His fighter was handling like a pig. The sleek, deadly craft, almost an extension of his arm before, was now showing the wear and tear. He angled the controls, but the response was slow, sluggish. Even the braking thrusters were damaged, misaligned. He had to adjust each thruster pulse, struggling to stay lined up with the bay ahead. He was doing all he could, but he wasn’t going to be able to cut his velocity completely.

“Raptor to Control, I’m coming in hot. You better clear the landing area…just in case…”

“Raptor, this is control. That’s bullshit, Jake. You’re just fine. You’re the best pilot we’ve got. Now stop screwing around, and bring that thing in nice and smooth. Just like you’ve always told me you do it…”

“Roger that, Lieutenant. Nice and smooth.” Stockton smiled, and he felt the stress—fear, if he’d been willing admit that’s what it was—recede. Stara Sinclair was one of Dauntless’s launch control officers. She was also a woman who’d proven her ability to simultaneously resist and match Stockton’s usually effective charms. He’d flirted with her incessantly for the past year, and she’d given it back to him in kind, but that’s as far as it had gone.

His hand tightened on the controls as he focused on the bay ahead. He felt his hands moving, driven by instinct as much as conscious direction. He sucked in a deep breath and held it as his fighter slipped into the bay, decelerating at full thrust as he did. The normally open surface was littered with chunks of metal, and one large structural support that had collapsed and been only partially cleared. There were piles of debris on the edges of the massive room, but the larger chunks were still strewn about.

He twisted his arm one way, then the next, pulsing his positioning jets to avoid the debris, and then he braced himself as his fighter slammed into the bulkhead at the end of the bay.

His head snapped forward, a pain shooting down his neck. But otherwise, his harness had held him in place. He was covered in sweat, and his heart was pounding, but he was okay. He pulled the release, popping open the cockpit, and he climbed out of the ship…into a shower of flame retardant foam being sprayed by a damage control tech and two maintenance bots. He turned his head and closed his eyes, pausing for an instant before climbing down to the deck.

He paused and sucked in a deep breath, steadying himself, struggling to bring his usual unflappable demeanor back in place. Then he turned around…and fell back against his fighter as Stara slammed into him, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips.