“Hit!” she shouted. There was no break in the rapid staccato noise coming from the underside of their battler.

Poacher crafts were everywhere. Possibly the only thing working in Knot 27’s favour was there were so many Critamal crafts, their enemy risked shooting their own ships by firing upon the space soldiers. The white Critamal fire still seemed to flash in blinding waves as Elara threw them side to side.

“Uh, guys?” Phobos said. “We seem to have the company of one rather large battleship.”

“How big?” Deimos asked.

“Like . . . I would say one of its guns is the size of our entire battler.”

“That’s pretty big.”

“Yep,” Phobos said, creating a popping sound on the “p.”

The gigantic craft rose into view on Romy’s side as Knot 27’s battler spiralled past, and if she was unsure before about fear’s effects, she wasn’t now. For a stretched second, she forgot she held a gun, forgot she should breathe. She just froze, staring at her death in the form of a gigantic metallic spacecraft, unable to even blink. It was goliath, bigger than any other poacher craft by twenty times. Nearly a quarter the size of the Critamal’s mothership!

The shouting within their battler brought her back to the present.

“Don’t you think I’m trying to get out, Phobos?” Elara screamed.

Romy swallowed and stared down at her gun as she was thrown backwards and forwards by Elara’s piloting. Her hands were shaking so hard, she couldn’t maintain her grip on the weapon.

This must be why the poachers chose to mobilise their entire force! She observed the craft as closely as she could while being tossed around. The ship manoeuvred smoothly despite its size. And the guns. . . . Romy’s mouth dried. A single hit from those guns and Knot 27 was dead.

Romy’s tone was grim. “We need to take it out. Or this battle is only ending one way.”

Elara grunted, voice strained as she did everything possible to keep the knot alive. “Underside?”

Deimos hummed in doubt. “I would usually say yes, but the poachers aren’t stupid. I think they would have hidden the fuel cells elsewhere.”

“I second that.” Romy broke from her shock. “There’s no way this new craft will have the same weaknesses.” Her chest rose and fell faster than it ever had.

There were at least ten smaller poacher crafts hot on their trail. Romy had no idea how Elara was evading so many.

“Should we focus on the thrusters, then? There’s always rocket fuel there,” Phobos added.

It was also one of the best-protected places of any craft. No one fired there expecting to get an actual hit. It was a desperate suggestion, worthy of their predicament.