The ship skipped across the ground, and the second impact slammed me forward into my restraints, knocking the wind out of me. My poor Poco skidded along the dusty surface, cockpit rumbling. The canopy shattered and I screamed. I had no control. I just had to brace and hope the GravCaps had enough time to recharge between—

CRUNCH.

With a gut-wrenching sound of twisting metal, the Poco ground to a halt.

I sagged against my straps, dazed, and the world spun around me. I groaned, trying to catch my breath.

Slowly, my vision returned to normal. I shook my head, then managed to slump to the side and look out the broken cockpit canopy. My ship was no more. I’d smashed into a hillside, and during my skid I’d ripped off both wings and a big chunk of the fuselage. I was basically a chair strapped to a tube. Even the warning lights on my control panel had died.

I had failed.

“Fighter down,” someone at Flight Command said over the radio in my helmet. “Bomber still on target.” Her voice grew hushed. “Death zone entered.”

“This is Skyward Five,” Arturo’s voice said. “Callsign: Amphi. I’ve got Skyward Two and Six with me.”

“Pilots?” Ironsides said. “Are you flying private ships?”

“Kind of,” he said. “I’ll let you explain it to my parents.”

“Spin,” someone at Flight Command said. “What’s your status? We saw a controlled crash. Is your ship mobile?”

“No,” I said, voice croaking.

“Spin?” Kimmalyn said. “Oh! What have you done?”

“Nothing, apparently,” I said in frustration, working at my straps. Scudding things were stuck.

“Spin,” Flight Command said. “Evacuate your wreckage. Krell incoming.”

Krell incoming? I craned my neck and looked backward through my broken canopy. That black ship—one of the four that defended the bomber—had swung around in the sky to check on my wreckage. It obviously didn’t want me returning to the air and attacking them from behind.

The dark ship flew low, bearing down on me. I knew, staring at it, that it wasn’t going to leave my survival to chance. It wanted me. It knew.

“Spin?” Flight Command said. “Are you out?”

“Negative,” I whispered. “I’m stuck in my straps.”

“I’m coming!” Kimmalyn said.

“Negative!” Ironsides said. “You three focus on that bomber. You’re too far away anyway.”

“This is Riptide Eight,” Jorgen said over the line. “Spin, I’m coming! ETA six minutes!”

The black Krell ship opened fire on my wreckage.

At that exact moment, a dark shadow passed overhead, cresting the hill beside me, skimming it and sending dust raining down on me. The enemy destructors hit the newcomer’s shield.

What?

A large fighter with sharp wings… in a W shape.

“This is callsign: Mongrel,” a rough voice said. “Hang on, kid.”

Cobb. Cobb was flying M-Bot.

Cobb fired his light-lance, expertly spearing the dark Krell ship as they passed each other. M-Bot was by far the more massive vessel. He yanked the Krell assassin ship backward like a master pulling on her dog’s leash, then spun in a calculated maneuver—towing the enemy ship in a crazy arc, then slamming it into the ground.