He took a shot at an alien fighter, then gave chase ... but the alien pilot rapidly outpaced him, then flipped around and came darting back.  Kurt braced himself, allowed the computers to take the shot as soon as it became possible, then yanked his starfighter to one side.  Warning lights blinked up as plasma blasts flashed past his position, but none of them managed to score a hit.  The alien pilot wasn't so lucky.  A direct hit smashed his starfighter to atoms.

“Good shot, boss,” Gladys called.  “A little help over here, perhaps?”

Kurt nodded, barking orders as he flipped his starfighter around and moved to her assistance.  The aliens were taking ruthless advantage of their numerical superiority, ganging up on the human pilots and forcing them to scatter.  Kurt drove at one alien craft and had the satisfaction of seeing its pilot jumping out of the way, then broke through to cover Gladys as she turned to make the run back to the carrier.

Clever bastards, he thought, sourly.  The aliens knew the human pilots needed to reload, so they were trying to make it impossible for them to return to the carrier.  He ordered Beta Squadron to cover the incoming fighters, but he was rapidly running out of pilots with loaded weapons.  The entire wing was running low on ammunition.

“Alpha and Gamma, prepare to return,” he ordered.  Both squadrons were low, but most of the pilots still had some ammunition left.  “Let them come close before you open fire.”

He felt a moment of unwilling admiration for the alien pilots as they streaked to block their path back to the human carrier.  They’d already picked off the point defence weapons covering the landing deck, allowing themselves to lurk there and pick off human starfighters trying to land.  It was clever, he admitted, although they weren't trying to fire into the carrier.  The armour would prevent a series of explosions that would destroy the ship, but they could easily render the landing bay effectively useless.  Or were they more interested in picking off the starfighters?

Kindred, he thought.  Successful starfighter pilots were neither the wild untamed dogs the movies made them out to be or slavishly obedient servants of the military.  It was strange to realise that they might have something in common with the alien pilots ...

“Fire,” he ordered.

Caught by surprise, five alien starfighters were picked off before they even realised that their intended prey was far from toothless.  The remainder scattered, just long enough to allow the human pilots to land and rush through the reloading cycle.  Kurt slumped in his seat as the ground crew went to work, feeling utterly exhausted.  They were in deep trouble and it was far from over.  He’d have to go back out within moments ...

He looked over at Rose’s starfighter, then cursed himself angrily.  Whatever else happened, he wanted her to survive ... and that was the kind of emotion he could not allow.