“Laser Cannon 304 down,” reported Gnomboch. “I apologize, Ship Commander.”
“Don’t apologize. It isn’t your fault,” she said, coming down on him somewhat. For whatever reason, newly appointed soldiers feared Lafier an inordinate amount, and she was sad that she’d ended up getting used to such treatment. “Can it be stowed away?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll stow it right away.” The rookie starpilot rushed to tuck the cannon back into the ship.
“Inspector Supervisor, see that it’s repaired,” ordered Lafier.
“Roger.” She issued her own commands to the Mechanics NCCs on standby on the starboard side. “Team Aydriahn, hurry to the Turret Cluster 3 Storage Deck.”
“Another three mines incoming,” said Ecryua. “...There they go.”
Fortunately for them, their point of fusion was elsewhere.
“The bubble of the Pancaubh is gone!” reported Yatesh. An allied ship, down.
Lafier nodded slightly. She hadn’t needed to be told; the area the Pancaubh occupied moments prior was now home to a giant mass of space-time particles. She had grown quite accustomed to this pressure since her days captaining an assault ship. And while right now, all they had to protect them was the mobile turrets, it all boiled down to the same simple do-or-die equation as always. She and her crew could very well lose their lives in a flash. For that reason, among others, they were obligated to run through every available option.
“I have received a report regarding the damaged cannon,” said the Inspector Supervisor. “It will take more than three hours to repair it.”
“And what do you think, Inspector?”
“I have no doubts as to my subordinates’ competence.”
Lafier was of the same mind. At the very least, she trusted Grinshia. “In that case, you are to order your subordinates to go back on standby.”
“Understood.”
Lafier figured that rather than making them work on repairs that wouldn’t be completed before the battle was over, she had best let them rest. They’d need to work their tails off in the time to come.
Her wristgear rang; someone wished to tell her something in confidence. This couldn’t be some trifling concern, either. Those who didn’t really know Lafier were phobic of her as an Abliar, and among those who did know her well, there were none who’d disturb her in the middle of combat.
“Ship Commander,” said Grinshia. “May I hazard an opinion?”
“Can you keep it brief?”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe you ought to let them repair it.”
“Why?”
“To keep them distracted, ma’am.”
“I see,” Lafier nodded. If she says so, it must be true. She used to be an NCC herself, so she must know how they feel all too well.
Starpilots and NCCs fought alongside one another, but one of the ways their experiences differed was their battlefield mentalities.
The mines’ dance of death began nearing them once again. Lafier turned off the wristgear and shifted the stance of the ship before giving the Inspector Supervisor her orders: “Change of plans. You should have them repair it after all, but consider it low-priority.”
“Roger,” she replied, somewhat cheerily.
The first stage of the attack was behind them, but soon they would face a daunting showdown — an engagement with an enemy patrol ship.
“An inter-bubble communication from Squadron Command,” reported Yatesh. “‘The Flicaubh is to fuse with Enemy Bubble 102.’”
“Send an agac féchotr (roger-that signal),” said Lafier.
The Commandant had seemingly chosen their opponent for them. The only question was whether the enemy would bite — and bite they did. It appeared the enemy bubbles were not inclined to fuse with each other, opting for one-on-one confrontations.
Lafier looked at her left hand. If only a control gauntlet were equipped onto it... “Assume combat acceleration.”
“EM cannons readying to fire.”
“Assuming combat acceleration,” said Grinshia. That instant, a low hum filled the bridge. “Main engines, full throttle. All clear.”
“EM cannons, all clear,” said the Gunner. “Safeties released, and first shot loaded. We can punch it at any time.”
“This is your Ship Commander speaking,” announced Lafier over the speakers. “The ship will be engaging in a dogfight, reaching G-forces outside of the gravity control system’s power to absorb. All hands are to brace themselves.”
The inner surface of the bubble exhibited signs of fusion. If they’d witnessed it visually, it’d appear as shining rainbow ripples to the naked eye.
“Aim the bow toward the fusion point,” Lafier ordered Arbohf. “You may fire as you see fit. I shall leave the steering to you.” She reckoned it would behoove the ship to entrust things to the pilot, without any verbal direction from her.
“That’s what I’m talking about, ma’am! Um... I mean, roger that,” he said, going from amped to solemn.
Lafier’s envy spiked, and most of the people on the bridge no doubt shared her sentiment. It was utterly natural for any given Abh to want to pilot a huge warship totally in sync with their own body.
