Cassandra's Tears: Issue #8

Penny waited, arms crossed, in the cold holding cell. Her foot tapped a beat on the floor. Six hours and fifteen minutes passed since guards dumped her in this chair.

The lock on the door thudded before it screeched open. An officer entered and Penny snapped to attention. She couldn’t identify any unit or division designation among the medals and bars. His tag said Darrow. He barely acknowledged her, his attention keenly focused on the files scrolling across the Glas in his hand.

“At ease.” Darrow slid into the seat. Penny sat down. After a few more moments, he laid the Glas on the table and lifted his crystal blue eyes to look at her. “Quite a spot of trouble you’re in, Lieutenant.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“Sure.”

“First of all, what the hell did you do to my rig? You have no idea how long it took me to put that thing together so it better be fixed by the time I get out of here. Second, the Cassandra project was decommissioned like sixty years ago, so why are you wasting your time grilling me about ancient history instead of asking yourself why a Vanduul raid was so interested in obtaining outdated tech?”

Darrow was lost for words but Penny was just getting started.
* * * * *
Cal Mason was also in a spot of trouble. Handcuffed in the cargo hold of the Phoenix, his death sentence had just been issued.

“You should’ve taken my offer, Mason.” Sasha said and headed back toward the pilot chair, “It would’ve been easier on everyone.”

Nesser looked between Sasha and Trunk, obvious a little uncomfortable about this whole cold-blooded murder thing. Instead of saying anything, he just walked away.

“Not me. I got no problem tossing people like you in the void.” Trunk hissed and shoved Cal toward the airlock. Cal saw something in a toolbox on the starboard wall that looked promising. Now he just had to get over there…

“I’ll bet you don’t. Saves you the embarrassment of losing in a fair fight.”

“You serious, little man?” Trunk chuckled. Cal turned around and got right in Trunk’s face.

“Sure. I heard the only survivors on Cathcart were the ones that hid like cowards.” Cal said, although he thought he went a little far with that one. Apparently, Trunk did too. He shoved Cal, hard.

Cal stumbled back and slammed into the starboard wall. His fingers found what they were looking for.

“You know, I think the airlock might be a little too quick.” Trunk said as he slowly approached. One hand snatched Cal’s throat and pinned him against the wall. The other drew a blade.

“Come on, man. Don’t…” Nesser popped out from the bunks, attracted by the noise.

“Yeah Trunk…” Cal snapped the cuff around Trunk’s wrist, click, “don’t.”

Trunk’s eyes went wide. He swung the knife. It was clumsy, hurried. Cal dodged the attack and swung him into the wall. The blade clattered to the deck.

Sasha sprinted from the pilot’s chair, weapon drawn. She drew up on Cal just as he came up with the knife to Trunk’s throat. She froze. A couple moments of silence let the stand-off settle in.

“What you think you’re doing there, Mason?” Sasha said, slowly advancing. Cal glanced back at Nesser who had grabbed his gun too.

“Cordially declining the airlock.” Cal divided his attention between the pair of guns on him. He wasn’t as concerned with Nesser shooting but still, a gun’s a gun.

“Think this through. You don’t really have many options. You kill him, you die a second later.” Sasha glanced at Nesser. She doubted she’d be able to count on him. “And it’s a little inhospitable outside.”

“Maybe.” Cal kicked the control panel on the floor. The housing for the P52 slid open. Sasha fumed. Trunk coughed and struggled but the knife put him back in line. The P52’s cockpit opened.

“You won’t stand a chance in that thing.”

“I do love a challenge.” Cal grinned. He moved beside the cockpit and hit the button for the housing to start closing. He leaned toward Trunk. “I’m sorry about the Cathcart thing. To be honest, I thought that campaign was disgraceful.”

Cal shoved Trunk toward Sasha, completely cutting off her shot, and dropped into the cockpit a second before the housing closed completely. He opened the outer doors and quickly powered up the ship. It hummed to life. Cal sighed, relieved that they maintained this ship too.

Sasha raced back to the cockpit to lock down the outer doors but it was too late. Massive thuds echoed through the ship as the P52 disengaged. She slid into the pilot’s seat and fixed the Phoenix into attack position. Trunk walked up behind her, rubbing his wrists.

“Get on the turret.” Trunk hesitated until Sasha glared at him.

Cal took a second to take in his position. He was in Banu territory, about a half-hour burn back to the traffic heading into the jump-point. His screens lit up as the Phoenix launched a spread of missiles.

