Not Alone

[Mithra]

Line him up. Drop down, avoid those guns. Keep the Debilitators firing. Zip past, turn faster than him, get on his tail. What the! Guns, behind. Dammit, there's two. Mine! Mine! Nuke dropper fires twice. First one slams into the shields. Second misses and comes around for another try. Turn, dive, avoid guns! Get behind the second. Debilitators! Slam shields, take them down. Dropped! Zip past, drop a mine. Spin around, disruptor! The mine explodes, he's lost a gun! Incoming missile! Countermeasure!

The CSV's pilot was only too glad to leave the fight behind. That Arrow was giving the Sabres the fight of their lives. Muffled curses filtered through the comm channels as they tried again and again to pin the little ship long enough to tag it with guns. The thin man initiated the docking procedure and waited the long agonizing seconds as the little ship was pulled into Callista's hangar. Finally! He set down on the deck, waited for the bay doors to seal, and cracked the canopy. Two burly crewmen already had the cargo bay open and were unloading the new slaves. He told them to take the girl to a solitary cell. Something about her interested him.

Once all the slaves were stowed, Red ordered time to move out. The Sabres would have to fend for themselves. Callista wasn't hanging around long enough to be spotted by any patrols. They had just about reached the California jumphole when the cry came: "Vessels off the port stern!" After asking what they were, Red wished he hadn't. Rocs were about the worst trouble to run into. He grimaced and initiated the jump. He prayed they weren't going to follow.

---

Feedback