Still upset with the missed shot, he silently blamed the computer. The gunnery ‘computers’ back on the Clover had been tolerable to work with, but he was missing more than half his shots here on this Dungeon ship, and he didn’t think it was because his skills had suddenly deteriorated. It had to be that these computers simply were not as good as the ones on the Lucky Clover. Everyone had always said how their old Battleship had ancient systems compared to everyone else, but this Dungeon Citadel seemed to have even older systems than those. It was a quandary, and he wondered if he had simply been hazed back on the gun deck of the Clover regarding their supposedly archaic technology.
Pushing such thoughts aside in an instant, he decided he was going to take the next shot on manual and swat that little Imperial fly out of cold space—permanently.
“Are you even listening to me?!” Lisa Steiner shouted up at him.
A warrior in the middle of combat was given great license to ignore the natural social order of things, but even that was no reason to be rude. Besides, he knew how difficult it was to stay calm and focused when under attack and unable to do anything to defend yourself. If a common warrior like him felt that way, how much worse must it be for a woman? She was used to being in command and control of everything and everyone around her. He supposed that some allowances had to be made for the greater sex.
“No, not really,” he said loud enough to make sure she could hear him, and then the fleet-footed little fighter ran across his targeting picture and he hit the manual override while swiveling his mount to compensate for the Fighter’s movements.
Lisa opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say was drowned out when Hierophant pressed the trigger. There was an explosion and his hand tightened on his control sticks with satisfaction. He even allowed himself a small, smug smile at his success.
“Got him,” Hierophant said evenly.
“Who, the Cruiser?” Lisa Steiner demanded, dancing around beside his medium laser mount with an excited victory dance. The way her chest jiggled was a delightful distraction from duty—or it would have been, if he had allowed himself to be distracted so.
“No,” he said shortly, perturbed at his own reaction. This was battle, after all—there were enemies to slaughter! “Not the Cruiser, a small ‘Imperial Fighter’.”
Steiner visibly deflated and then looked back up at him, her mouth forming a cute little pout he was familiar with from back on the ship. It only made that expression when she was both suspicious, and angry about her suspicions. He wondered what he had done to deserve this kind of treatment.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you,” she said, stomping her foot.
“Did what?” he asked absently, because over his head set the Chief Gunner for the Dungeon ship—or what passes for a Chief Gunner here, he thought with dissatisfaction, called out for one last broadside against the Light Cruiser before the Corvettes finished driving it away. When the time came he followed orders, turned back on the automatics, and fired his laser at the Cruiser’s shields.
When he glanced back down at Steiner, steam was practically coming out of her ears.
“Sorry, Chief Gunner,” he explained, causing her irritation to lower fractionally.
“Firing your weapons,” she demanded and at his uncomprehending look, “because of me, you keep shooting that medium laser, don’t you?” she demanded. “You think I need distracting!”
Hierophant froze before looking back into his targeting reticule, but the other fighter must have been dancing on the other side of the ship because he couldn’t see hide nor hair of it. Glancing back down at the little former tech, he considered her words carefully. Back on Tracto, if a woman had spoken to him about using his warrior skills because of her, or for her in any fashion it would have been an invitation of sorts—it would have most likely been courting behavior.
He still wasn’t sure about all the ins and outs of exactly how such things were done among the Starborn, but even so, he paused in consideration. Steiner said she was not from a Great House, merely the commons, but he cared little for titles. Great Ladies had Protectors, Minor Ladies had Guardians, and Common women had Defenders. He did not mind the idea of becoming someone’s Defender; it was not as though he came from any distinguished linage himself. But no, she had made it clear her affections were for the fat and lethargic Mike, and Heirophant had no interest in playing second consort to him.
So all he said was, “Not a chance, my lady Steiner,” and resolutely turned back to his job within the battle, his ears closed to further distracting entreaties. He had a job to do, and his was the joy of doing it!
