“So shoot for me,” he says. Malikov just tilts his head in question, smoke drifting from his nostrils. “These fighters Mao is carrying.” Mason nods to the hangar bay behind them, the sleek shapes docked inside. “Chimeras. They’re two-man ships. If I’m gonna fly one, I need a gunner. You know how to shoot. And to be honest, most of these people Boll has me training aren’t great shakes.”
