Negative

The interceptors surged forward like hunting vipers, their plasma cannons charging with a high-pitched whine that made Adam’s molars vibrate. Susan’s fingers flew over the shuttle’s controls, jerking the steering yoke hard to port as the first volley of energy bolts streaked past the viewscreen. "Hold onto something," she warned, just before slamming the auxiliary thrusters into overdrive. Adam’s stomach lurched into his throat as the shuttle corkscrewed through the debris field of the exploding station, trailing sparks from a grazed wing.

One interceptor clipped a chunk of wreckage and spun out, its stabilizers spitting flame. Susan whooped and banked sharply, skimming the shuttle’s belly along the underside of a drifting cargo module. The remaining two pursuers split—one looping high, the other diving low in a textbook pincer maneuver. Adam stabbed at the unfamiliar console, searching for weapons. "Tell me this thing has something shooty," he demanded, kicking a panel that hissed open to reveal a nest of glowing cables. Susan grinned. "Gimme two minutes."