Chapter 30: The Commodore Gets Swatted
“The Light Cruiser is venting atmo out its portside hull; I think it’s backing away, Commodore,” Druid’s Tactical Officer, Cashmere Fud, said excitedly, “this could be our chance!”
“The pirate’s probably just surprised the Dungeon ship’s armed and managed to get a shot in through its shields,” Druid said with a hungry smile. “Remind me to compliment Captain Icemark on the skill of his gunnery team. Whoever said a bunch of reservists on a glorified photo-op mission don’t know how to shoot ought to be taken to task; they got both a fighter and a hit in on that Cruiser.”
“I believe the person that called into question the gunnery skills of Captain Icemark’s command was you, Commodore,” his first officer, Quentin ‘Rampage’ Jackson, said from directly behind him. The hint of amusement in his otherwise stiff voice was far from lost on the Commodore tasked with defending the ever-expanding convoy this recruiting drive had turned into—a convoy that was currently under attack by pirates.
“Remind me to send over three shakers of Trimerian cooking spices for their gun deck after I put myself on report for such a lapse in judgment,” Druid said absently as the freighters continued to max out their engines in a desperate bid to escape. “How is No-Good doing at locking down that other fighter?” he asked, his eyes snapping back and forth as he calculated vectors and velocities.
“Lieutenant Tiger and the No-Go are chasing their tail over there, Sir,” Druid’s XO replied, “recommend we pull them back in and make a run on that Cruiser before it reaches the rest of the freighters, not just that slow-as-molasses Dungeon Transport, or whatever it is we’re calling her now.”
“Once a prison ship, always a prison ship, Rampage,” Druid told his First Officer, “a ship that dirties her soul hauling unwilling human cargo will always bear the black mark of her crimes.”
“As you say, Sir,” First Officer Jackson growled, “but the Dungeon Transport needs our help or she’s going to be in trouble; the other freighters might get away but she won’t.”
“Blast,” Druid swore, “that Light Cruiser’s got half her weaponry and a fourth her spec’s indicated acceleration. I’d hoped we would be able to dance outside of her range and deal with those fighters while she just fell out of range.”
“If wishes were warships, Commodore,” Rampage said, placing his hands behind his back as he stared forward at the main screen before glancing back down at his handheld data slate.
“Recall the No-Go and prepare to take us in,” Druid said with a sigh, “we’ll use the triad shifting pattern to try keeping our side from taking any critical hits—a blight on all pirates!”
“Recall the No-Go,” First Officer Jackson said the faintest hint of censure over using the No-Go’s informal squadron nickname, one that had ironically been embraced by her own crew, “Triad shift pattern attack run on the LC as soon as they’re here, Aye, Commodore.”
“Comm., get me Tiger on the horn,” Druid snapped to his Comm. Officer before turning to pilot. “Helm, take us in: attack pattern Triad Shift Druid One. We’re not going to wait; if we do, that Dungeon ship’s going to be venting her recruits into cold space.”
“Aye, Sir,” the Helmsman replied steadily, opening the throttle to 80% power and guiding the ship as it leaped forward, “starting attack run on pattern Triad Shift Druid One, confir
med.”
“Shooting the Captain of the No-Go over to your chair, Commodore,” the Comm. Officer said smartly, and seconds later Lieutenant Tiger appeared on the screen set into Commodore Druid’s chair.
“Tiger here, Commodore,” Lieutenant Tiger said with a grin. “We just received the Squadron’s orders and are accelerating to catch up and get into formation.”
“Good, but after you slot in, I’ve got a little side mission for you during the attack run,” Druid said with a nod to the younger ship captain.
“A little No-Good action for us, eh, Commodore?” Tiger said with a sly smile.
“The rest of us will be focusing on their engines, just like they’re going to be expecting,” Druid said, unable to keep himself from smiling, even though he had to shake his head at the younger man’s embrace of a ship nickname that started because of a bad string of equipment failures due to faulty maintenance.
