Starfall (Starflight #2)(49)

“That would explain a lot,” Renny said. “Everyone go offline and change course. Let’s see if that helps.”

It didn’t help.

The Origin continued its relentless pursuit of the shuttle, no matter how well Doran concealed it. Soon it became clear there was no hiding from the ship. Or running from it—not with that much thruster power.

“We need a new plan,” Doran said. “I’m almost out of fuel.”

Kane swore through the com-link. “What we need is a weapon.”

“I’m fresh out of laser cannons,” Renny told them, “but I’ve got a pistol for each hand. Maybe it’s time to take this fight to the ground.”

Kane thought back to the bomb the Origin had dropped out of its waste chute. Whether in the air or on the soil, they didn’t stand a chance against the ship’s firepower. He patted his chest to make sure the jet pack straps were still fastened. “Renny, let me try something first.”

“Like what?”

Kane didn’t want to say it aloud, in case Fleece was listening. “How many hits can the Banshee take?”

“Depends on where they land.”

“Maneuver behind Doran and block as much pulse fire as you can. On my mark, we’ll all shift due west.” When nobody objected, he shouted, “Now!”

Three vessels simultaneously shifted to the west: the Banshee, its shuttle, and the Origin. All except for Kane, who veered east on a collision course with the largest ship. Maybe he didn’t have a pulse cannon, but he had a missile in the form of a brand-new Hypersonic Deluxe.

“What’re you doing?” Renny demanded. “Turn around!”

Kane fisted the wheel and watched the Origin grow larger as he approached it with blinding speed. He stayed above the line of fire until he was near enough to make out the mammoth bolts along the ship’s hull, then he darted toward the cannon mounted at its underbelly.

“Stand down,” Renny yelled. “Kane, that’s an order!”

Kane wasn’t listening. He was too busy mirroring the Origin’s final swerve as Fleece tried to avoid the collision. Kane aimed his shuttle directly at the pulse cannon at the exact moment its barrel swiveled toward him, glowing red and preparing to blast.

Locking the engine at full power, he punched the Eject button and closed his eyes as he flung backward into the air. Whiplash wrenched his neck, but he didn’t hesitate to turn on his jet pack. Its thrusters roared, and he rocketed away from the ship as his shuttle struck the cannon with a deafening blast.

Heat nipped at the back of his neck. He glanced over one shoulder to find the belly of the ship engulfed in flames. There was only one way to extinguish a fire that large, and clearly Fleece knew it, because he pointed the Origin’s nose at the sky and took off like a shot. With full thrusters, it headed toward the atmosphere, where the lack of oxygen would choke the flames. Kane hadn’t destroyed the ship, but he’d definitely put it out of commission for a while.

Once the crew had assembled on the ground, Renny smacked Kane upside the head and then pulled him into a hug. “You just earned two weeks’ bathroom detail. Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

Doran glanced at a fragment of the shuttle’s wing that had fallen in the grass. He let out a low whistle. “Was that a Hypersonic Deluxe?”

Kane saluted the wreckage. “May she rest in peace.”

“More like pieces,” Doran quipped. “How many shuttles have you wrecked now?”

“Two. Both times saving your pretty carcass.”

“My pretty carcass thanks you.”

“Me too.” Solara strode around her boyfriend to give Kane a peck on the cheek. “By the way, we have a lot to tell you. You’re not going to believe what we found out at the settlement.”

After the events of today, Kane would believe just about anything. But before they went any further, they had to figure out who was feeding information to Fleece. He noticed that Arabelle hadn’t joined them. “Where’s Arabelle?”

Renny glanced toward the Banshee. “She’s lying down with a headache. I think coming close to Fleece really shook her up.”

Right, Kane thought. Or maybe she’s the one who tipped him off.

The look Doran delivered said he agreed.

“Now for the hard part,” Renny said, eyes smiling behind his glasses. “Telling General Jordan you ruined one of his toys.”





By the next morning, the scent of scorched earth had faded enough for Cassia to detect more pleasant notes in the air, like lemongrass and pine, but nothing could erase the ringing in her ears from the blast. She faced the rising sun and tried to focus instead on its warmth. She would miss this when the Banshee departed and her only source of heat came from a UV bulb designed to prevent transport madness.

“Ready to go?” Kane asked from the Banshee’s boarding ramp. He peered at her above the crate he carried, the last of the local cargo Renny had contracted to deliver. “After I strap this down, it’s time for liftoff.”

For the hundredth time, she searched his mannerisms for a hint of guilt or a trace of duplicity, anything to confirm that Jordan’s accusations might be true. But he moved with the same easy gait as always.

“What?” he asked when he caught her staring.