“Tayel! Do you understand? Twenty—”
Tayel pounded the button and the ship shuddered. The flak cannon fired. She braced for impact. The detonation wave rocked the ship but the explosion happened far back against the emitters — a grim fireworks display on the video feed — casting their hull in orange.
“Got it!” she cried.
“Thank Alhyt,” Shy breathed, and she grit her teeth.
An enemy dove out of left airspace, and she rolled the ship wing over wing to evade fire. Tayel’s head spun. She held herself center in her seat with her left hand while her right moved the yoke into position. Her screen blinked every time their attacker came into focus. She pressed the trigger halfway in. Shy leveled out beside their pursuer, and Tayel moved the gimbal until the console glowed green with the lock. She fired.
The stream of laser hit dead-on, causing the enemy ship’s shields to flicker. A cry of elation caught in her throat as it made a sharp, evasive turn. Shy made chase. G-forces sucked Tayel back into the chair as the landscape started to blur.
The radar showed their two other attackers behind, but she tore her eyes away to focus on the one in front. The one with the shields she’d downed. The targeting lock blinked green. She pulled the trigger, heart racing. Lasers lanced through her target’s hull. Orange flames burst outward from the tears, and the ship spiraled down at the end of a smoke trail.
“Hell yeah!” Tayel whooped.
“Yes!” Shy shouted. “Xite, you actually did it!”
“Maybe you should have trusted me sooner, huh?” Tayel chided.
Shy eyed her wryly as she brought the ship around. “Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned your passing marks. Coming around on the other two.”
Tayel kept the gimbal steady as Shy did another loop through the air, leveling out behind the remaining two enemy vessels. One veered left into open sky, but the other turned toward the mountain range. Tayel pictured a magball field, one opponent heading toward the center of the field — open room, multi-directional strategies — and the other heading toward the field barrier. Barriers meant only one way out.
“Chase the right one,” Tayel said, and Shy steered so that the left wing angled straight up at the sky. Tayel fell against the right side of her harness with all her weight.
The ship in front of them skirted the mountain, peeling off toward open air, but she fired ahead of it, giving a lead. It flew into the fire, shields flickering out. She kept the trigger pulled back, moving the yoke slightly to keep the lock. The ship exploded in a cloud of black and orange.
“Got him,” Tayel said.
“Nice, but where’d the other one go?” Shy murmured. She squinted out the viewport.
In the pause, Tayel noted the battle waging below. The number of Varg on the walls seemed so much less than before. Raiders lobbed incendiary grenades over the defenses, setting fire to the buildings beyond.
“Shy,” she said, “what if we attack the ground forces? We could ease some of the strain for the outpost.”
Shy leaned back in her seat. “You want to do an air strike on the raiders?”
“Yes the—!” Tayel stopped.
If what happened to the refugees in Castle Aishan happened to the raiders, too, then those people down there weren’t bloodthirsty murderers at all. They were brainwashed, and they could have been Shy’s friends — Shy’s family.
“Never mind,” Tayel said. “Sorry. That was a stupid suggestion.”
“No, you’re right.” Shy accelerated downward, her eyes sharp and intense in the low cabin light. “We should take advantage of this position while we can.”
Tayel took her hand off the yoke. “But Shy, they’re your people!”
“I know. So don’t make me shoot them.”
“Shy—”
A proximity alert blared for half a second before the whole ship shuddered. Tayel gripped her armrests. The console went dark. The lights flickered out. The hum of the engines vanished into silence, and suddenly, her stomach rose into her chest. The ship angled downward, the view of the city coming into focus. Her heart stopped. They were falling.
“No!” Shy yelled. She struggled with the yoke, eyes widening. “No! No! No!
“What—? What’s—?” Tayel couldn’t find the air to form a full sentence.
Shy toggled a switch, but nothing changed. “EMP! Just—just hang on, okay?”
A lump formed in Tayel’s throat. The ship picked up speed and started to spiral.
“Xite, xite xite xite. Tayel, press your tongue to the roof of your mouth.”
“W-what?”
“Do it, and bite down. Don’t open your mouth!”
Tayel did so. Shy gripped her armrests and closed her eyes, and Tayel understood. Shy couldn’t save them, not this time. No amount of hoping this was all a nightmare stopped the snow from coming up to meet them. The ship roared on impact, and everything went black.
Chapter 22
The ship settled, but the tremor of impact lingered in Tayel’s bones. The sound of grinding metal still rang in her ears, and her breaths came out in shudders, her heartbeat a racing thud against her insides. Dull explosions echoed outside, but there was little way of knowing how close they were, save for how hard the ground shook afterward. Dirt and snow caked the cockpit window entirely, and only dim blue lights lining the floor allowed Tayel to see.
Her harness dug into her left side, where all her weight pressed against the straps. The ship had come to rest tilted; the co-pilot’s chair sat at an angled, higher elevation than the pilot’s — than Shy.
Tayel shook her head, clearing the haze. “Shy?”
Shy groaned in response, and Tayel rolled her head to the side. Shy held her face in her hands, her bared teeth visible through the gaps in her fingers. Glistening dark liquid dripped down her wrists. Blood.
A crack of cold fear shot Tayel fully awake. She lifted her legs — planted her feet on the console. She tugged at the right release strap and swung her arm out of the hold, shifting to keep balance, but the left release wouldn’t budge. She pulled it again, wincing as her sore, bruised muscles strained. Nothing. With a tremendous tug, she freed her arm from the harness, but toppled forward, catching herself by the gut against Shy’s armrest. Tayel’s eyes snapped shut at the lance of pain.
“What are you doing?” Shy sounded groggy — disoriented.
Tayel caught her breath. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m — no. I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. There’s blood.”
Shy’s jaw set.
“Just — let me see,” Tayel said.
She swallowed the taste of bile and reached forward, gently grabbing Shy’s wrist. Warm blood stuck to her fingers as she moved it aside. Pressure alleviated, blood flowed freely from a gash stretched from the edge of Shy’s cheekbone to her jawline — right beside her ear. Even in the dim lighting, it already looked discolored. Tayel winced.
“What?” Shy asked. “How bad?”
“Keep putting pressure on it.”
Shy put her hand against the wound. She tried to stand, but collapsed back into her seat.
“What are you doing?” Tayel asked.
“I’m dizzy, but—”
“Just stay put, Shy.” Tayel drew her hands back and ran them through her own hair, trying to tug the stress out of her scalp.
“Tayel!” Jace cried. Light footsteps echoed from the corridor.
He arrived at the cockpit unscathed, his wing still held at ninety degrees in his sling. His eyes widened at the sight of her.
“Jace! Can you bring me the med kit?” Tayel asked.
“Why? Are you okay?” Another dull explosion rattled the ship, and he took hold of the archway. “Did something happen?”