Dropping from seven miles to less than twenty feet at those kinds of speeds could be very unnerving, and Elfangor wasn't so detached that he could ignore such things entirely. But it was also oddly thrilling, he might have often traveled millions of miles per hour in the airless, frictionless environment of deep space, but that could not possibly compare to the heady rush of blazing ever closer to the ground at a mere three-thousand miles per hour

Elfangor and Arbron both screamed in that strange combination of terror and sheer exhilaration that usually accompanies risking either death or dismemberment. The shrieking of collision alarms, accompanied by the rhythmic flashing of bright green lights provided an eerie backdrop to their inaudible screams.

Pull up! Pull up NOW! Arbron yelled, as the ground loomed a bit too close for comfort.

Elfangor stained the controls, wishing suddenly that Loren could be here with him. Surely she would have enjoyed this. Elfangor blinked, wondering what had made him think of her right then.

Aside from the fact that I might as well have abandoned her here, for all the good I'm doing her right now. He shook that off, he didn't have any time to spare for thought of things he had no control over. He would just have to hope that Loren could somehow escape Chapman and the Yeerks and that he could find her.

Can you bring the Bug fighters up on visual? Elfangor asked, as much to distract himself as to try and get some information on how their enemies were faring.

Coming on screen now, Arbron said, his tone giving away the fact that he was extremely tense.

The Bug fighters weren't doing as well as the more durable Skrit Na ship, but the Yeerks inside were nothing if not determined. Or maybe they were just afraid of facing the wrath of whoever had dispatched them to chase down the Jahar.

Fine, Elfangor grated, seeing that they were too stubborn to back down. Let's just see how long the can last at higher speeds.

He pushed the freighter's engines harder, feeling the ship list ever so slightly as the speed increased.

We're currently at three-thousand miles per hour, climbing to three-thousand three. Three-thousand four, hull temperature is… if Arbron had possessed eyelids he would have blinked, a reading that high did not bode well for them. Forget I said anything, you don't even want to know. We've just reached three-thousand five miles per hour.

Elfangor watched as the ground and sky whipped past, each blurred into the other until it was impossible to tell the two apart. The blistering heat-wave that blazed all around their borrowed ship caused the rather pitiful-looking plants to explode into roaring flames beneath them. Anyone who was looking now would have only to follow the path of charred foliage to find the ship.

Pull up! Arbron's urgent shout cut into Elfangor's worrying.

Where did they come from?! Elfangor demanded as he strained the ship's throttle to the point of almost breaking his wrist, referring to the mountain range that had seemed to appear from nowhere.

Do you think we'll clear them? Arbron asked.

Elfangor didn't waste words, as he felt the ship struggle to regain some of its former altitude. The Yeerks, having advanced and explicit knowledge of the topography of their planet, managed to gain on them quickly during their momentary trouble.

The lead Bug fighter was now close enough to fire, and they did not waste that opportunity. Though they did not hit the ship, they did come close enough to be worrisome. As the dividing line between night and day rushed towards them, Elfangor saw the lead Bug fighter explode into flaming wreckage.

He sighed, relieved that at least one of their pursuers had finally been destroyed. Then the excitement hit him.

Yah hah! One Yeerk fried!

Elfangor, we'll be next if we don't slow down, Arbron warned, not letting himself get too caught up in the fact that this desperate maneuver had actually worked.

There are still three Bug fighters after us, Elfangor said, as if Arbron could have forgotten that fact.

We are about two minutes from burning up ourselves, Arbron said, checking the temperature readings to make sure he was right. Can you be sure that those Bug fighters will cinder before we do?

What would you suggest, Arbron?

We use what we have. We take a chance, three shots should be enough to take out our pursuers. They would never expect something like that, Arbron answered.

Are you sure you can do that?

I can, Arbron said calmly.

With Taxxon eyes? Elfangor asked, wanting to be realistic about any chance they had. With Taxxon reaction time? And with a Skrit Na targeting computer?

I can make the shot, Elfangor.

Arbron, I want to come out of this alive, Elfangor said, giving his companion a sidelong look.

And you think I don't care whether I live or die? You might be right. You only had to be one of these creatures for a shot time, and even then you could barely stand it. I'll have to be this way for the rest of my life. Can you blame me for not wanting that to be such a long time? Arbron's voice had become increasingly raw as he spoke, as more and more suppressed emotion seeped in.

Arbron shook himself. I can still make this shot. I won't fail just because I happen to be stuck like this, he said resolutely.

And all this time you used to mock me for wanting to be a great hero. Now look what you're trying to do.

I'm not trying to be a hero, Elfangor. I just want to survive.

Elfangor had nothing to say to that, and so they both fell silent once again. Elfangor looked at the hull temperature indicators and saw that Arbron was right. They would both die if they didn't slow down soon.