another place—and I could tap into it. Listen in on their commands.
I was somehow internalizing their commands, and responding to them before I knew what I was doing.
I tried not to let that freak me out.
M-Bot was incredibly agile, capable of quick boosts and deliberate slices in one direction or another. As I flew, it seemed as if I could feel him—feel the very lines of electricity that passed my orders through his fuselage. I flew with the immediate, unconscious skill of a person flexing their muscles. With the precision of a cautious surgeon, but the frenetic energy of the strongest athlete. It was incredible.
I was so consumed that I almost missed it as Arturo radioed in. “Spin, this isn’t working. Those black ships refuse to be pulled away from the bomber. They engage us if we get close, but fall back when we draw away. And the bomber is still flying on a steady course.”
“ETA until the enemy reaches position to destroy Igneous?” I asked.
“Under two minutes,” M-Bot said. “At current speed of—”
“This is Riptide leader, callsign: Terrier,” a male voice said. “What in the North Star’s light is happening here?”
“No time to explain,” I said. “Flightleader, take everything you have and hit those black ships that are protecting the bomber.”
“And who are you?”
I turned—followed by my train of angry Krell ships—and buzzed over the six newcomers who had just arrived at the battle. I could barely get a visual on them because the destructor fire around me was so thick. I took another hit, and a fourth.
“Shield at forty percent strength,” M-Bot noted.
I stayed ahead of most of the enemies, finding the holes between shots, my instincts somehow reading the Krell motions.
Stars appeared in my vision. Pinpricks of light.
The eyes.
Jorgen’s voice rang through the channel. “Sir, with all due respect, she’s a person you should listen to. Now.”
Terrier grunted, then said, “Riptide Flight, all ships, engage those black fighters.”
“Not all,” I said, spinning right. “Jorgen, FM, you there?”
“Here, Spin,” FM said.
“You two. Take position near that bomber. I’m going to lead this swarm of Krell back around to it and hopefully give you enough of a distraction to get in close. When that happens, I need you to IMP that bomber. We don’t have much time left.”
“Roger,” Jorgen said. “On me, FM?”
“Gotcha.”
I swung in a wide loop, passing by Kimmalyn—who flew carefully out beyond the main battlefield. My entourage ignored her, presuming me to be the dangerous one.
“Quirk,” I said over a private channel. “I need you to shoot that bomber.”
“If that ship crashes, it will detonate the bomb,” Kimmalyn said. “You’ll die. You’ll all die. Even if you escape, everyone in Alta will die.”
“Do you think you can knock the ship’s engines out? Or do something to get that bomber to drop the bomb?”
“A shot like that would—”
“Kimmalyn. What would the Saint say?”
“I don’t know!”
“Then what would you say? Remember? The first day we met?”
I banked and spun back toward the bomber. Terrier and his ships, along with Arturo and Nedd, had thrown themselves at the black fighters. I bore down on it all, bringing the rest of the ships in to create a chaotic, frenzied jumble.
“Under thirty seconds,” M-Bot said softly.
“You told me to take a deep breath,” I said to Kimmalyn. “Reach up . . .”
“Pluck a star,” she whispered.
My arrival—and the ships chasing me—created the confusion I’d anticipated. Ships darted in every direction, and the black ships scattered out of the way, trying to avoid collisions with their own vessels.
In my mind, I heard a specific Krell order sent to the bomber. The eyes accompanied me, somehow growing brighter—more hateful—as I heard the Krell chatter in my mind.
Initiate countdown to detonation at one hundred seconds.
“M-Bot!” I said. “Someone above just set the bomb to explode on a one-hundred-second countdown!”
“How do you know?”
“I can hear them!”
“Hear them how? They aren’t using radio that I can monitor!” He paused. “Can you hear their superluminal communications?”
I caught a flash to my right. “IMP struck!” FM shouted, excited. “Bomber shields down!”
“Quirk, fire!” I screamed.
A line of red light pierced the battlefield. It passed between Krell ships, went right over Jorgen’s wing as he overburned away from the bomber.
And damn me if it didn’t spear the exact spot between the bomber and the bomb, severing the clamps. The bomber continued flying forward.
But the bomb, cut free, dropped.
“Lifebuster dropped!” Terrier shouted. “All ships, overburn out! Now!”
Everyone scattered, Krell included. Everyone but me.
I dove.
53
“Lifebuster dropped,” Riptide flightleader shouted. “All ships, overburn