32
Parsona wasn’t the only ship leaving the stables in a hurry, or Bekkie, for that matter. Dozens of craft lifted up from all around town as crewmembers ran across Pete’s dirt lot in panic, trying to get back to their ships. Through the carboglass, Molly could hear improperly warmed thrusters screaming as neighboring starships lifted off cold. In the distance, a Navy cruiser fell through the atmosphere, glowing bright red—a sign of breached reentry panels. It disappeared over the horizon, followed by a flash of light.
“Why’re they in atmo?” Cat asked. She leaned forward from the nav chair while Scottie hovered behind, his hands on the backs of their seats.
“I don’t know,” Molly admitted. “Maybe they were trying to land, or something.”
“A cruiser?” Cat asked incredulously.
“They don’t want debris,” Scottie said. “That explains the shuttles.”
Molly avoided the crush of departing traffic and flew low, skirting the prairie as she headed out of town. There weren’t many more blips falling, but a few big ones were still in orbit.
“No debris?” Cat asked, turning to Scottie.
“For the rift. They’re shooting them down intact.”
“I think you’re right,” Molly said. “They’re somehow disabling them and knocking them out of orbit. And they’re making it look easy.”
“Poor Ryn,” Scottie said.
“I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just as safe wherever he is.”
Scottie didn’t say anything. Behind them, Molly could hear Walter arguing with Urg about which dishes went where.
“Where should we go?” Molly asked. She looked at their current course and realized she had subconsciously begun flying back toward her home village and the rift—the very last place they needed to be.
“Mount Jeffers?” Cat asked Scottie.
“Probably what everyone else is thinking. So, no.”
“We could hide out in the woods beyond Ashron,” Cat said. “There’s tons of clearings big enough to set down in. Maybe we should wait there and see if things calm back down.”
“Which way is that?” Molly asked, turning to the others.
Cat pointed through the carboglass, her face rigid. Molly followed her trembling arm, adjusting course to match the direction she was pointing, mistaking the gesture for an answer to her question.
“What the flank?” Scottie muttered, leaning forward between the two seats.
Ahead of them, descending through the atmosphere nose-down like a dropped dart, was a Navy StarCarrier.
“Holy shit,” Cat whispered.
Molly pulled back into a hover, sinking down toward the grasses.
Cowering.
The almighty bulk of the greatest class of starship ever built was descending from the heavens. Tilted slightly—falling slower than gravity warranted—the thing seemed to be straining against the inevitable, its forward thrusters raging to slow its impact. The great ship’s nose disappeared over the horizon, and then the rest of the monstrosity came to a sudden, sickening halt.
They all waited, breathless, for some cataclysmic noise to accompany the horrific fall. They watched for the ship to crumble, tip over, or maybe even explode.
It did none of those things.
Impossibly, the tail of the great StarCarrier remained in the same position. Askance. Aloft. Thrusters pointing up to the sky from which it had plummeted.
It just stood there, perfectly still. Terrible and lifeless.