Under the leadership of their new Captain though, Lieutenant Tiger, maintenance was no longer an issue. Druid suspected Tiger of hamming up the title for crew morale, but then again maybe not. Still, this new attitude was vastly preferable to having a slothful crew on a broken ship—and now was exactly the right time for their Squadron Leader to help build a little morale.
“What have you got for us ‘No-Gooders,’ Commodore,” Tiger said with a hint of eagerness.
“Like I said, they’ll expect us to go for the engines,” Druid repeated, “but you’ll be coming in late. It’s possible they won’t expect it and compensate in time when you roll over to the other side of their ship and go for their main hyper-dish instead. Just burn a few holes in it—crack it, if you can, but I’m not really expecting that—just do enough to keep them from forming a hyper-field until they can affect repairs.”
Tiger whistled and sucked on his teeth as he thought about it. “We’ll be exposing ourselves to both broadsides and breaking the pattern for a close approach,” he mused.
“Yes, it is,” Druid said, unconsciously holding his breath.
“Sounds dangerous, Commodore, and frankly this isn’t a great mission for a ship with faulty maintenance cycles,” Tiger said with a serious expression before a grin started tugging at the edge of his mouth until the serious expression cracked. “I like it! No one can say the No-Good isn’t up to the task after this; you’ve got yourself a ship full of volunteers, Sir! Let’s roast some pirate hyper dishes, No-Gooder’s,” Tiger turned his head and shouted off screen.
“I knew I could rely on your ship, Captain Tiger,” Druid said, shaking his head before cutting the transmission. Hearing an aggrieved sigh behind him, he turned to look at his First Officer questioningly.
“There’ll be no living with them after this,” Rampage sighed.
“No, there won’t,” Druid said with the expression of a happy squadron commander. “I guess the rest of the Squadron will just have to step it up; we can’t have the Flagship overshadowed by a bunch of ‘No-Gooders’ now, can we, First Officer?”
“We’ll show the No-Go how it’s done, Sir,” First Officer Jackson said into the sudden silence on the bridge, and then cracked his knuckles for emphasis, “just see if we don’t.”
A hungry growl went up around the bridge, cutting off the Commodore before he needed to say anything more.
“If I may, Sir,” Jackson gestured toward the Tactical Section, “I’ll just go have a few words with gunnery. I think it’s time to release the Rampage.”
“By all means,” the Commodore agreed, holding in a deep belly laugh by force of will and presenting an unconcerned, Senior Officer’s mask instead. A second later, the First Officer was over at Tactical and growling into the microphone connecting them to the gun deck.
“I want to see those engines pulverized, Chief. Do you hear me? Atomized, I say!” Quentin ‘Rampage’ Jackson, the erstwhile First Officer of this ship growled down to the gun deck, “There’s no way a bunch of no-good slackers over on the No-Go are going to show up this ship, do you hear me?!”
Druid couldn’t hear the reply, but whatever it was seemed to appease the First Officer slightly because all he did was thump the microphone down on the desk once for emphasis.
Druid was still listening with half an ear when Sensors called out, “We’re starting close approach now and should be within extreme range of their weaponry momentarily, Commodore!”
“Very good, Sensors,” Druid said smartly. “Helm, begin evasive pattern on my mark; Comm. is to broadcast to the other ships.” The Corvette shook around him momentarily.
“We took swat from a heavy laser, Sir; shields down to 75%,” called out the Warrant over at Shields.
“Mark!” cried Druid, after enough time had passed for the Com-Officer to link up and transit the warning, “one pass is all it’s going to take to put this poorly maintained pirate operation out of business, so stay steady and look sharp, bridge!”
Chapter 31: Workplace Distractions
“Interesting,” Hierophant muttered.
“What? What is it?” Warrant Officer Steiner asked with obvious interest.
“Light Cruiser was coming back to finish us off, but Corvettes are making an attack run,” he grunted, glancing down at her with a frown.
“What do you mean ‘finish us off’?” Lisa asked in confusion. “They barely got through our shields last time.”
“It’s just what the Chief Gunner reports Tactical is saying,” he said with a shrug.
