“Copy that,” Bianca said, her response crackling.
“We can do that,” Eleanor replied.
There was a delay, but no more responses.
"Oh no," Freya said, scanning around. Where was Caoimhe? She should have responded as well.
Freya couldn’t understand her display readings. Evidently, the shot had scrambled her systems. She had no idea where the ships were, except for the ones she could see out her windows.
"Caoimhe? Respond.”
Still no answer from Caoimhe.
Freya tried to see something, anything, that proved Caoimhe was all right. Had she hit her head?
“Wait…” Veta's voice crackled through their communications.
Freya looked out the window.
Did she see that? Not only were the Terrans heading toward the escape pods, but the Rhimodians were as well.
Trying to finish the job, were they?
Freya gritted her teeth. She'd survived a hell of a lot to wind up dying here, now. Scanners may have been down, but she could see what was around her.
And there was a planet in the distance. One of the moons of Sol. Blue from an abundance of water.
Veta's voice came through again. “Everyone, if you can hear me, instigate evasion program three.”
“Copy,” came all the responses simultaneously.
One stood out, though. “Copy,” came the last, breathy one.
“Good to hear from you, Caoimhe.”
“Well, you know, I must change to battle wear before entering a combat situation,” she answered.
“Yes, we must be properly dressed.”
Caoimhe words cut out.
“Caoimhe?”
The reply was static.
A particular type of static.
Jamming static.
Great. Now they were being jammed? That meant they were coming for her.
For all of them.
Freya took a breath.
“I can do this,” she muttered.
The nearest moon looked like a giant ball of blue shining in space, which made her think of a target. Well, that’s where she was going. She wasn’t sure if it was Sol-1 or Sol-5.
