No Middle Ground by Caleb Wachter

Author:Caleb Wachter [Wachter, Caleb]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XXV: Closing the Trap

“The Destroyer’s forward shields are down, Captain, and she’s re-oriented to present her stern to us,” Sarkozi reported. “She’s burning her engines at 220% their rated output and she’s making for the hyper limit. Stern shields read…32% with moderate spotting.”

Middleton thumbed his com-link as he saw that the Destroyer had assumed a course which was markedly different than the one he had predicted. “Alexander,” he said as soon at the junior Engineering officer had received his call, “I need those engines for another burn, and I need that burn right now.”

“We’ve had to re-route power, Captain,” Alexander replied. “I can give you the burn, but there’s no guarantee with the grid’s current alignment that the forward shields will withstand another attack without blowing the relays.”

“Just do it,” Middleton ordered, “without that burn we won’t be able to keep them in range long enough to finish the job.”

“Destroyer is passing out of long range and into extreme, Captain,” Sarkozi reported as the Pride’s forward array fired as one. “Five hits,” she reported urgently, “the Wrath’s stern shields are down to 12% with critical spotting—one more salvo should cripple her engines.”

“Overdrive ready, Captain,” Alexander said over the link.

“Burn it, Helm,” Jersey snapped before Middleton could do so, “and adjust course seventeen degrees to starboard.”

“Aye, Commander,” the new Helmsman replied, and the ship’s lighting dimmed as the vessel’s precariously-aligned power grid sagged under the combat draw.

Their icon pursued the Destroyer’s on the main viewer for several seconds, until Captain Rodriguez apparently realized his new course would allow Middleton another full-strength salvo while they remained within the Pride’s heavy laser firing range, so he adjusted his course precisely where Middleton had wanted him to go.

“Without communication we’re going to have to trust the Chief’s judgment,” Jersey said after approaching Middleton’s chair.

Middleton snickered softly. “The Chief’s never been one to miss an opening,” he assured his XO. “He won’t need us to give him the order to fire when they’ve entered range.”

“The Destroyer’s forward shields are still down, Captain,” Sarkozi reported hungrily, and a few seconds later there was a flash from the heretofore-grey icon representing the powered-down Elysium’s Wings.

Chief Garibaldi had gone over to the corvette after their senior staff meeting to re-rig the emergency battery system to the corvette’s plasma cannons, which while possessing extremely short range, were absolutely deadly up close—especially when their target’s hull was unshielded.

The team aboard the Wings had powered down all systems aboard the corvette, including life support, and Garibaldi’s crew had gone over in power armor so as to minimize the ship’s energy emissions. In fact, he had taken the four Tracto-ans over to manually fire the plasma cannons, since none of the gunners were confident they could make the extremely difficult shots without computer assistance.

“Four for four,” Sarkozi said savagely, confirming the Tracto-an’s impressive manual targeting skills, “explosive decompressions showing all along the Wrath’s forward hull; her power grid is fluctuating and the stern shields are nearly down!”

“Send one up her skirts,

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