As he stared at the screen, at all of the ships full of artillery, ships filled with captains and crews ready, willing, and happy to tear apart the U.S.S. Beastie in record time, Admiral Donavan knew that this could very well be the end for him, and for the crew - no longer just a crew, but brave furs that he considered family.
His hackles, once raised at the thought of a death he had long run from, now settled down as he accepted the next best thing - to refuse to leave without pissing off all of his enemies one last time, to go down guns-blazing.
He slammed his fist into the arm of the captain's chair, stared determinedly at the almost-sure death that stared back at him from the screen, and gave his crew their orders.
"Give 'em hell, boys."