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He followed her line of sight.
“Shit.”
Bretton, we’re being tailed.Even mid-subvocalization, the thermaview shuttered to black, engaging the needlefin’s lightweight shields.
I know. Strap in.
Orion turned back to Kaia, ready to drag her back into her seat, but she was already up and making way to the front.
“Wait.” Orion got up to follow her. The ship jerked a sharp keel to the left, knocking them both off balance. She regained hers faster, nimble legs flexing to keep her upright, and reached the cockpit before Orion could get there. Bretton hadn’t locked the door. There had been no need; it had been just them in the ship for days, talking shit in the cockpit about their childhoods onColossal.
“What the fuck?” Bretton’s booming shout carried out to the passenger cabin. When Orion got to the entrance of the cockpit, he groaned at the sight of Kaia in the copilot’s seat. “Get her out, Halen.”
The warship coming at them was small for its kind, a compact Raptor C-type—outdated, but widely considered a wartime classic, among the best for its time. It was painted a sleek black, with no identifying markers as Universal Law required.
Kaia pulled away when he tried to nudge her up, narrowed eyes following the pursuing ship even as she rattled out a fast stream of instructions to Bretton—one he was predictably ignoring. What was it with women? They always had opinions at the worst possible moments.
The warship strayed over the needlefin, out of view of the cockpit’s visor. With a glance at the radar, Orion saw it coming back around to tail them. Bretton looked to the radar screen instead, jaw set and eyes tight as he tried to maneuver around the ship. He punched a comms channel.
“Unmarked vessel, this isLotus 214A36. We are a non-hostile vessel under colony protection. Disengage.”
“He won’t fucking listen to you,” Kaia growled. As if to mark her words, the needlefin quivered with the shock of impact. An alarm flared on the dashboard. Bretton had the bow guns extracted, but the attacker wasn’t at their bow. The warship was now on the side and, judging by the radar, swerving in their direction.
“And now your stern propulsion is dead. Great job.” Kaia rolled her eyes. “I told you, he favors starboard.”
Orion gripped the back of her seat as another convulsion rocked the ship, and it dawned on him.
“Bret…” He leaned toward the pilot over the blaring of an alarm. “She knows who it is.”
Bretton was silent, fingers flicking on the dash as he multitasked.
“Bretton!” Orion growled.
The fury in Bretton’s eyes was palpable as he glanced between Orion to the girl. “Will you both get the fuck out of here? I'm trying to save our asses!”
“Oh, yeah, and you’re doing a great job. Look, I’m telling you, strafe left,” Kaia urged.
“Rightintothe goddamn Raptor? Are you fucking suicidal?”
Kaia threw her hands over the back of the seat, her lithe body contorting with exasperation. Tense fingers brushed against Orion’s on the fabric, and their eyes met, locking in a moment of comprehension.
She twisted in her seat. Looking up at him, her words came fast. “Let me do it. You or this fucker get on the aft cannon.”
The needlefin had one aft cannon. It wasn’t a fighter ship, equipped with only the bare necessities of self-defense. Heat-wise, it was no match for a Raptor, but they had to dosomething. They were in the middle of fucking nowhere. Chances of backup were slim to none, so the best they could do was stall and hope.
“Orion.” Her voice was even, but as the warship circled them, taunting, there was fear in her eyes. “I know this guy. His reaction times are sloppy on port, and he fucks around too much. I can handle him, but someone needs to shoot.”
Orion narrowed his eyes, considering. This was a horrible idea. She wasn’t even a licensed pilot. How could she do a better job than colony-trained Bretton?
But he remembered how smoothly she flew her hunk of junk into the dock. That required skill. Precision. And… she clearly knew whoever was attacking them.
“Hand over the controls, Bretton.”
“Fuck off.”
“Bretton, so help me, when I become Commander, assuming you don’t get us all killed first, I will lock you up for retroactive insubordination for the rest of your life if you don’t hand over the controls right fucking now.”
Bretton flinched at the threat, the movement jolting the needlefin up as his hands white-knuckled the yoke. With a stream of expletives and a spray of spittle, he punched in the codes to transfer control to the copilot’s seat, where Kaia was already getting to work.
