“Exactly,” Voss said, not looking up from his console. “In a gravity well that chaotic, your precious instruments are useless. Instinct is all that’s left. Move, Rookie.”
She killed all thrust. For a terrifying second, the Skipper was silent, floating in the star’s terrible light. Then the gravity wave hit—a rolling punch that slammed her ship into the Odyssey ’s side. Metal screamed. Sparks flew. The docking clamps bit down with a sound like a wolf’s jaw snapping shut. the rookie talia
When she dropped out of FTL, the neutron star filled her view—a monstrous, spinning eye of pure violence. Its magnetic fields were visible as shimmering curtains of blue and violet, twisting like living whips. And there, a tiny speck caught in the deadly dance, was the Odyssey . “Exactly,” Voss said, not looking up from his console
The rookie’s name was Talia, and she was the worst pilot in the Galactic Fleet. That wasn't just an opinion; it was a statistical fact, stamped on her file in bold red letters. Her ship, the Stardust Skipper , had more dents than a recycled asteroid, and her landing record was a running joke at the Ceres Base mess hall. Move, Rookie