Cal flashed his engines. He rerouted power from the guns to boost his speed. She was half correct about the P52. While it doesn’t have the firepower to hurt the Phoenix, it’s got agility. Cal weaved around the missiles. The swiftness stirred his blood. The missiles cut around and reacquired. The Phoenix’s turret unleashed a barrage of cannon shots.

Cal corkscrewed through the shots and punched straight toward the Phoenix. The missiles screamed after him. Sasha knew what he was up to, dove and cut the engine. The missiles stayed locked on Cal. Trunk tracked him with the turret. One shot blasted a missile.

Cal feverishly re-calibrated the pilot-assist. Too many features were set on auto. He liked the control. He needed it to be able to open this bird up.

The Phoenix swung up behind him. Cal looked up. He was set to go. The P52’s engines rumbled with the added power and screamed forward. The Phoenix unleashed another volley. Laser blasts streaked past Cal. He put shields back and weaved around, trying to put the rockets in the line of fire. A neutron shot clipped another missile, which tumbled off course then exploded.

Cal got some distance on the Phoenix and kept the throttle max.
* * * * *
Aboard the Phoenix, Sasha was losing patience. The P52 proved to be almost impossible to hit. Her tracking computers got tripped up as it twisted and tumbled through the air.

“He’s going to hit that traffic.” Trunk said over comms.

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have a jump-drive.” She replied and rerouted the ship’s power to give the engines a boost, “and he’ll run out of fuel in ten minutes.”

“Got some company.”

Sasha looked over. Some Banu Militia circled but kept their distance. Probably there to make sure the chaos was contained.

“Check your shots, we’ll be fine.” Sasha shifted her focus back to Cal. She took a calming breath and gave herself to the controls. In her zone, she matched Cal’s wild flight moves beat for beat. Trunk snapped off shots to pen Cal in.

The two ships screamed through space. One by one, the missiles hit their range limit and exploded. Sasha kept a sustained stream of fire. More and more energy blasts connected, chipping away the shields of the small fighter. Trunk nailed the P52 with a solid hit. The shields couldn’t stop the shot, which punched into the engine.

Cal Mason zipped past the jump-point and looped up. Sasha stayed on him. The damaged engine decreased his speed enough for her targeting computers to get a lock. She kept the Phoenix on course. Her finger hovered over the trigger.
* * * * *
The P52’s cockpit was getting pretty ragged. That last shot should have cut his ship in half but somehow it held up. Cal knew he had one shot at this. He glanced at the jump-point. A Caterpillar was just about to cross.

Cal hit a retro-burn, twisted and dove back down. The Phoenix swept past him. He punched it and fell in behind the Caterpillar.

The jump-point opened and the Caterpillar disappeared inside.

“This is really dumb.” He muttered and dove into the jump-point through the wake before it closed.
* * * * *
Sasha watched the P52 disappear into the jump-point in stunned silence.

“Um…” Trunk said over the open comm.

“Yeah.” It seemed like an awful lot to go through to just kill yourself.

Finally, Sasha turned the Phoenix and burned away. They had places to be.

. . . TO BE CONTINUED

Penny wartete, die Arme verschränkt, in der Kältekammer. Ihr Fuß klopfte einen Schlag auf den Boden. Sechs Stunden und fünfzehn Minuten vergingen, seit die Wachen sie in diesen Stuhl geworfen haben.

Das Schloss an der Tür dröhnte, bevor es aufschrie. Ein Offizier trat ein und Penny erregte Aufmerksamkeit. Sie konnte keine Einheiten- oder Bereichsbezeichnung zwischen den Medaillen und Stäben identifizieren. Auf seinem Schild stand Darrow. Er erkannte sie kaum an, seine Aufmerksamkeit konzentrierte sich stark auf die Akten, die in seiner Hand über das Glas scrollen.

" Rühren." Darrow rutschte in den Sitz. Penny setzte sich hin. Nach ein paar weiteren Augenblicken legte er das Glas auf den Tisch und hob seine kristallblauen Augen an, um sie anzusehen. "Sie stecken in ziemlichen Schwierigkeiten, Lieutenant."

"Erlaubnis, frei zu sprechen, Sir."

" Sicher."

"Zuerst einmal, was zum Teufel hast du mit meiner Ausrüstung gemacht? Du hast keine Ahnung, wie lange ich gebraucht habe, um das Ding zusammenzusetzen, damit es besser repariert werden kann, wenn ich hier rauskomme. Zweitens wurde das Cassandra-Projekt vor sechzig Jahren stillgelegt, also warum verschwendest du deine Zeit damit, mich über die alte Geschichte zu informieren, anstatt dich zu fragen, warum ein Vanduul-Raubzug so daran interessiert war, veraltete Technologien zu erhalten?"

