the collision seems to have crushed my emergency lights.”
Scud. Maybe the pilots of the remote drones would see that this pilot was obviously in trouble, and leave them alone? No . . . if anything, there were more drones approaching than I would have expected. Almost as if they wanted to punish this dione who had been so brash as to participate in an activity that should have been reserved for inferiors.
I pulled the shuttle out of the way of another destructor barrage, then grunted as its booster ignited again, towing me back. I tried to compensate by using M-Bot’s projections on my canopy, but my efforts weren’t terribly effective.
“Please,” the pilot said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you into this. Leave me to my fate. It is what I deserve.”
“Like hell,” I said, grunting again and trying to steer as the malfunctioning booster cut out. While it was down, I towed the craft toward Hesho’s flagship—which was firing with increased desperation at the nearby drones.
“Spensa,” M-Bot said. “That last turn you made let my cameras get a glimpse at the ship’s boosters. There’s a chunk of stone lodged in the left one’s expression valve. Getting that free might fix the problem, as the booster is locked into a loop, trying to fire up—then finding the obstruction and triggering an emergency power-down.”
“All right,” I said. “Let me just crawl out and fix it then.”
“Ha ha. You’d die!”
I grinned, getting ready for the booster to ignite again.
“That . . . was sarcasm, right?” M-Bot said. “Just checking. Because I don’t think you actually want to leave your ship. Explosive decompression would—”
“It was a joke,” I said, then cursed as the booster on the broken ship ignited again. Unfortunately, I couldn’t count on Hesho for help. The larger, slower fighter had its hands full holding off four drones.
“Open a general line,” I said to M-Bot. “I think I’m going to need another ship to pull this off.” A light on my comm blinked on. “This is a general distress call,” I said. “I need a ship with a light-lance to help me at . . . coordinates 150.+60.554 from reference beacon 34.”
I was met by silence. The battlefield had emptied a little, as many of the prospective pilots had given up. The ones remaining were those skilled enough to survive—though many flew unarmed personal crafts, and focused only on dodging and staying ahead of the drones.
In that, it seemed the test had been effective. It had quickly identified those who could fly under pressure. The debris of destroyed ships indicated, however, that the cost had been brutal.
“Leave me,” the dione pilot said again. “I’m sorry. My trouble is not your trouble.”
I eyed the Krell drones that were lurking nearby. “Hold on a sec,” I said, then disengaged my light-lance. Suddenly free and unencumbered, I swooped around and started firing on the drones. I scored a couple of hits, but their shields were still up—so all I did was send them into basic defensive maneuvers.
“I could really use some help,” I said over the general line. “Please. Anyone.”
“Well . . . ,” a breezy, feminine voice said. “Do you promise not to shoot me?”
“Yes, of course!” I said. “Why would I shoot you?”
“Um . . .” A ship hovered out from behind a nearby asteroid.
A Krell drone! I put my finger on the trigger, turning my ship toward it and aiming quickly.
“You said you wouldn’t shoot me!” the voice said.
Wait. The drone was talking to me?
“Oh!” M-Bot said. “Ask her if she’s an AI!”
“Are you an AI?” I asked over the line.
“No, of course not!” the voice said. “But I’m willing to help. What do you need?”
“Go chase those drones away from that disabled shuttle,” I said. “Give me a little breathing room to try some precise flying.”
“Very well,” the voice said.
The little drone boosted out from her hiding place and moved in. My dione friend in the shuttle let out a fatalistic “So it ends” as the talking drone got close—but the drone did as I’d asked, instead chasing away the enemy ships.
“All right,” I said. “M-Bot, highlight on my canopy that rock jammed into the shuttle’s booster. Then narrow my light-lance’s beam to the tightest possible setting.”
“Ooooohhhh,” he said. “Done.”
I used the break in fighting to get in just behind the shuttle, positioning myself carefully and waiting for the right moment. I wasn’t nearly as good a shot as Kimmalyn or Arturo—my specialties were flying fast and pulling stunts. Fortunately,