>>6033440The three ships lined up in a triangle shape with the Armitage as the vanguard. It's strange that the most reluctant captain should take the lead, but you've seen stranger things in the short time you are out here on the rim. “Enemy 800,000 klicks out. I will accelerate to 600 klicks per sec. Keep close. Over.” Right in front of you, every drone from Okwonko's kicked beehive is already speeding along, oblivious to their own death as long as they can edge in a sting.
“Target speed reached. Redirecting thrust to directional exhaust. Don't put me in plaster again, Sylvie.” Tim sneaks in a stretch before the ship reaches the half-million waypoint. You would imagine crossing a threshold, a point of no return, but the truth is, the line is all the way back in Tan Hoi. “Think of this like a last sprint of sorts. The cup's in sight,” Tim's face is graven. “If we trip and fall here...” “We won't. So stop blabbering.” The floor groans and crackles a little at the main gun's compressive recoil.
1 light-second, the true tidemark. A poorly-trained destroyer captain would dump his entire load right now and starts running. “Heat signatures from Hummingbird-1 and 2, 8 of them, no, 10 in all.” Vuylsteke calls out in her scratchy voice, “All laser and railgun PD engaged. Flares ready.” None of the torpedoes even makes it close, the latency on command line-of-sight system still too high at this range despite what the manuals say.
Your battle-screen outshines the clear night sky as the drones launched their dumbfire rockets and bombs. Okwonko is too much of a cheapskate to arm them with proper guided missiles, if he even has any. “Hummingbird-2 hit, falling out of formation.” The destroyer was still reeling from the gaping hole amidships when your lasers finish the job. “Well done on the skewering, Skyline. See you on the other side. Over and out.”
“Armitage speeding up, 750 klicks.” You grind your teeth in impotence. “What kind of show is this, Jean-Pierre? No time for heroics. Over.” There is no response, 800 klicks, all comm channels have gone dead. “Sparrow-2, 3, and 4 releasing their fish, 42 in all. My God.” Half of the welcoming party were aimed at the Armitage. You close your eyes, already teary-rimmed. One thought alone dominates your mind, “At least there are no Marlins.”
