“Noted,” he said.  The rate of alien fire was increasing, picking off missiles and inert projectiles with surprising accuracy.  “We need to keep them busy.”

Bracing himself, he altered course and zoomed towards the alien craft in a straight line for as long as he dared, around five seconds.  His spine prickled as he altered course sharply, just as a spray of plasma fire lanced through where he’d been.  Moments later, a warhead detonated close to the alien craft, blasting an EMP straight towards her hull.  The rate of plasma fire slacked rapidly, but didn't come to an end.  Their targeting, on the other hand, seemed to go entirely to hell.

“They didn't lose the big gun,” Gladys exclaimed.  “It's still charging up.”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Kurt said.  He yanked his starfighter back, then powered down towards the alien hull.  Most of the plasma cannon was embedded into the alien ship, but enough of the containment system was exposed to make it an easy target.  “Fire at will.”

The alien cannon buckled under the spray of pellets from his railgun.  Kurt watched a sudden surge of energy spike, then fade back into nothingness.  He thought, for a brief chilling moment, that they’d actually succeeded in starting a chain reaction that would take out the entire ship.  Normally, that would have let them paint an alien silhouette on their starfighters, but now it would be a disaster.  Thankfully, the aliens merely altered course as they powered down their weapons.

“They’re rebuilding their sensors,” Tom reported.  “I ...”

His voice disappeared with a sudden, terrible finality.  Kurt risked a glance at the datanet and saw that Tom had been hit, blotted out of existence in a split second.  He heard Gladys gasp in shock, then bring herself back under control.  She wanted revenge, but at least she could hold it back enough to keep flying in unison with the remaining pilots.

This, a voice said at the back of his head, is why starfighter pilots should not develop relationships with one another.

“Damn it,” he muttered.  Out loud, he barked orders.  “Regroup and attack; I say again, regroup and attack.”

***

“The launch tube is going to need a complete refurbishment,” Anderson reported.  “I’ve given orders to evacuate the section, sir; there’s no point in leaving anyone there.”

“Understood,” Ted said, absently.  On the display, the alien ship was slowly turning back towards the tramline.  They couldn't be allowed to run, but he didn't have any way to stop them without destroying the systems he needed to capture.  “Keep me informed.”

He closed the channel, then looked over at the display.  The Marines were drawing closer to their target.  Close enough to board ... and to be detected.

***