The Star Wing worked her way methodically along the enemy vessel’s hull, alternating with blasts of energy and the raw fury of her claws. The vessel released a swarm of drones, but the Star Wing swatted them easily aside or engulfed clusters of them in clouds of destructive fire. The vessel itself began to turn slowly, but Devereux knew there was nothing it could do against its tiny assailant.
“Captain,” Pyrafox called out. “The other ship is turning, changing course.”
It took only a glance at the tactical display to tell Devereux what it was doing. It was bringing itself into position to fire at the Star Wing.
They must have decided they didn’t care what happened to their other ship.
Considering the damage that Star Wing was inflicting upon it, Devereux guessed that she might have made the same choice.
Still . . . talk about swatting a fly with a sledgehammer . . .
Despite her rapidly receding doubts about the veracity of the Star Wing’s tales, Devereux held grave concerns whether their Aerian savior could survive a concentrated onslaught like that. So far, though, the Star Wing was ahead on points.
An idea began to form in Devereux’s mind. A quick study of the tactical display confirmed it. It would be risky, but, if it worked, could accomplish several objectives at the same time. Looking toward Hawkes, she wished she had time to consult with her Tactical officer, but she was not sure that she had time—that the Star Wing had the time—for her to plan it out as thoroughly as she would liked.
And that’s why you’re the Captain.
“Helm,” she called out, moving with purpose toward the navigation station. She reached down and tapped out several commands on his console. “I want a course that will bring us out from behind this rock and shoot us as fast as we can between those ships.”
Pyrafox’s eyes widened. ”Between them?”
“Between them,” Devereux repeated. “I’m hoping they might be a little less trigger-happy if they know they might be blasting holes in each other’s ships.”
Pryafox’s throat pulsed as he swallowed hard. “Aye, Captain.” His claws made light clicking noises as they danced across the surface of his console.
“Tactical,” Devereux said. Hawkes was already eyeing her when she turned to face him. Even veiled behind his glasses, his eyes revealed perhaps the closest look to incredulity that she had ever seen from him.
“Yes, Captain.”
“I want a full barrage as we pass between them,” she told him. “Fire everything we’ve got at them, at both ships.”
Hawkes studied her for a moment, not bothering to consult his console before stating, “A full barrage will seriously deplete our weapons stores, Captain. If we—“
“If the fleet doesn’t get here soon,” Devereux him off, “then it won’t matter if we have one torpedo left or ten. Just one of those ships can turn us into a pile of junk without breaking a sweat. I don’t know why they haven’t, but maybe we can use that against them.”
Her Tactical Officer stared back at her for only a moment. “Yes, Captain,” he replied, his posture straightening in an informal salute of obedience. “Preparing full barrage. Bringing all weapons systems online.”
A grim smile tugged at the corner of Devereux’s mouth. She walked back to the command deck, using those few moments to mentally rehearse the next part.
It’s one thing to have a bold plan. It’s quite another to risk other people’s lives while doing it.
She tapped the intercom control. This was not an announcement that she would delegate.
“All hands,” she said. “This is the Captain.”
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