Lisa stomped her foot. “Are we within range of your pea-shooter or about to be,” she asked in a serious voice.
“Peashooter?” Hierophant said with censure. He didn’t know exactly what the meaning of the word was, but he was pretty sure it was an insult to his weapon of some sort.
“Oh, you know what I mean; your ‘medium laser’,” Steiner said impatiently. “I’m sorry if I insulted your weapon. Really, I am,” she gave him a winning smile.
Hierophant grunted again and then broke down under the weight of her gaze. “We’re not in range,” he finally allowed.
“Great!” she exclaimed, scrambling up on to his seat with a hand hanging over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” he said, disbelief flowing over him. “You’re blocking my ability to take a shot.”
“I’m taking a look through your targeting sensor,” she explained, her bosom pressing against his face as she leaned around his head to get a look. “Out of the way for a second,” she told him, pushing his head to the side so she had enough room. “Ah ha!”
“Move,” he said flatly, knowing this was no way for a woman to act around a man—especially around his weapon, and especially in the middle of combat! A slight tussle ensued as he firmly, yet forcibly, moved her to the side.
“I just want to see what’s going on, too,” she told him crossly. “As your commanding officer I deserve to see what’s going on!”
“I need to be able to fight if that other fighter comes over here,” he warned her as soon as she was out of the way. She made a sound of protest and he sighed. “You’re just upset that I’ve got a sensor on this laser and you were kicked off the bridge,” he said, but allowed her to look over his shoulder so long as she was no longer blocking his ability to sight the enemy—and as long as she kept her bosoms from his face.
“First a joke and now an insult; why, Hierophant, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were starting to get used to me—at least enough to start letting your uptight Tracto-an hair down,” Lisa said absently before reaching around him to point at something on his targeting screen.
Hierophant spluttered and then she stiffened. Turning his attention to the targeting screen, he froze as he too was caught up in the impending battle.
As the pair watched on their single targeting screen, which Hierophant had to occasionally adjust to keep a good image of the Corvettes, those ships began a looping, twisting pattern as they advanced at the now-firing pirate Cruiser.
“They’re going to be killed,” Steiner said worriedly and Hiero
phant just shrugged.
“Watch,” he instructed her without thinking, and then wondered if he had been too forward before passing it off as in the past.
Less than half the weapon mounts of the pirate vessel lanced out at the Corvettes, and as they watched the exchange they saw all three Corvettes take fire. Although with all the dodging and weaving they were doing, no ship stayed in the same position long enough for the enemy gunners to get a firm lock.
Even so, shields overheated the closer they got until finally, the Corvettes fired shots of their own in response. None of Commodore Druid’s escort ships managed to penetrate the comparatively heavy shields of the pirate light cruiser in return, but they continued boring in close anyway.
Then, just when the Light Cruiser started to roll in response and the pair watching the battle through Hierophant’s gun sights were certain something awful was about to happen, the Corvettes broke apart. Two ships headed toward the engines of the ship, and the other spiraled around the middle of the enemy ship in a daring display of piloting.
One of the two ships took a direct blast from a turbo-laser, its shields collapsing immediately and it went spinning off with another pair of shots from a heavy laser lancing deep gashes into its hull.
There was a flash at the rear of the Light Cruiser, and Lisa closed her eyes.
“Tell me when it’s over,” she said tightly, “I can’t bear to watch!”
“The Commodore has a plan,” Hierophant said as confidently as he could.
“How can you know that?” Lisa’s eyes popped open to stare at him.
“’Have faith,’ isn’t that what you always said when we went into hiding on the Lucky Clover?” Hierophant had time to see her eyes widen and jaw start to hang open before he turned back to observe the rest of the battle.
What he very carefully did not add was that while he was certain the Commodore had a plan, if for some reason he did not, then the rest of the convoy he was protecting was about to be captured and destroyed by these road bandits of the stars. However, he had learned in their weeks together hiding on the Clover that regardless of what she said, she did not truly want to hear those kinds of thoughts.
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