But he’s right, of course, the Yellowjacket’s going to score eventually. So I grit my teeth and crack the throttle as wide as it’ll go, tearing off perpendicular to the chopper’s line of fire to give the pilot as tough a tracking problem as possible without any more wild maneuvers. The chain gun fires again, the bullets slashing into the water meters behind us. The pilot checks his fire, I see the micro-turret slew, and I know what’s coming next.