Zane is dead! My brain shouts at me as once again the cold, hard truth of what happened rattles me to the core. No matter how hard I try to pry it from my mind, I can't. I can only harden myself to the truth and use it as ammunition against the Kry. With Zane gone, Captain Grey orders us to pair up as wing-mates with the person closest to us. That's Perseus for me. On the other side of our formation, Cassie teams up with Darius while the captain pairs up with Apollo.

We circle around on the backside of the enemy's rear flank, but as we come around, we realize they're sweeping back on us, too. A swarm of starfighters folding in on each other: A-Wings against X22s in a giant firestorm, weapons ablaze, twenty-four enemy fighters versus twenty of us.

I cling to Perseus's left wing, allowing only enough space to fit one of our ships in between. The enemy slices toward us, plasma rounds zipping all around. Perseus tears a hole through the sky with tracer fire, hammering the nose of an A-Wing until it engulfs in flames and rips apart before my eyes, the wreckage careening past me, plummeting toward the ground.

Another enemy ship soars around behind me and homes in on me. Alarms blare and red lights flash.

The alien pilot almost has a missile lock on me. It's forgoing the plasma rounds and aiming straight for the kill shot. I jerk the control stick left and right, whipping my starfighter side-to-side, trying to lose my tail, but it's no use. The enemy is good.

There's a bright glare behind me, an explosion.

"Watch your backside, Starlight," Captain Grey says. "You can't just focus on your wing-mate or what's in front of you. You need to have eyes in the back of your head."

"Got it." That could be a problem. I squeeze the trigger on my control stick and light up an enemy ship with fifty-caliber rounds, red streaks igniting its tail in a brief blaze before it plummets toward the ground and strikes like a meteor impact.

That's two more enemy ships eliminated, knocking the opposition's numbers down even more. A moment after that, Cassie and Darius let out shouts of victory, each of them scoring kills. Two more down. Now we're fighting even numbers... twenty of us against twenty of them.

"Listen up," Admiral Sky broadcasts over the airwaves. "Six A-Wings have broken away from the dogfight. They're headed straight for the colony. They're making a hard run to begin a bombing spree on the air shield."

"Blade," the admiral says to Captain Grey. "Take Star Squadron and pursue them." A brief pause ensues. "Jangle?"

"Yes, sir?" the newly promoted captain and flight leader, Nadia Chopra, replies.

"Assume command of the battle for Captain Grey while her team chases the enemy down."

"On it, sir!"

With Captain Grey leading the way, we break off from the swarming starfighters, alien and human alike, explosions igniting the air as the enemy suffers more casualties. Away from the main action, I see the numbers drop in our favor, my screen represented by Xs and triangles, revealing the fact that we're winning this fight...

Our fighters from Star Squadron pursue the enemy ships barreling toward the colony, leaving Jangle with an advantage of fourteen to eight.

I still can't shake the fact that we've lost eight of our pilots, six of them cadets, a second-in-command, and a flight leader. It blows my mind that we have to resort to throwing new pilots to the wolves. But our starfighters seem to show more skill than the Kry in air-to-air combat. Sure, we lose pilots, but they lose more. It might be that the admiral's training methods are top-notch, or that the enemy has become complacent. Or both. Or maybe they don't want to spend the resources it takes to ultimately defeat us. We may never know.

Truthfully, I've only been in Flight School for a couple of months, but I want to know what the crud is really going on.

Having caught up to the enemy ships traveling at Mach three, we slow to dogfighting speed as we approach them from behind. Under the admiral's orders, we back off and don't engage...

A deafening boom cracks the air, and the lead A-Wing plummets from the sky, a victim of the artillery guns.

Another thunderclap! A second enemy ship plunges toward the ground and slams into the Martian surface.

"That's all we can do for now," Admiral Sky says. "They're too close to the colony for our perimeter guns to hit them. It's all yours, Blade."

"Affirmative, Admiral." Captain Grey's voice sounds off inside my helmet. "Star Squadron, take all of them out. Don't let one of them escape."

"You heard the captain," Apollo says. "Same wing-mates as before."

"Check that, Lieutenant." It's the captain. "I'll take Starlight. You take Stick, and Blaze takes Luna."

So, Captain Grey wants Apollo to lead Darius, and Perseus to lead Cassie. Why does she feel the need to chaperone me all the sudden?

Her voice transmits on my private line. "You did well back there, Starlight. Stay close. And watch my back."

"Yes, sir." Maybe she wants to be my wing-mate for some other reason than to make sure I survive the last stretch of the battle. All I want to do is defend the colony and help my flight team. Making things easier for myself isn't a priority for me.

After the perimeter guns had taken out two of the Kry fighters, that leaves four remaining for us to eliminate before they reach the colony. On my screen, I observe that Captain Chopra—Jangle—is leading a valiant effort to destroy the other eight enemy ships. As a matter of fact, they now have a fourteen to four advantage. They should finish them soon, hopefully losing no more of our pilots.

Apollo and Darius lock down on two of the remaining A-Wings while Perseus and Cassie zero in on the other two.

I back off my airspeed after I realize the captain has slowed. My brows pinch, wondering what she's doing, and then it hits me; she's backing off the fight to allow the rest of our team to take out the enemy.

"Captain," I say. "What are we doing? Shouldn't we be helping them?"

"We are." Her reply comes back sharply.

"How?"

"By hanging back to catch any Kry that try to escape."

