He’d seen the specs on the stolen Imperial skimmer that Delsol now commanded. The Andros Pak was heavily armed for its size and armored to a degree that should have been impossible save for the fact that it was the emperor’s—former emperor’s—private skimmer. As it was now a corsair in the command of a pirate … well, it was unlikely to find itself redeemed to honest duty.
Kim doubted that Delsol was going to surrender peaceably.
Even with all the advanced armor and weapons, the corsair could only take a destroyer of the Elemental’s class perhaps three fights in ten. Against a squadron, well … Kim smiled. He just hoped it wasn’t over too quickly.
Nor too drawn out. His smile was replaced by a frown. If they ran, and they likely would, of course, there was still that blasted desert to hide in.
The eternal mist that marked the edge of sight was less predictable in the desert. It could close on you in an instant, swallowing vision like a beast gobbling up everything it could, or the mist could morph into the vision of an impossibly large body of water glinting in the sunlight. The image of that had driven men mad in the past and likely would again in the future.
It was a fate that Kim would prefer not to tempt.
That choice, however, lay in the hands of the disgraced Cadrewoman.
“Lay in the sails, tighten us to the wind,” he ordered. “Bring the squadron up to full speed. We’ll take her while she’s on the ground.”
“Aye, skipper!”
“That’s it,” Brennan said, satisfied as he checked the control surfaces and the twin sticks from the pilot’s seat of the Naga.
Unlike his personal skimmer, the pilot sat in the rear seat in a Naga, leaving room for a gunner up front. It would take some getting used to, as it did cost him some of his forward- and lower-angle visibility, but all the same the setup felt natural.
He flipped a half-dozen switches, bringing systems online one at a time, checking them off in order. Power was still flowing through the old beast, and all the systems cleared the checklist.
Burning skies, they built these monsters to last, Brennan thought admiringly. He’d been trying to get Kayle to check him out on a Naga for so long.
His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Lydia touched his shoulder a moment later. “Bren?”
“I’m OK,” he assured her. “I was just thinking of …”
“Kayle,” she answered. “I know.”
“He would be so pissed with us right now.” Brennan forced a grin.
Lydia nodded, smiling as well. “He would.”
Brennan let out a long breath, blowing until his lungs were empty and burning. After he’d filled them again, he looked once more to his sister. “Do we trust her?”
“Delsol?” Lydia frowned, uncertain. “She’s Cadre.”
“Former Cadre. So is the man who murdered our father.”
Lydia nodded, though she couldn’t help but smile just slightly as well. “I suspect that she would be somewhat … put off by the comparison.”
“Boohoo for her,” Brennan retorted. “I’m not interested in her mental problems. Do we trust her?”
Lydia considered the question a little more seriously, but honestly, she wasn’t sure if they had a choice.
“I think we have to,” she said finally. “For a while, at least. We can’t outrun a legion, Bren.”
“Like hell we can’t,” Brennan said, nodding to the gunner’s seat. “You hop in there, and I’ll have us clear before they can even spot our sails.”
“What about Dusk and Mik?” Lydia asked gently, nodding to the other two. “It’s a two-seater, remember?”
Brennan looked apologetically at them. “Sorry, guys, but you’re not the ones they’re chasing.”
The duo shifted uncomfortably but nodded in understanding.
“We understand,” Dusk said softly. “We don’t really know each other much, and we already owe you.”
“So where would we run to, Bren?” Lydia cut in. “To what?”
“I don’t know, but I’m just not sure that this woman is the answer to those questions.”
“Neither am I.”
“Good.”
The new voice startled both of them as they jerked around to see the woman in question standing off to the side with an amused look on her face.
“If you were sure,” Mira told them, “I’d question your sanity.”
They shifted uncomfortably, uncertain what to say.
“Look, if it were up to me, I’d give you all the time in the world to decide,” Mira said, “but that legion approaching, they have other ideas. The Andros is lifting off in ten mikes. Your call.”
She pivoted on her heel and marched away.
“Well,” Mik said, amused, “awkward.”
“Shut up, Mik,” Dusk growled, actually raising her voice for the first time Lydia or Brennan could remember.
“Yes, ma’am.” Mik chuckled.
The look his sister shot him would have likely melted steel, and even Brennan—as used to annoying Lydia as he was—was rethinking any future plans to tease Dusk in the same way. Instead he refocused on his own sister and restated the question hanging between them.
“Lyd, you’ve been calling the shots since we escaped,” he admitted. “Say the word now and I’ll fly the two of us out of here. We can hide out in the desert, skirt the dunes along the edge, and pop out downspin of here. They’ll never find us.”
“I know,” she said. “I know, but then what? She offered to show you how to use Kayle’s Bene, remember? It’s the last thing he gave you.”
“I don’t care.” Brennan shook his head. “This is about more than that.”
“We have to trust someone.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he admitted, “but why her?”
Lydia just shrugged. “Why not her?”
That response was perhaps one of the few that Brennan didn’t have an answer for. So far, though it was a limited sample of time, Delsol had been upfront and had treated them with respect, which was better than what they’d dealt with most of their lives, their brother aside.
“OK, fine. I’m still taking the Naga,” he said firmly.
Lydia laughed, stepping back as she slapped the side of the military skimmer. “Get in the air, Bren. We’ll follow.”
Brennan blinked. “You’re going with her now?”
“May as well,” she said, shrugging. “Why?”
“I need a gunner,” he said, thinking hard.
Lydia blinked and considered it as well. She didn’t think she could do the job even if she wanted to.
“I programmed the systems,” Dusk offered quietly. “I might be able …”
“No.” Lydia shook her head. “You’ve never flown like my brother flies. If he’s serious about this, he needs someone with experience. Wait a moment.”
She strode across the ground to where Mira was overseeing the last few crewmen loading crates into the waiting skimmer.
“Make your decision?” Mira asked, not looking back as she approached.
“Yes. My brother needs a gunner.”
Mira blinked.
That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. She was about to ask if he could actually fly the old fossil that the kids had prepped but then remembered his reputation in that field. He was considered better at flying than troublemaking, which was saying something.
She considered it for a moment, then nodded sharply. “The Scourwind heir needs a gunner! Any volunteers?”