Darrow war sprachlos, aber Penny hatte gerade erst angefangen.
* * * * *
Cal Mason war auch in Schwierigkeiten. Im Frachtraum des Phönix in Handschellen gefesselt, war gerade sein Todesurteil verkündet worden.

"Du hättest mein Angebot annehmen sollen, Mason." Sasha sagte und ging zurück zum Pilotstuhl: "Es wäre für alle einfacher gewesen."

Nesser sah zwischen Sasha und Trunk hin und her, offensichtlich ein wenig unbehaglich bei dieser ganzen kaltblütigen Mordsache. Anstatt etwas zu sagen, ging er einfach weg.

"Nicht ich. Ich habe kein Problem damit, Leute wie dich in die Leere zu werfen." Der Kofferraum zischte und schob Cal zur Luftschleuse. Cal sah etwas in einem Werkzeugkasten an der Steuerbordwand, das vielversprechend aussah. Jetzt musste er einfach da rüberkommen.....

"Ich wette, das tust du nicht. Das erspart dir die Peinlichkeit, in einem fairen Kampf zu verlieren."

"Ist das dein Ernst, kleiner Mann?" Der Kofferraum kicherte. Cal drehte sich um und bekam direkt in Trunks Gesicht.

"Sicher. Ich habe gehört, dass die einzigen Überlebenden auf Cathcart diejenigen waren, die sich wie Feiglinge versteckt haben." sagte Cal, obwohl er dachte, dass er damit ein wenig weit gegangen wäre. Anscheinend hat Trunk das auch getan. Er schubste Cal, hart.

Cal stolperte zurück und knallte gegen die Steuerbordwand. Seine Finger fanden, was sie suchten.

"Weißt du, ich denke, die Luftschleuse könnte etwas zu schnell sein." sagte Kofferraum, als er sich langsam näherte. Eine Hand schnappte sich Cals Kehle und hängte ihn an die Wand. Der andere zog eine Klinge.

"Komm schon, Mann. Nicht...." Nesser sprang aus den Kojen, angezogen vom Lärm.

"Ja, Kofferraum...." Cal schnappte sich die Manschette um Trunks Handgelenk, klickte, "nicht".

Die Augen des Rumpfes gingen weit. Er schwang das Messer. Es war ungeschickt, schnell. Cal wich dem Angriff aus und schwang ihn in die Wand. Die Klinge klapperte auf dem Deck.

Sasha sprintete vom Pilotenstuhl, mit gezogener Waffe. Sie zog sich auf Cal ein, als er mit dem Messer an Trunks Hals kam. Sie erstarrte. Ein paar Momente der Stille ließen den Stillstand einkehren.

"Was glaubst du, was du da tust, Mason?" sagte Sasha und rückte langsam vor. Cal blickte zurück zu Nesser, der auch seine Waffe genommen hatte.

" Ich lehne die Luftschleuse herzlich ab." Cal teilte seine Aufmerksamkeit zwischen dem Waffenpaar auf ihn. Er war nicht so sehr mit dem Schießen von Nesser beschäftigt, aber trotzdem ist eine Waffe eine Waffe.

"Denke darüber nach. Du hast nicht wirklich viele Möglichkeiten. Du tötest ihn, du stirbst eine Sekunde später." Sasha blickte zu Nesser. Sie bezweifelte, dass sie sich auf ihn verlassen konnte. "Und es ist ein wenig unwirtlich draußen."

" Vielleicht." Cal hat das Bedienfeld auf dem Boden getreten. Das Gehäuse für die P52 ist aufgeschoben. Sasha hat geraucht. Der Kofferraum hustete und kämpfte, aber das Messer brachte ihn wieder in die Reihe. Das Cockpit der P52 wurde geöffnet.

"Du wirst keine Chance in diesem Ding haben."

"Ich liebe eine Herausforderung." Cal grinste. Er bewegte sich neben dem Cockpit und drückte den Knopf, damit sich das Gehäuse schließen konnte. Er lehnte sich in Richtung Stamm. "Es tut mir leid wegen der Cathcart-Sache. Um ehrlich zu sein, dachte ich, diese Kampagne sei eine Schande."

