Stockton knew he was being reckless, that he was pushing his ship to the edge of its capabilities, but he didn’t care. He had to get to Ice before…

He looked at the display again. Krill was trying to break free, and the enemy fighter was still hot on his tail. Stockton could see small flashes on the display, laser blasts. The attacker was shooting now.

“Damn!”

His fighter was moving toward the enemy, but he was still far out, too far for a laser shot. Still, he armed his guns. A hit at this range was improbable to the point of impossibility. But that didn’t stop his finger from closing around the firing stud.

He heard the whine of his lasers as he fired. He didn’t even know if a hit at this range would be powerful enough to damage the enemy. But he kept shooting anyway. He couldn’t just do nothing.

He watched on the scanner as the enemy ship closed, his eyes following as Krill’s ship zigzagged wildly, avoiding his pursuer’s fire, but failing to break the deadly pursuit.

I’ve got to get there…

He felt the helplessness growing, mocking him. For all his vaunted skills as a pilot, he was watching helplessly, unable to prevent the tragedy he saw unfolding before his eyes.

He stared at the screen, even as he continued to fire. Then he saw it. Another flash on the display. A laser blast from the enemy fighter. Stockton felt his stomach heave as he saw Krill’s fighter vanish from the screen.

He sat for a second, unmoving, stunned, absorbing the reality of what his scanner showed. Then the rage came, an overwhelming need for vengeance. His eyes locked on the display, on the symbol representing the enemy fighter. He hadn’t been able to get there in time to save Krill…but he was damned if he’d let the bastard who killed his comrade escape.

The enemy ship changed course, thrusting hard to alter its vector. But the enemy pilot had accelerated hard to catch Krill, and now he was trapped by his own vector. Stockton came on, relentless. He was focused, obsessed. Nothing but the death of this enemy could satiate his need for revenge.

He fired, his blasts getting closer as the range fell. He saw that his enemy recognized the danger. The pilot moved his ship as erratically as it could, but its existing vector limited his options.

Stockton stared at the symbol on his screen. It was the only thing on his mind, all he lived for at that moment. He was a predator, an avenger…he was death itself.