Chapter 9 · The Lifeboat They Left

The shot hit before Senna got the name out.

I slammed the stick left and the cargo shuttle screamed like it wanted to come apart. The first round punched the starboard panel instead of us. Heat rolled through the deck. My hurt leg lit up like somebody had jammed a nail in it.

"Hold on," I said, which was dumb, because nobody was holding anything. "Don't you dare freeze."

Senna was already in the copilot strap, jaw locked, one hand on the override. The dock clamp she'd popped last second still showed red on the board. We were loose. We were also a fat target.

The bigger ship didn't bother with a hail. Second shot scraped our belly. Alarms stacked. Echo-7's voice came through the cabin speaker in that dead-mentor tone I was starting to hate.

"Port thruster is bleeding. If you keep flying like a drunk, they will not miss again."

"Talk later," I said. "Or don't."

I kicked us under a freight stack that was never meant to hide a shuttle. Sparks sheeted off the hull. Senna cut the running lights without asking. For half a second I almost thanked her. Then I remembered the dock lock.