Spinning is a good tactic

The high-flying interceptor unleashed another barrage. Susan rolled the shuttle violently, but not fast enough—a bolt clipped the rear stabilizer, sending a shower of molten alloy across the viewscreen. Warning glyphs flashed crimson. Adam yanked a fistful of cables from the open panel and twisted them together. The shuttle’s internal lights flickered, then flared blinding white. "Oh, that’s *not* good," he admitted as the overhead vents spewed acrid smoke.

The low interceptor streaked into view, its cannons glowing cherry-red for a kill shot. Susan’s hand hovered over the throttle—then she punched it backward instead, slamming the shuttle into reverse. The interceptor overshot with a surprised wobble. Adam seized the moment, hurling his jury-rigged cable bomb out the emergency hatch. It arced into the interceptor’s engine nacelle with a fireworks display of sparks. The alien ship convulsed, then detonated in a satisfying fireball.

The last interceptor hesitated—whether from shock or tactical recalibration, Adam didn’t care. Susan didn’t give it time to decide. She flipped the shuttle end-over-end and gunned the engines straight at it. At the last possible second, she triggered the landing thrusters, kicking the shuttle’s nose up so its belly scraped along the interceptor’s canopy. The screech of metal on reinforced glass set Adam’s teeth on edge. The interceptor spiraled away, its pilot visibly screaming behind the cracked viewscreen.