Lafier spied the space map. The blue dots representing allied ships and the red dots representing the enemy drew ever closer until, at last, they collided, and turned into purple dots representing individual clashes. The purple dots popped up one after the other, and eventually, it was the Flicaubh’s dot’s turn. Its bubble and that of the enemy (numbered 102) combined, to be labeled by the map as “Combat Bubble 17.”
“Firing!” Arbohf discharged the EM cannons a split-second before bubble fusion. The whole hull screeched.
“Fusing,” mentioned Ecryua, almost sleepily.
Even as the two bubbles became one, the enemy launched six nuclear fusion shells their way. The mobile turrets capable of sweeping the front of the Flicaubh with fire roared to life.
The fusion shells, which were blasted at around a hundredth of the speed of light, were tougher targets than mines. Still, one was neutralized by the firing line. Arbohf made the Flicaubh skid to the side, as to dodge the remaining shells, which streaked past its portside. The left-side turrets sought to bombard them with a shower of beams; the shells the Flicaubh fired in addition missed their marks. The EM cannons’ next shots were loaded somewhere deep within the raid ship and launched without delay. These missed as well.
Lafier felt frustrated, to the point she found herself hoping Arbohf would fall out of his seat for her.
While the same was true of all ship types in wartime, there was little leeway in the makeup of the crew of a raid ship, and the bridge personnel were no exception. Arbohf was the one and only Gunner. If he proved unable to execute the mission, the Ship Commander would then take his place. Of course, she didn’t actually wish injury upon a subordinate, not even in jest. If the bridge ever took enough damage for somebody to get hurt badly enough to incapacitate them, they were all dead anyway.
She was expecting extreme fatigue on his part, but Arbohf was having the time of his life maneuvering the ship. Her jealousy only worsened, but a ship commander had a ship commander’s work to do. “Gnomboch, set the range of all of the turrets to ‘no limit.’”
After several exchanges of fire, the Flicaubh and the enemy ship passed each other by. A patrol ship was an easier target than a small and nimble mine. They could hit it with lasers from a distance they could never hope to hit a mine. Both ships spewed their beams and scored some damage, but naturally, they succeeded only in scratching one another. If laser cannons were enough to wreck a giant war vessel, there would be no need for antiproton or EM cannons.
After they zoomed past each other, the rear EM cannons of both screamed out. One of the enemy’s shells exploded close by, catching the Flicaubh in a shockwave full of pelting shrapnel.
“Breach in Storehouse 2!” reported Jint. “No injuries to personnel. Pressurization intact.”
The two warships jostled for position in a bid to land a fatal strike on the other.
Lafier’s eyes were on the space map — it seemed the fight in one bubble had concluded. Its representative dot turned yellow, signaling it was unclear what happened within.
And that dot was headed toward them.
“No signal identifying them as allies,” reported Yatesh. “It would seem the Tacecaubh has been destroyed.”
The yellow space-time bubble turned red and was newly labeled Enemy Bubble 211. And it was coming for them.
“Hurry!” Lafier told Arbohf. “Fresh troops are coming in on their side. Though if you’re of the belief that one ship to contend with isn’t sufficiently formidable, we could stay instead.”
“Let’s not, ma’am,” said Arbohf. “My life is on the line, too, after all.”
“And my life is expendable?” asked Ecryua.
“I had my hands full worrying about my own life,” he replied.
“Vice Captain,” said Lafier. “Steer towards ten o’clock.”
“Roger.” Ecryua focused on guiding the bubble.
However, the bubble now contained more than just the Flicaubh. Enemy ships were also loaded with space-time bubble generator engines.
What was an extra foe to the Flicaubh was reinforcements to the enemy; naturally, they tried to draw closer. The two bubble generators dueled, but Ecryua was the better steerer, if only by a hair. Their bubble was staggering, but it moved toward ten o’clock all the same. Yet the bubble pursuing them was faster.
The Flicaubh secured a position to fire from and showered the enemy in fusion shells from the flank, but their target dodged. Now the enemy had the firing lines of its mobile turrets concentrated on the bow.
“EM Cannon 1 down!” exclaimed Arbohf.
Even lasers could dole out that level of damage.
“Can it be repaired?” Lafier asked Grinshia.
“No, it can’t,” replied the Inspector Supervisor immediately.
“I surmised as much.” Lafier glanced at the Gunner.
“Oh well. I’ll manage, somehow,” said Arbohf.
“Okay,” Lafier nodded.
The enemy ship’s attitude control system groaned as it attempted to point its bow toward them. The Flicaubh’s main engine was in full throttle, the crew trying to close the distance before the enemy was aligned — and the Flicaubh won that race. It appeared they’d be able to fly past the enemy before they would get taken hold of by their bow.