I banked the speeder toward the canyons. Away from the villa. Away from civilization. Toward the badlands where his private craft would have a harder time tracking.
Behind us, Tarsus’s pursuit craft launched.
We were airborne.
We were free.
But Tarsus was right behind us.
BREVAN
The speeder banked hard into the first canyon. Rock walls rose on both sides. A narrow passage, barely wide enough for our hull.
I’d taken control from Carys as soon as we cleared the villa. She was competent, but this kind of flying required years of combat experience I didn’t have time to teach. Flinx was a silent lump in her lap, his optics dark. He was still rebooting from his fight with the villa’s lockdown protocols. We were blind.
“Carys, weapons,” I ordered. “Port and stern. They’re coming.”
“I’m on it.” She moved to the weapons station, her hands moving over the controls. She learned fast.
The tactical display lit up. Three contacts. Tarsus’s private pursuit craft. Fast, armed, and closing.
“Can we outrun them?” Carys asked.
“In open sky? No. Their crafts are military-grade. Ours is civilian.” I pushed the speeder deeper into the canyon. “But they can’t maneuver like we can. Not in terrain this tight.”
The canyon narrowed further. I adjusted our angle. The hull scraped rock. Warning indicators flashed.
“Brevan—”
“I know.”
The passage opened into a wider valley. Badlands stretched ahead. Broken terrain. Jagged rock formations. The kind of landscape that made navigation difficult and targeting nearly impossible.
Perfect.
I dropped altitude, skimming low over the ground, using the terrain as cover.
The pursuit crafts appeared behind us. Sleek. Predatory. They split formation. One high. Two flanking low.
“They’re in firing range,” Carys said.
“Shields?”
“At sixty percent. The hangar escape damaged the generators.”
Not good. But survivable if we stayed smart.
The first pulse came in. I jerked left. The shot went wide, scorching earth where we’d been.
Carys fired back. Our weapons were lighter, shorter-range, but she anticipated the lead. The pulse caught one pursuit craft’s shields. They flared but held.
“Nice shot,” I said.
“I missed.”
“You made him adjust course. That’s good enough.”
Another energy bolt. This one closer. I rolled right. Dove into a ravine. The walls pressed close. Barely room to maneuver.
