Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Half-consciously monitoring the intercom chatter, Devereux listened for any information that might require her to issue new orders. It was background noise, but useful background noise that served to indicate how her crew performed their jobs under the pressure of combat. Beside her, Elizabeth listened as well, making notes on her tablet.

Devereux watched the main screen as her ship slid past the hull of the enemy vessel. One hand gripped the back of Pyrafox’s chair, holding her upright as the deck shifted beneath her feet. Multi-colored flares lit the space around them. There was enough dust in the area around them here that the paths of the beams were largely visible. They were moving quickly enough that she could not tell as they passed it whether they were inflicting any serious damage on the enemy vessel or not.

Well, a distraction we needed, a distraction we got.

Pyrafox’s hands glided over the helm controls, coaxing maneuvers from the thrusters and engines that Devereux was certain violated nearly all of their operating specifications. His jaw was rigid with concentration, revealing a narrow line of teeth. He made small noises, like challenging growls, as he willed the helm controls to respond to his will.

Devereux glanced toward the Tactical station. Hawkes’ body remained stationary. Only his arms and hands were in motion, smoothly manipulating the console’s controls. Devereux had a brief image of him as a classical pianist on stage, expertly, almost effortlessly, performing a masterpiece.

I just hope it’s a masterpiece of expert targeting and high-yield beam emissions.

Her eyes returned to the main bridge displays. She glanced only briefly at the tactical readouts, seeing nothing there that she had not expected. They had nearly caught up with the Star Wing, requiring Hawkes to become even more precise with his targeting.

Not that he is ever anything but.

The deck rocked beneath her boots, forcing Devereux to tighten her hold on the helmsman’s chair. Even then, she nearly lost her grip.

“Collateral damage, Captain,” Hawkes reported before she could ask. “It was not intended for us, but the alien avoided it too late to deflect it.”

Devereux found the news uncomforting. Now that they were maneuvering in close quarters with the Star Wing, that particular problem was likely to become more acute.

“Captain,” Hawkes called out. “They’re concentrating their fire ahead, targeting the alien. We may not—“

“Understood,” Devereux cut him off as the deck jolted under her boots. Her fingers tightened on the back of the helmsman’s chair once more. “How much further?” she asked Pyrafox, not bothering to raise her voice above the din.

“Eighteen seconds,” Pyrafox answered her. The deck shook again, the entire bridge swayed as he made an abrupt course adjustment. “Give or take . . .”