The Action of 9/40/423309 Fb
© 2020 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  rabbi-tom

The Ublyudok rolled, turning damaged shields away from the fire aimed at it by two of the convoy’s escorts. The larger Confed ship returned fire and dodged, keeping the damaged shield out of danger until the effects of the EMP dissipated and damage control could repair anything physical. Despite being smaller, the Colonial ships were showing no sign of fear and no sign that they were going to quit harassing the Confed raiders.

Of course, they knew the same thing that the three Confed ships knew; they had help coming, while the Terrans had no reinforcements.

The plan had been a simple one: Get in, smash their way past the escorts and destroy as many ships in the convoy before leaving. Simple.

It got complicated as the escorts, instead of running, swarmed, and the Motherfucker’s captain had let a missile barrage get past his point defenses.

Nguyen’s second in command wrapped her tail around a stanchion as the ship’s gravity flickered and one bridge crewman retched. The rat femme was doing two jobs; her own, making sure that orders were carried out and coordinating responses, and the Captain’s job of actually giving the orders to get them through this engagement without serious damage.

Sander Haruko glanced at the stallion at times, wondering just what the fuck his problem was.

Tariano Nguyen was sitting forward in his command chair, staring not at the ship’s main tactical display but at one of his repeaters. Occasionally he would look up, fists clenched and actually cresting, to glare at the main screen. Earlier he’d sent a taunting message to a freighter, and from his tone she guessed that there was some history between him and the freighter’s captain.

“Orders?” she asked. “Captain?”

He turned his glare on her, and the rat felt her mended jaw ache. Her ears swiveled forward as he growled, “Break off. Our target’s on the other side of the convoy.”

“’Break off?’” Sander shook her head, as if she didn’t credit what her ears were telling her. Granted, the Bridge was a noisy place in combat situations, but he was sitting only two meters from her. “Sir, we’re being attacked.”

He was out of his seat in an instant, a big paw grabbing the collar of her uniform and the other curled into a fist. “You questioning my orders?” She shook her head vehemently, aware of the Political Officer straightening up from looking over the sensor technician’s shoulder and looking at her and Nguyen curiously.

“No, Sir,” she said, resisting the urge to kick him in the balls. “I’m just saying that we’re still engaged with those Colonials. If we break off before we’ve destroyed them, they’ll be on us like stink on shit.” She swallowed. “And the plan – “

He let go of her and growled, “Fuck the plan. The plan went out the airlock when the Matyeryebets got destroyed. The Durachok and Khuyesos are still engaged, and there’s Colonial reinforcements coming. I – we - won’t have another opportunity like this again.” He crested, his tail bannering behind him as he grated, “I want that fucking ship.”

The Political Officer raised an eyebrow, and the wolverine made eye contact with the rat.

Nguyen whirled away from his Exec and shouted at the Helm, “Break off, evasive! Give me a course to that T-class freighter!”


***


“Captain?” Jemel asked. “Merry?”

“Wha?” the palomino mare gasped, turning wide and frightened eyes on the wolf. He was leaning almost nose to nose with her, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you all right?” Jemel asked, his voice level but definitely strained. “Do I need to call Jax to the Bridge?”

“J-Jax?” she asked before she blinked. Jax was her second in command, tasked with taking her place if . . . if she died.

But she wasn’t dead yet.

The mare took a deep, shuddering breath and gasped out, “I’m – I’m all right. I thought – thought he was dead – “

“We all did,” Elroy said. “The question now is what the fuck do we do. We can’t outrun a Koldun’ya- class ship, and we’re not – “ he shut up as his wife glared at him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Meredith said, drawing a few more deep breaths. Think, mare, she told herself, you were a fucking officer . . . right. “We can stay inphased only so long. If they follow combat protocols, they’ll force us out of hyperspace before he can make good on his threats.” She nodded reassuringly at Jemel, and the wolf took his seat. “I guess Terra decided they needed trash like him – “

Ginny’s ears went straight up. “What’d you say?”

“Huh?”

The beagle dipped an ear. “She said that Terra needed trash – “

“Trash like him,” Meredith said.

Ginny looked from her husband to her captain, and her paws moved as if reaching out to grab a memory. “Those cruisers Mikhal told us about – “

Elroy blinked. “Collyer class.”

Meredith’s eyes widened and she put a paw to her mouth as she tried to recall what the skunk had told them. “It was a defense cruiser,” she said, half to herself. “It would . . . dump trash from its holds . . . to block incoming . . . “ Her paw scrabbled at the controls on her chair arm. “Bridge, Cargo! Christina, you there?”

“Yeah, Boss,” the cow replied. “What’s up?”

“We have trouble,” the mare replied. “Do you remember that stallion you head-butted?”

“That Coreworlder? Yeah, I – oh, shit. He’s out there?”

“Yeah, and he’s aiming at us.” An inset appeared on the main display, showing Christina’s face. She had a worried expression, and the rest of the cargo handlers were starting to gather behind her. She quickly summarized what was going on for the benefit of the others, concluding, “Our shields won’t be strong enough once we’re outphased, but do you think venting the cargo might help?”

Christina turned to look at Burton and Hui, the other two head cargo handlers. “Give us a minute,” she said, and the screen went blank.

“Dumping the cargo?” Jemel asked skeptically. “That’s a lot of money back there.”

Meredith sighed. “Yeah, I know. But it’s insured, and company policy covers emergencies.” Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. “I think this qualifies. Besides, I’m part owner of this ship, and the Captain – it’s my job to keep all of you, and the Kiss Me, safe.” She sat back, glancing down at her mug and the spilled tea.

I really should get that cleaned up, she thought, someone might slip and fall. She almost snorted aloud at the absurdity. “Elroy? Ginny?” The beagle and the rabbit glanced back at her. “I’ll want whatever the engines can give us.”

“We’ll get stress warnings from the hull if we try to do a warship’s evasive maneuvers,” Ginny pointed out.

“I know. Do the best you can. The rest of the engineer crew will be trying to hold things together.” The mare kept her eyes on the main display, centered on the three Confed ship icons. “How far away are the reinforcements?”

“Last report said half an hour,” Jemel said. “Maybe less,” the wolf added.

“Cargo, Bridge,” came Christina’s voice.

Meredith practically pounced on the intercom, and the cow’s face appeared. “I’m here, Christina.”

“How much time have we got?”

“Depends on when he manages to break off and chase us.” Meredith used her repeater to figure a likely pursuit course and pursed her lips at the result. “Best estimate ten minutes minimum to catch up; after that, it depends on when he forces us to outphase.”

“Ten minutes?” The cargo shift supervisor smiled. “Come on down here and we’ll tell what we have in mind.”

“Can’t you just tell me?”

The cow shook her head. “I want to see the look on your face, up close and personal.”

Meredith rolled her eyes. “Jemel, call Jax to the Bridge, please. He can mind things up here while I go find out what they’re cooking up.”