Cal schob den Kofferraum in Richtung Sasha, schnitt ihren Schuss komplett ab und fiel eine Sekunde lang ins Cockpit, bevor das Gehäuse vollständig geschlossen wurde. Er öffnete die Außentüren und trieb das Schiff schnell an. Es brummte zum Leben. Cal seufzte, erleichtert, dass sie auch dieses Schiff beibehielten.

Sasha raste zurück ins Cockpit, um die Außentüren abzuschließen, aber es war zu spät. Massive Schläge hallten durch das Schiff, als die P52 auskuppelte. Sie rutschte in den Pilotsitz und fixierte den Phoenix in Angriffsposition. Der Kofferraum ging hinter ihr her und rieb sich die Handgelenke.

"Auf den Turm." Der Kofferraum zögerte, bis Sasha ihn anstarrte.

Cal brauchte eine Sekunde, um seine Position einzunehmen. Er befand sich auf dem Gebiet von Banu, etwa eine halbe Stunde zurück zum Verkehr, der auf den Sprungpunkt zusteuerte. Seine Bildschirme leuchteten auf, als der Phoenix eine Reihe von Raketen startete.

Cal hat seine Motoren gezündet. Er lenkte die Energie von den Kanonen um, um seine Geschwindigkeit zu erhöhen. Sie hatte mit der P52 halbwegs Recht. Während er nicht die Feuerkraft hat, um den Phönix zu verletzen, hat er Beweglichkeit. Cal hat sich um die Raketen geschlungen. Die Schnelligkeit rührte sein Blut. Die Raketen schnitten herum und nahmen sie wieder ein. Der Turm des Phönix löste eine Flut von Kanonenschüssen aus.

Cal Korkenzieher zog sich durch die Schüsse und schlug direkt auf den Phönix zu. Die Raketen schrien ihm nach. Sasha wusste, was er vorhatte, tauchte und unterbrach den Motor. Die Raketen blieben auf Cal gerichtet. Der Kofferraum verfolgte ihn mit dem Turm. Ein einziger Schuss schoss eine Rakete hoch.

Cal hat den Pilot-Assistenten fieberhaft rekalibriert. Zu viele Funktionen wurden auf Auto eingestellt. Er mochte die Kontrolle. Er brauchte es, um diesen Vogel öffnen zu können.

Der Phönix schwang sich hinter ihn. Cal sah auf. Er war bereit zu gehen. Die Motoren der P52 rumpelten mit der zusätzlichen Leistung und schrien nach vorne. Der Phönix entfesselte einen weiteren Salve. Laserblitze strömten an Cal vorbei. Er legte die Schilde zurück und webte herum und versuchte, die Raketen in die Schusslinie zu bringen. Ein Neutronenschuss kappte eine weitere Rakete, die vom Kurs abrutschte und dann explodierte.

Cal hat etwas Abstand zum Phoenix genommen und das Gaspedal maximal gehalten.
* * * * *
An Bord des Phoenix verlor Sasha die Geduld. Die P52 erwies sich als fast unmöglich zu treffen. Ihre Ortungscomputer wurden ausgelöst, als sie sich verdrehten und durch die Luft stürzten.

"Er wird den Verkehr überfallen." Der Kofferraum sagte über Funk.

"Es spielt keine Rolle. Er hat keinen Sprungantrieb." Sie antwortete und leitete die Kraft des Schiffes um, um den Motoren einen Schub zu geben, "und ihm geht in zehn Minuten der Treibstoff aus".

"Ich habe etwas Gesellschaft."

Sasha sah sich um. Einige Banu Milizen kreisten, hielten aber Abstand. Wahrscheinlich da, um das Chaos einzudämmen.

"Überprüfen Sie Ihre Schüsse, es wird alles gut." Sasha verlagerte ihren Fokus zurück zu Cal. Sie holte einen beruhigenden Atemzug und gab sich den Kontrollen hin. In ihrer Zone passte sie zu Cals wilden Flugbewegungen Beat für Beat. Der Kofferraum schoss Schüsse ab, um Cal einzusperren.

Die beiden Schiffe schrien durch den Raum. Einer nach dem anderen erreichten die Raketen ihre Reichweite und explodierten. Sasha hielt einen anhaltenden Feuerstrom aufrecht. Immer mehr Energieexplosionen verbanden sich und zerstörten die Schilde des kleinen Kämpfers. Der Kofferraum hat die P52 mit einem soliden Schlag genagelt. Die Schilde konnten den Schuss, der in den Motor einschlug, nicht stoppen.

