A squadron of Pyro Fighters sped through the clear blue sky, soaring over the endless dunes of a sun-baked desert. They flew in a wedge formation with one pilot in the lead and several ships on his wing.
Lieutenant Wil Daron checked his heads-up display, skimming the many stats his computer pasted on the canopy window. His shields were charged, weapons hot. His little fighter was ready for battle. Was he?
Tension tied his guts in knots just as it had every other time he had been forced to go up against a powerful enemy. He had fought the Overseers in the skies above Earth. He had seen the kind of firepower they could unleash. And yet, here he was, having faced them twice and survived. The experience reminded him of writing exams in college. You never really stopped feeling nervous, but a
