Skyward (The Skyward Series Book 1)

“This is Flight Command,” Ironsides said on my radio. “Cadet, where did you get that ship?”

“Does it matter?” I asked. “Give me a heading. Where are those Krell?”

“There are fifteen ships in that flight, girl.”

I swallowed. “Heading?”

“57-113.2-15000.”

“Right.” I redirected and punched my overburn. GravCaps engaged for the first few seconds, then I gritted my teeth as the g-forces hit me. My Poco started to rattle under the strain, even at the relatively slow speed of Mag-5. Scud. What was keeping this ship together? Spit and prayers?

“How long until they’re inside the death zone?” I asked.

“Under eight minutes,” Ironsides said. “By our projections, you’ll reach them in about two minutes.”

“Great,” I said, taking a deep breath, inching my ship up to Mag-6. I didn’t dare go faster with the amount of drag on that burned-out wing. “We might have a few more reinforcements coming. When you see them, tell them what’s happening.”

“There are more of you?” Ironsides asked.

“I hope so.” Depended on whether Arturo and the others managed to steal some ships. “I’ll just have to hold the Krell off until then. By myself. With a ship that doesn’t have a shield.”

“You don’t have a shield?”

“I have visual confirmation on the Krell,” I said, ignoring the question. “Here we go!”

Krell ships swarmed toward me. I knew there were only fifteen, but flying there—alone, unprotected—it seemed like an entire armada. I immediately cut to the side, destructors flashing all around me. I picked up at least a dozen on my tail, and my proximity warning went insane.

I pulled into a hard bank, wishing there were debris I could use for faster maneuvering. I curved around—somehow avoiding being shot—until I saw it. One slower, larger ship. Plodding along with an enormous bomb held underneath it, nearly as big as the ship itself.

“Flight Command,” I said, pushing into a dive, destructors spraying around me, “I have visual confirmation of a lifebuster.”

“Bring it down, cadet,” the admiral said immediately. “You hear me. If you get a shot, bring that ship down.”

“Affirmative,” I said, and threw myself into a spinning loop. My GravCap indicator flashed, its brief dampening effect expended, and the g-forces flattened me into the side of the cockpit and my seat.

I remained conscious—somehow—as a couple of Krell ships cut across in front of me. My instincts were to chase them down.

No. They were presenting targets to draw me away. I dodged the other direction, and the ships behind me fired an insane storm of destructors.

I wouldn’t last long in this fight. I couldn’t hold out for Arturo and the others. The Krell would finish me off before then.

I had to get to the bomber.

The Krell tried to drive me to the side, but I dodged between two of them, my ship rattling as I crossed their wakes. That didn’t normally happen; the atmospheric scoops evened out flight wakes. Mine was still working, fortunately, but was obviously in poor shape.

Teeth rattling in my skull from the shaking, I cut around more ships and focused on my goal, unleashing a barrage of destructors.

A few hit the bomber, but were absorbed by its shield, and I wasn’t close enough for an IMP. The small, strange ships that accompanied the bomber detached and flew up toward me, driving me off to the side.

I swept in a long turn, trying to ignore the fact that I was now being chased by almost two flights’ worth of enemies.

I focused on my ship. On my maneuvers.

Me, the controls, and the ship. Together, responding to …

Right.

I dodged away just before a Krell ship moved to cut me off.

They’re going to fire all out. I dove underneath a sudden, concentrated barrage.

Left. I made a sweeping turn by instinct, spinning between two enemy ships—causing them to collide.

It was uncanny. But somehow, somehow I could hear it in my mind. Somehow I knew … the commands that were being sent to the enemy ships.

I could hear them.

Judy stood quietly beside the hologram, and slowly, aides and junior admirals gathered around. By now they’d disengaged all flights from the battle for the shipyard, and had sent them streaking back toward Alta.

They’d be too slow. Even Riptide Flight, which she had ordered back earlier, was too far out. Right now, all that mattered was one speck of red among the swarm of blue. One magnificent red speck that wove between enemy attacks, somehow avoiding destruction time and time again.

Somehow, she faced overwhelming odds and survived.

“Have you ever seen flying like that before?” Rikolfr asked.

Judy nodded.

She had. In one other pilot.

I couldn’t explain it. I somehow sensed the orders that were coming from above, telling the Krell ships what to do. I could hear them … hear them processing, thinking.

It wasn’t an overwhelming edge, but it was enough. Just that little bit I needed to fly my rattling Poco in another loop, where I fired again on the bomber.

That’s five hits. I thought as I was forced back once more by the four black guardian ships. The bomber’s shield should be nearly down. Cobb’s training kicked in, warning me to be ready to over-burn away as soon as I dropped the bomber. Once the lifebuster hit the ground, the blast would …

“Spin?” It was Jorgen’s voice.

It almost kicked me out of my concentration. I spun my ship, dodging.

“Spin, is that you?” he asked. “My flightleader mentioned you were on the channel. What’s happening?”

“I’m …,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m having a blast without you. More. Krell. For. Me.”

“I’m with Riptide Flight,” Jorgen said. “We’re coming to help.”

Clever quips and bravado escaped me. “Thank you,” I whispered, sweat plastering the inside of my helmet as I tried to come around for another pass.

Red blasts descended upon me, slicing at my ship. But I could dodge them. I knew what they—

An explosion cut across my ship, blasting the tip off the nose of the Poco. Something had shot me, something I couldn’t anticipate.

My Poco rattled, nose trailing smoke, my console basically just a huge expanse of red lights. I still had maneuverability, however, and dodged to the side.

That shot. I thought. One of the black ships hit me—and I can’t hear its orders in my mind.

I rounded toward the bomber once again. I hit the triggers, and nothing happened. Scud … the destructors were on my nose. They’d been damaged in that hit.

My control sphere was rattling, threatening to go out. Exactly like Dorgo had warned.

“You have one minute until that bomber reaches the death zone, Skyward Ten,” Ironsides said softly.

I didn’t respond, fighting to keep ahead of the swarming enemies.

“If it gets past the zone,” Ironsides said, “you have full authorization to shoot it down anyway. Do you confirm, pilot?”

Lifebusters were rigged to blow if they were shot or if they hit the ground. So if I dropped that bomber once it got too close, the blast would destroy Alta, but protect Igneous.

“Confirmed,” I said, swinging around.

No weapons.

I could hear the rushing air almost as if the canopy were gone. My nose was still on fire.

Under a minute.

I gained altitude, then turned into a dive, Krell ships still swarming behind.

That bomber’s shield has to be almost out.

I pointed my nose right at the bomber down below, then I hit the overburn.

“Cadet?” Ironsides said. “Pilot, what are you doing?”

“My weapons are gone,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “I have to ram it.”

“Understood,” Ironsides whispered. “Saints’ own speed, pilot.”

“What?” Jorgen said over the line. “What? Ram it? Spin!”

I dove toward the enemy bomber.

“Spin,” Jorgen said, voice barely audible over the blaring warnings and the roar of the air around my cockpit. “Spin, you’ll die.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “But I’ll win anyway.”

I streaked right toward the ship amid a column of enemy fire. Then—at long last, pushed too far—my poor, broken ship had had enough.

The acclivity ring cut out.

My ship pulled into an unexpected dive, and I undershot the bomber, missing it. Pummeled by the winds—and no longer held up by the acclivity ring—my ship started spinning out of control.

Everything became a blur of smoke and fire.