Cal Mason schloss mit einem Reißverschluss über den Sprungpunkt hinaus und legte eine Schleife auf. Sasha blieb bei ihm. Der beschädigte Motor verringerte seine Geschwindigkeit so weit, dass sie auf Computer zielte, um eine Sperre zu erhalten. Sie hielt den Phönix auf Kurs. Ihr Finger schwebte über dem Abzug.
* * * * *
Das Cockpit der P52 wurde ziemlich zerzaust. Dieser letzte Schuss hätte sein Schiff in zwei Hälften schneiden sollen, aber irgendwie hielt es stand. Cal wusste, dass er nur einen Versuch hatte. Er blickte auf den Sprungpunkt. Eine Raupe war gerade dabei, zu überqueren.

Cal traf eine Retro-Verbrennung, verdreht und tauchte wieder nach unten. Der Phönix fegte an ihm vorbei. Er schlug es und fiel hinter die Raupe.

Der Sprungpunkt öffnete sich und die Raupe verschwand im Inneren.

"Das ist wirklich dumm." Er murmelte und sprang in den Sprungpunkt durch die Totenwache, bevor er sich schloss.
* * * * *
Sasha beobachtete, wie die P52 in betäubter Stille im Sprungpunkt verschwand.

" Ähm...." Trunk sagte über die offene Kommunikation.

" Ja." Es schien eine Menge zu durchmachen, um sich einfach umzubringen.

Schließlich drehte Sasha den Phönix um und brannte weg. Sie hatten Orte, an denen sie sein mussten.






. . . WIRD FORTGESETZT

Penny waited, arms crossed, in the cold holding cell. Her foot tapped a beat on the floor. Six hours and fifteen minutes passed since guards dumped her in this chair.

The lock on the door thudded before it screeched open. An officer entered and Penny snapped to attention. She couldn’t identify any unit or division designation among the medals and bars. His tag said Darrow. He barely acknowledged her, his attention keenly focused on the files scrolling across the Glas in his hand.

“At ease.” Darrow slid into the seat. Penny sat down. After a few more moments, he laid the Glas on the table and lifted his crystal blue eyes to look at her. “Quite a spot of trouble you’re in, Lieutenant.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“Sure.”

“First of all, what the hell did you do to my rig? You have no idea how long it took me to put that thing together so it better be fixed by the time I get out of here. Second, the Cassandra project was decommissioned like sixty years ago, so why are you wasting your time grilling me about ancient history instead of asking yourself why a Vanduul raid was so interested in obtaining outdated tech?”

Darrow was lost for words but Penny was just getting started.
* * * * *
Cal Mason was also in a spot of trouble. Handcuffed in the cargo hold of the Phoenix, his death sentence had just been issued.

“You should’ve taken my offer, Mason.” Sasha said and headed back toward the pilot chair, “It would’ve been easier on everyone.”

Nesser looked between Sasha and Trunk, obvious a little uncomfortable about this whole cold-blooded murder thing. Instead of saying anything, he just walked away.

“Not me. I got no problem tossing people like you in the void.” Trunk hissed and shoved Cal toward the airlock. Cal saw something in a toolbox on the starboard wall that looked promising. Now he just had to get over there…

“I’ll bet you don’t. Saves you the embarrassment of losing in a fair fight.”

“You serious, little man?” Trunk chuckled. Cal turned around and got right in Trunk’s face.

“Sure. I heard the only survivors on Cathcart were the ones that hid like cowards.” Cal said, although he thought he went a little far with that one. Apparently, Trunk did too. He shoved Cal, hard.

Cal stumbled back and slammed into the starboard wall. His fingers found what they were looking for.

“You know, I think the airlock might be a little too quick.” Trunk said as he slowly approached. One hand snatched Cal’s throat and pinned him against the wall. The other drew a blade.

“Come on, man. Don’t…” Nesser popped out from the bunks, attracted by the noise.

“Yeah Trunk…” Cal snapped the cuff around Trunk’s wrist, click, “don’t.”

Trunk’s eyes went wide. He swung the knife. It was clumsy, hurried. Cal dodged the attack and swung him into the wall. The blade clattered to the deck.

Sasha sprinted from the pilot’s chair, weapon drawn. She drew up on Cal just as he came up with the knife to Trunk’s throat. She froze. A couple moments of silence let the stand-off settle in.

“What you think you’re doing there, Mason?” Sasha said, slowly advancing. Cal glanced back at Nesser who had grabbed his gun too.

“Cordially declining the airlock.” Cal divided his attention between the pair of guns on him. He wasn’t as concerned with Nesser shooting but still, a gun’s a gun.

