But these were real aliens we were fighting—sentient beings with highly advanced technology, intent on destroying us. And we were outnumbered thousands to one. We should’ve been dead a hundred times already. Were humans really just better at war than they were, or all this time, had the aliens been throwing the game?
A volley of photon bolts nailed my shield, knocking its power down by two-thirds and snapping me out of my reverie. I shook my head to clear it, then accelerated to catch up with my father and the others. We all locked into attack formation, tearing along the ragged edge of the ice shelf, which continued to crumble and collapse into larger and larger pieces, melting rapidly under the intense heat emanating off the spinning dodecahedron above.
The Disrupter now hung about a hundred meters above the ocean’s wrinkled surface, like a diamond chandelier suspended from nothing at all. Its escort of Glaive and Wyvern Fighters continued to swarm and dive over and around it, circling it like a cloud of silver flies.
There were still more enemy fighters than I could count—so many that my AVA computer was having a hard time estimating their number, too. There appeared to be a few hundred of them now, with more circling farther out, on the periphery of the battle. And according to my tactical readout, there were thousands more enemy ships on their way—hundreds of thousands of more.
“Where are those reinforcements coming from?” Whoadie asked. “Did they stop attacking Shanghai?”
“No,” my father said. “According to the EDA command, the city has already fallen. Now they’re diverting more of their ships here. In a few minutes, the odds of us being able to destroy this thing are going to be a lot worse.”
“Then let’s get it done right now,” Debbie suggested. “No time like the present.”
“Ready to rock shit from my cockpit!” Whoadie declared. “What’s the plan, sir?”
Just then, I saw Debbie’s ship get hit by a barrage of plasma fire. One of her engines erupted in flames.
“Eject!” the rest of us all yelled over our comms. But Debbie had already beaten us to the punch. Her cockpit module shot away from the rest of the ship’s smoking fuselage like a bullet casing being ejected from a gun port. It flew upward for a few seconds, then began to arc back down toward the wrinkled surface of the icy sea below.
As I steered my Interceptor into a dive to try to go after it, Whoadie’s ship swooped in out of nowhere and caught the pod in mid-fall, using the magnetic retrieval arm slung under her ship’s nose. When the metal pod locked into place on the underside of her fuselage, she let out a cry of victory—but it was cut off in mid-yawp when a barrage of laser fire streaked across her hull, nearly hitting Debbie’s pod.
“I got you!” Whoadie cried. “I got her, General! But I don’t think I’ll be much good in a fight now.”
“Get out of here, Whoadie!” my father ordered. “Get Debbie to safety. Now!”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, firewalling her throttle. Her ship streaked away in a blur.
“And then there were three,” I muttered over the comm. “And all three of us are gonna be toast in a few seconds, too, if we stay where we are.”
“Just keep watching the birdie,” my father said as I saw his ship swoop and make another pass over the dodecahedron surface, blasting two Wyverns in the process. “According to my HUD, that shield is already pretty weak. Keep firing at it— Chén, what are you doing!”
The comm channel was drowned out by the sound of Chén, screaming “Seven!” in a voice choked with tears. Then he yelled “Six!” And then “five!”
Only then did I understand. Chén was reacting to the news of Shanghai’s destruction in the worst possible way—a nervous breakdown, right in the middle of combat. And who could blame him? He wasn’t a soldier. No one had prepared him—or any of us—for the horrors of war.
I located Chén’s ship on my tactical display and saw that he was already turning into a steep dive toward the Disrupter, with his guns apparently set to auto-fire. His shields took a direct hit and failed, and then a second later, his weapons failed, too, followed by his engines. But his ship’s momentum continued to hurtle it forward, toward the Disrupter, and on my HUD, his ship began to flash red, indicating that its reactor core had been set to overload.
Over my comlink, I heard Chén cursing and shouting in Chinese. The English translation popped up on my HUD: They killed my sister! Now I’m going to kill them!
I watched in paralyzed horror as Chén continued his dive toward the Disrupter’s spinning faceted surface, and I saw my father spiral his ship over into a sharp dive to pursue him. As Chén’s Interceptor closed in on the spinning dodecahedron, I winced and held my breath, expecting his ship to impact on its deflector shield. But a millisecond before his ship reached it, its reactor detonated, lighting up the sky.