The journey up was a nightmare of evasion. They wove through the sudden, disorganized traffic of Imperial ships trying to reposition or escape the potential blast zone. Proximity alarms blared constantly. Lyra piloted with a cool, suicidal brilliance.
The Eclipse loomed larger, a jagged black claw against the stars. Its point-defense lasers flickered, but their firing was sporadic, confused by the internal comms chaos and the pod's tiny, erratic signature.
"Brace for impact!" Lyra yelled.
They weren't docking.They were crashing.
Skyfall,aimed at a secondary hangar bay, slammed through the energy shield during a fractional refresh cycle and tore into the deck plating in a shriek of metal.
They were in.