “You’re coming with me.”

I checked the power cells.

“Don’t hide, honey. I need four of you.”

I verified the thrusters.

“Big guy, can you reach the upper rack?”

I looked up. “You mean me?”

“Do you see another big guy?”

I removed the case from the upper rack and handed it to her.

“Thank you.”

“Why do you classify everything as a food?”