17
Another blast hit, and this one felt like a death knell. Alarms were screeching, and his navigational controls were fried. There was a hull breach in the cabin; the shuttle was venting atmosphere. Emergency systems kicked in, sealing the cockpit door to keep him alive. Not that it would do much good. At this point, he could only fly in a straight line and wait for those bastards to finish him off.
Jack Hunter had never been a praying man, but he sent good thoughts out into the universe, hoping that whatever was listening – if, indeed, there was anything listening – knew that at least he had tried. He'd given it his all; no one could ask for more.
When the next shot hit, everything went dark.
And then silence.
A silence broken only by the sound of heavy breathing. It took Jack a few