“Think this through. You don’t really have many options. You kill him, you die a second later.” Sasha glanced at Nesser. She doubted she’d be able to count on him. “And it’s a little inhospitable outside.”

“Maybe.” Cal kicked the control panel on the floor. The housing for the P52 slid open. Sasha fumed. Trunk coughed and struggled but the knife put him back in line. The P52’s cockpit opened.

“You won’t stand a chance in that thing.”

“I do love a challenge.” Cal grinned. He moved beside the cockpit and hit the button for the housing to start closing. He leaned toward Trunk. “I’m sorry about the Cathcart thing. To be honest, I thought that campaign was disgraceful.”

Cal shoved Trunk toward Sasha, completely cutting off her shot, and dropped into the cockpit a second before the housing closed completely. He opened the outer doors and quickly powered up the ship. It hummed to life. Cal sighed, relieved that they maintained this ship too.

Sasha raced back to the cockpit to lock down the outer doors but it was too late. Massive thuds echoed through the ship as the P52 disengaged. She slid into the pilot’s seat and fixed the Phoenix into attack position. Trunk walked up behind her, rubbing his wrists.

“Get on the turret.” Trunk hesitated until Sasha glared at him.

Cal took a second to take in his position. He was in Banu territory, about a half-hour burn back to the traffic heading into the jump-point. His screens lit up as the Phoenix launched a spread of missiles.

Cal flashed his engines. He rerouted power from the guns to boost his speed. She was half correct about the P52. While it doesn’t have the firepower to hurt the Phoenix, it’s got agility. Cal weaved around the missiles. The swiftness stirred his blood. The missiles cut around and reacquired. The Phoenix’s turret unleashed a barrage of cannon shots.

Cal corkscrewed through the shots and punched straight toward the Phoenix. The missiles screamed after him. Sasha knew what he was up to, dove and cut the engine. The missiles stayed locked on Cal. Trunk tracked him with the turret. One shot blasted a missile.

Cal feverishly re-calibrated the pilot-assist. Too many features were set on auto. He liked the control. He needed it to be able to open this bird up.

The Phoenix swung up behind him. Cal looked up. He was set to go. The P52’s engines rumbled with the added power and screamed forward. The Phoenix unleashed another volley. Laser blasts streaked past Cal. He put shields back and weaved around, trying to put the rockets in the line of fire. A neutron shot clipped another missile, which tumbled off course then exploded.

Cal got some distance on the Phoenix and kept the throttle max.
* * * * *
Aboard the Phoenix, Sasha was losing patience. The P52 proved to be almost impossible to hit. Her tracking computers got tripped up as it twisted and tumbled through the air.

“He’s going to hit that traffic.” Trunk said over comms.

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have a jump-drive.” She replied and rerouted the ship’s power to give the engines a boost, “and he’ll run out of fuel in ten minutes.”

“Got some company.”

Sasha looked over. Some Banu Militia circled but kept their distance. Probably there to make sure the chaos was contained.

“Check your shots, we’ll be fine.” Sasha shifted her focus back to Cal. She took a calming breath and gave herself to the controls. In her zone, she matched Cal’s wild flight moves beat for beat. Trunk snapped off shots to pen Cal in.

The two ships screamed through space. One by one, the missiles hit their range limit and exploded. Sasha kept a sustained stream of fire. More and more energy blasts connected, chipping away the shields of the small fighter. Trunk nailed the P52 with a solid hit. The shields couldn’t stop the shot, which punched into the engine.

Cal Mason zipped past the jump-point and looped up. Sasha stayed on him. The damaged engine decreased his speed enough for her targeting computers to get a lock. She kept the Phoenix on course. Her finger hovered over the trigger.
* * * * *
The P52’s cockpit was getting pretty ragged. That last shot should have cut his ship in half but somehow it held up. Cal knew he had one shot at this. He glanced at the jump-point. A Caterpillar was just about to cross.

Cal hit a retro-burn, twisted and dove back down. The Phoenix swept past him. He punched it and fell in behind the Caterpillar.

The jump-point opened and the Caterpillar disappeared inside.

“This is really dumb.” He muttered and dove into the jump-point through the wake before it closed.
* * * * *
Sasha watched the P52 disappear into the jump-point in stunned silence.

“Um…” Trunk said over the open comm.

“Yeah.” It seemed like an awful lot to go through to just kill yourself.

Finally, Sasha turned the Phoenix and burned away. They had places to be.

. . . TO BE CONTINUED