I lined up on it and throttled up, powering forward at what was in retrospect too fast a clip. As soon as I came into range I opened up, peppering the Cutlass with ballistic fire, trying to concentrate on the nose, head filled with thoughts of an exploding Cutlass, drifting forward toward it when all the sudden… red flashes stabbed upward toward us from the Cutlass! The turret! Someone was manning the turret!

“Missile warning.” my system said dispassionately. An amber indicator blinked furiously from the console in front of me. “Shit!” I swore, rolling to my right and pulling hard on the stick, dumping countermeasures like they were candy at Christmas. I rolled back to my left and pulled up again just in time to get her into my sites and dump as many rounds as I could directly into her forward shields as she screamed past, far closer than was comfortable. I caught a flash of a silhouette- an arrowhead front end narrowing to a thin waist, then widening to a flared rear- a Gladius! I had to finish this fast, this was everything I feared, she was in a vastly superior fighter when it came to maneuverability!