I was trying to seem brave and daring in the face of this attack, but the truth was, I was scared out of my goddamn mind. The sight of all those enemy ships arranged in front of us like a wall made my stomach backflip. All I could think about was how long I'd survive if the Wyvern exploded – whether the blast would kill me instantly, or if I'd be plunged into the endless cold and darkness of space, gasping for air where there was none, feeling my eyeballs ice over and burst from their sockets...
I shook my head, trying to clear it. No time for that now.
“'Cowards die a thousand deaths,'” I quoted under my breath. “'The valiant never taste of death but once.'”
Dashel turned to look at me, clearly impressed, as though he were seeing me for the first time. “That's quite profound. On your planet, were you some sort of warrior-poet?”
“No. I was...”
Well, what had I been? At the time, even I hadn't really known. As a kid, I'd always gotten high grades without ever needing to work hard or study. I applied to a college with open enrollment so I wouldn't have to fret about whether I'd get in, then spent four years coasting along as an English major without ever choosing a specific focus. When graduation came and I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, I went to grad school for English Lit, even though I never had any intention of writing or teaching.
My parents never pressed me – they just sat back and let me choose my own path, figuring it would eventually have to lead me somewhere. Then one day, they died in a car crash, leaving me to wonder what ambitions or expectations they'd ever had for me, if any.
And even marrying Daniel...
Hadn't that been a way of taking the path of least resistance for me too? Yes, I'd loved him, but he was so easy, so low maintenance. He never judged me for my lack of ambition or real goals. He was a talented engineer with excellent prospects, so if it had come down to it, he could've easily supported both of us if I'd never gotten around to deciding on a career of my own. There was no pressure that went with being married to him, no expectations to live up to.
In fact, the only damn thing I'd ever truly worked to achieve in my life was the collar around my neck.
“...I suppose I hadn't decided on what I was going to be yet,” I said. “Somehow, I just assumed the universe would figure it all out for me. And I guess it did, when that Pax vessel poached us off Earth while we were having a picnic.”
Dashel tilted his head. “'Us?' The man from the photograph? Was he...your mate?”
I nodded. “Daniel. He's dead now.”
“I see. My previous mate died tragically as well.”
“I hate to interrupt these fascinating tales of your personal lives,” Ranel snarled, “but we're almost in range of the Moset fleet, and there are too many of them for us to repel or destroy.”
“We don't have to defeat all of them,” Dashel said. “Just enough to buy some time.”
“We may as well set a course for the center of the nearest black hole,” the helmsman mumbled. “As methods of suicide go, it would be quicker and less painful.”
“Enough of that cowardly talk!” Dashel roared, springing up from his command chair. “We are Hielsrane! We are the great dragons of the universe, and none can stand against our terrible fury! Now target the biggest Moset ship you can find and open fire! Full spread – disruptors and solar charges! Let's breathe some fire on these bastards!”
The command crew stared at him, wide-eyed. Even Ranel looked impressed.
The helmsman straightened in his seat, hitting the keys on his console with newfound pride and purpose. “Yes, sir!”
The Wyvern released a fierce barrage at the lead Moset ship. Its forward shielding buckled, and it withdrew like a wounded animal. True to form, a pair of smaller fighters screamed in on us from either side of it, like the claws of a vicious beast. Their attack pattern was sharp and coordinated, as they pelted our port and starboard sides simultaneously with what felt like dozens of explosive rounds.
“Shields to seventy percent,” the helmsman reported anxiously. “Should we return fire?”
“No,” Dashel replied. “Keep pressing our advantage with that lead ship. Don't give it a chance to regroup.”
“But the fighters—”
“—can do less damage than that thing will if it gets its offensive capabilities working again,” Dashel cut him off. “We'll have to trust our shields to protect us from the fighters for now, and hope they hold up.”
The helmsman seemed uncertain, but he obeyed Dashel's orders. We surged forward toward the lead ship, ignoring the fighter craft as they swooped and darted around us, hurling laser blasts and bombs against our shields. The Wyvern rocked and spun but kept moving toward its prey relentlessly, punching the bulky vessel in the nose over and over with golden beams from the solar cannons on its undercarriage.
“Shields are down to thirty-five percent,” the helmsman said. “Another pass from those things, and they'll collapse for sure.”
“What's the status of the lead ship?” Dashel asked.
“Their shields are at five percent and dropping fast!” The helmsman's voice went up, excited. “And it looks like we hit the primary and secondary conduits that power their weapons systems!”
“Looks like their only choices are to retreat, or stay and die,” Ranel observed smugly.
Dashel shook his head grimly. “No. That mangy pack of rabid weasels won't be scurrying back to their hole today. Target the biggest gap in their shields you can find and give them everything we've got.”
There was another massive blast from our cannon, and it struck the lead ship dead center, blowing it to glittering specks.
Before we could celebrate our victory, the smaller fighters closed in from the front, coming right at us with
