“When can we jump?” Normally Alex would have set up a countdown timer himself, without having to ask the Shipmaster. But that requires a purposeful, focused thought. He didn’t dare take his attention away from navigating a still growing cloud of Eohm projectiles.
“Six. Minutes.” The words were, at best, venomous. They made it clear that usurping Shipmaster Tshalen's authority over the engines and power plant had not done anything to improve her view of him.
“Super.” Alex rolled the ship out of the way of a particularly dense cluster of projectiles. Truth be told, they probably could have safely taken the damage from a missile, maybe two. It would have peeled off the shields, no doubt about that. Anything else after that would have been a different story entirely.
He cleared his mind of second guessing for the time being. They just had to hang on for six minutes.
Easy.
Sensors shrieked in his mind and Alex flinched away from the noise, jerking the Kshlav’o out of the path of a superluminal bolt. With the shipboard AI hooked so tightly into his brain, he felt it as it passed. The sensation of something searing hot skating over his skin, the bones beneath flexing - the feelings were all simulated to make it crystal clear this was not something he wanted to let make contact.
If the Eohm were going to use near instant-strike weapons usually reserved for capital ships, running wasn’t going to work for six minutes. The scoutship was mostly engine and armor, giving it an usual level of agility in sublight and extreme durability for a ship its size, but it wouldn’t be able to shrug off a single hit like that.
A conventional tack would not work, so he cobbled together what he knew about the Eohm and made something unconventional. Alex brought the long range scanners online and killed the main thrusters just long enough to flip the Kshlav'o over and begin a run at the twin Eohm fleets.
The Shipmaster’s channel opened a heartbeat later. Even with the faint digitization, the translator conveyed the alien’s alarm and anger. “Why have we reversed direction?”
“I’m buying time.” He was distant, eyes searching for a clear path and any kind of missile. The long range sensors moved with his gaze, the wide-band impulse blinding whatever it touched. It only took a few moments for the AI to understand what he was doing and take over. “I’ve got this.”
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“You have what?”
In another situation it would have been nice to not hear exasperation when he was imprecise about something, even if she was still really pissed. “I have a plan. I’m going to the only defensible location around here.”
The extra information cooled her temper, her words now just terse. “You are going there through the Eohm?”
Alex flinched again as a railgun projectile skipped off their shields, a hot knife dragged across his chest. “I am going to the Eohm.”
The translator passed along an angry burst of Tsla, whatever she had said not present in the dictionary. “We will not go to our deaths. Change direction immediately, pilot.”
“They won’t risk firing on each other.”
She made a sort-of grunt sound that Alex understood as the Tsla’o version of ‘huh?’
“Eohm view other life as dangerous, but their own is sacred. They won’t take the chance.” He hoped they wouldn’t, anyway. No one had ever had the opportunity to test that theory until now.
“By your sight I yield, pilot.” That wasn't something he had heard her say before. There might have been a hint of approval in there, too. Somewhere.
Even if it was new to him, Alex was still pretty sure he got her meaning. “Thanks.”
The incoming fire had died down as they approached - the Eohm stopped firing missiles entirely and larger class projectiles gave way to smaller guns that the shields could shrug off. Three minutes left as they slipped into the space between the two fleets, everything went silent.
Alex opened the comm to the Shipmaster again, a smile creeping onto his face. “Worked like a charm.”
“Hold your pride until we are underway again.”
That was prudent advice. There was still an enormous amount of ordinance pointed at them. “Very well.”
He kept it in check as he jinked the ship around the safe zone. Two minutes. One minute. The Sheridan-Reyes sensor went off the charts and Alex cussed to himself as one of the fleets jumped out.
He made a run for the remaining fleet as thousands of guns leveled at them went hot at once, his vision turned into a mass of red firing solution threads, with the Kshlav’o sitting at their apex..
Alex was a good pilot. Probably one of the best, in his estimation, but some odds were too long.