I see some logic in her line of thinking, but it feels wrong. The four enemy ships hit their afterburners and rocket toward the colony. Apollo, Darius, Perseus, and Cassie turn on the jets and race after them. As the Kry near the airbase, which is above the colony air shield, they swoop toward the surface to make their run. The captain orders me to hold back and wait as the rest of Star Squadron gets a lock and opens fire. Searing laser-guided missiles blaze toward their targets, blasting two of the enemy ships to chunks of twisted metal, leaving two more ships to drop their plasma bombs on our air shield.

Behind me, outnumbering the enemy and overwhelming them, Captain Chopra has eliminated the four ships that had remained in the main battle.

The last two Kry fighters bombard the air shield, dropping fiery plasma bombs, threatening the heart of the colony... our people. They make one pass, a cluster of molten blobs raining down, striking the shield with flashing red-hot circles before dissipating into nothing. Thankfully, the shield holds... for now.

Apollo rakes the backside of an A-Wing with his fifty-caliber tracer rounds while Perseus fires a missile at the other ship, but misses. He must have failed to get a lock before pulling the trigger. But I watch from a safe distance as Apollo lights up his target's rear-end until the ship catches fire. A few seconds later, its thrusters explode, tearing the A-Wing to pieces. It slams into the air shield and skids across its width, where it smashes into the canyon's northern wall.

Taking heat from the rest of our flight team, the last Kry fighter releases a final bomb and rockets toward the heavens. The plasma blob hits the air shield, but doesn't destroy it. I don't know if any of the bombardment did any damage to the only thing that makes life for us possible on Mars.

"We'll get the last fighter," Captain Grey says. "Stay on my tail, Starlight."

"You heard the captain," Apollo replies. "Blade, Luna, and Stick, stand down."

They comply as Captain Grey and I race after the last enemy ship.

I stay on her tail, as ordered. The G-forces press down on me as I thunder toward the upper atmosphere. The enemy ship is determined to get away, but we're dead set on making sure it doesn't. At least I am. An overwhelming urge to blast it out of the sky washes over me. The enemy had killed Zane. It was a mid-air collision, but they murdered him. If they would just leave us alone, we could live in peace. Zane would still be alive. One of them had also shot down Apollo in a previous battle. He could have died, too. They must pay.

We need to finish the enemy. None of them can escape.

Captain Grey speeds faster, and so do I. The G-forces press hard against me, but I continue on, staying on her tail as her wing-mate. The closer we get to the edge of the atmosphere; the more darkness crowds my peripheral vision. I sense I'm on the brink of losing consciousness. I know a blackout could be fatal. If I pass out and don't awaken before I hit the ground...

The captain thunders higher. "Stay with me, Starlight."

"I'm here." My voice sounds strained even to me.

"Are you okay?"

I hesitate to give my answer as the G-forces press against me. But I increase speed, pursuing the enemy ship. "Yes," I finally say.

"No, you're not okay," Captain Grey says. "Abort mission."

Immediately, the captain's starfighter breaks away, turning back. But I keep going with the A-Wing in my sights.

"Starlight, pull back now!"

I don't reply but shoot through the edge of the atmosphere... into space and the dim glow of stars, drowned out by the dominance of the sun. The pressure that threatens to knock me out lessens... and my peripheral vision returns to normal.

I'm in space. The first starfighter pilot to go this high since Admiral Sky.

My missile lock zeros in, and I squeeze the trigger on the side of my throttle's T-handle.

I watch the last enemy ship explode into fragments, its debris floating in blackness. "I got it!"

"Starlight, return to base." Captain Grey's voice erupts in my ear. "That's an order. Now!"

"Affirmative. On my way." I acknowledge her command, but before I turn toward the red haze of the upper atmosphere, I glimpse an enormous dark outline, hovering some distance away in front of me. Check that. I see a massive object orbiting the planet.

On my forward camera, I observe the object, trying to determine what it is. As I drift in weightlessness, a brightness, like sudden starlight, flashes in the darkness, emanating from the object. The Kry has shot a weapon of some kind at me. The ray of light soars toward me in the blackness. Out of instinct, I fire a missile at the massive object, not understanding what it is, but knowing it fired on me, so I have to return fire. My missile streaks past the incoming threat of light, the two weapons passing each other in the vacuum of space.

I'm not sure how to operate my starfighter in zero gravity, so by voice command, I switch Pilot Assist back on at fifty percent temporarily, to make up for my inefficiencies until I get the hang of it. But as I turn toward Mars, the incoming threat materializes into what it really is. A plasma missile encapsulated in a ball of light. At least, that's what it looks like to me.

I use my ship's positional jets to get out of the way. Getting a feel for it, I dial the Pilot Assist back even more.

The plasma missile skims beneath the bottom of my fuselage, missing a direct hit, but swallowing my starfighter in an electrifying glow. I glance back at the ginormous dark object that orbits Mars in the distance. My missile impacts it, flares into an explosion, then fades to black again. I don't know if it caused any damage, but that's the least of my concerns, as the upper atmosphere draws my ship back in. As I reenter, I realize I have no control, and the computer has disengaged completely.

I've lost contact with Captain Grey as my starfighter blisters through the air, aiming straight toward the ground where death awaits me. If I can't regain control of my ship, I won't live to see the fulfillment of my dreams and aspirations. My goal of standing on the stage, graduating from Flight School, flashes before my eyes, then an image of Apollo's chiseled jawline and sad gaze mourning my demise fills my vision. It's all over if I don't figure out how to survive and save my ship. Even if I live to tell Admiral Sky about the dark object that I saw orbiting the planet—if my starfighter ends up destroyed—my dreams will go up in flames. I may never walk across that stage or discover what it feels like to fall into Apollo's arms again.

My life may end whether I live or die... that's the brutal truth I can't deny.