24
“Come on, you lazy old cow!” Lucy aimed a kick at the nav-console, the trode-tiara on her head lighting up red to indicate pilot distress. She’d gone into a deep sulk upon being told she had to fly the Aguila rather than take charge of the Covert Ops stealth ship. “No way she’s a better pilot than me,” she had grumbled back in the Cerberus docking bay, jerking her head at the professionally taciturn woman checking over the stealth ship’s landing gear.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s why I need you with me. Think I’d trust anyone else to shoot this hoop? Forget it.”
It had been enough to mollify her, but her frustration with the aged freighter’s handling became more evident the closer we came to lunar orbit. Maintaining station among the ragtag fleet that had launched from Cerberus wasn’t eas
