They would chase him. He had no doubt.
“One hundred eighty-degree pitch,” Jack ordered.
The Scrappy flipped upside-down, flying backwards with its nose pointed at the planet. Seen from space, Salus was gorgeous. Clouds swirled over the Vanrel Ocean. Some of those had to be storms, but from up here, they looked tame.
His goggles drew green outlines over the battlecruisers that had converged at the spot where he broke orbit. One, two, three, four… He counted six of them in total. More than his little ship could handle. “Missiles,” Jack barked.
Two thin projectiles launched themselves from the Scrappy’s nose, hurtling down toward his adversaries. They detonated long before they got close enough to do any damage, disrupted by Ragnosian countermeasures. Brilliant flashes of light expanded a
