Call to Arms (Black Fleet Trilogy, Book 2) by Joshua Dalzelle Page A
Authors: Joshua Dalzelle
Ads: Link
Barrett drowned out whatever affirmation the helmsman offered.
The auto-mag, a single barreled mag-cannon capable of rapidly firing fifteen hundred millimeter shells like a machine gun, was a hasty addition to the Starwolf -class ships. As such, it was hard-mounted in the belly of the ship with the muzzle of the gun coming out just under the pointed nose of the ship.
Since it wasn’t installed in an articulated turret, the entire ship had to be precisely aimed to fire the weapon. It was far from optimal, but it was better than nothing, and it had been a hard-fought battle on Jackson’s part to even have the weapon installed at all.
“The Artemis and Hyperion are on their way in,” Lieutenant Keller reported. “They’re asking for permission to go to active sensors.”
“Granted!” Jackson barked, mildly annoyed. Apparently both captains had forgotten that standard operating procedure cleared them for all tactical systems when actively engaging an enemy target. “What’s the status on the Icarus ?”
“They’re clearing the engagement area,” Keller said. “There appears to be some confusion on the bridge, sir. I’m unable to get confirmation that they’ve been damaged or had any malfunction.”
“OPS, get me a position on our wayward destroyer, if you can,” Jackson said. “Coms, tell the Atlas that we’ll be coming around the planet shortly after passing Alpha-Two… What is the status of Alpha-One?”
“Firing solution is locked in, Captain,” Barrett said. “We’ll be within range in under five minutes.”
“Helm! Zero-thrust,” Jackson ordered.
“Engines answering zero-thrust,” the helmsman confirmed.
“Tactical, you’re clear to assume attitude control.”
“Yes, sir.” Barrett began his targeting scripts that would pitch the Ares back up so her nose was leading the target as the two ships screamed past each other at almost thirty thousand kilometers per second. “Pitching up and authorizing fire control computer to engage the weapon. Waiting on command authority.”
“Authorized.” Jackson pressed his thumb against the display of his terminal to give the final go-ahead for the computers to assume control of the ship’s offensive systems.
“We’ve got five more ports opening up on the ventral surface,” Davis warned.
“Five seconds,” Barrett called out. “And… firing!” The auto-mag was an enormous, powerful machine, and when it began firing, it was not a subtle thing. Capable of one hundred and fifty rounds a minute, the cannon began belching out high-explosive shells at a rate of five every two seconds. The deck shook violently as the ship continued to pitch up, the attitude thrusters struggling to walk the line of fire down the line Barrett had programmed.
The auto-mag pulled so much power from the main bus that the lights on the bridge dimmed slightly as the power plant struggled to keep engines and weapons fully operational. “All shells away! Cannon clear and safe, releasing helm control,” Barrett called out.
“Helm, pitch us back down on our original course, and bring the mains back up, ahead one half,” Jackson said. “OPS, track our hits.”
“Recording impacts now, sir—Whoa!” Davis exclaimed. “Two shells hit one of the open ports. Secondary explosions visible along with multiple hull breeches, sir. Target is now moving off and no longer turning to pursue.”
“Tell the Artemis and Hyperion to try and finish it off. They may attack at Captain Forrest’s discretion,” Jackson said. “Coms! Where’s my update on Alpha-One?”
“The Atlas is no longer answering requests for updates, Captain,” Keller said.
“I’m trying to reinitialize their Link remotely, sir,” Davis reported, sounding harried.
“As quick as you can, Lieutenant,” Jackson said, completely unsympathetic. “We’ll be coming around the terminator blind if the Atlas can’t get us a good position for the enemy ship.”
Xi’an loomed large in the main
The auto-mag, a single barreled mag-cannon capable of rapidly firing fifteen hundred millimeter shells like a machine gun, was a hasty addition to the Starwolf -class ships. As such, it was hard-mounted in the belly of the ship with the muzzle of the gun coming out just under the pointed nose of the ship.
Since it wasn’t installed in an articulated turret, the entire ship had to be precisely aimed to fire the weapon. It was far from optimal, but it was better than nothing, and it had been a hard-fought battle on Jackson’s part to even have the weapon installed at all.
“The Artemis and Hyperion are on their way in,” Lieutenant Keller reported. “They’re asking for permission to go to active sensors.”
“Granted!” Jackson barked, mildly annoyed. Apparently both captains had forgotten that standard operating procedure cleared them for all tactical systems when actively engaging an enemy target. “What’s the status on the Icarus ?”
“They’re clearing the engagement area,” Keller said. “There appears to be some confusion on the bridge, sir. I’m unable to get confirmation that they’ve been damaged or had any malfunction.”
“OPS, get me a position on our wayward destroyer, if you can,” Jackson said. “Coms, tell the Atlas that we’ll be coming around the planet shortly after passing Alpha-Two… What is the status of Alpha-One?”
“Firing solution is locked in, Captain,” Barrett said. “We’ll be within range in under five minutes.”
“Helm! Zero-thrust,” Jackson ordered.
“Engines answering zero-thrust,” the helmsman confirmed.
“Tactical, you’re clear to assume attitude control.”
“Yes, sir.” Barrett began his targeting scripts that would pitch the Ares back up so her nose was leading the target as the two ships screamed past each other at almost thirty thousand kilometers per second. “Pitching up and authorizing fire control computer to engage the weapon. Waiting on command authority.”
“Authorized.” Jackson pressed his thumb against the display of his terminal to give the final go-ahead for the computers to assume control of the ship’s offensive systems.
“We’ve got five more ports opening up on the ventral surface,” Davis warned.
“Five seconds,” Barrett called out. “And… firing!” The auto-mag was an enormous, powerful machine, and when it began firing, it was not a subtle thing. Capable of one hundred and fifty rounds a minute, the cannon began belching out high-explosive shells at a rate of five every two seconds. The deck shook violently as the ship continued to pitch up, the attitude thrusters struggling to walk the line of fire down the line Barrett had programmed.
The auto-mag pulled so much power from the main bus that the lights on the bridge dimmed slightly as the power plant struggled to keep engines and weapons fully operational. “All shells away! Cannon clear and safe, releasing helm control,” Barrett called out.
“Helm, pitch us back down on our original course, and bring the mains back up, ahead one half,” Jackson said. “OPS, track our hits.”
“Recording impacts now, sir—Whoa!” Davis exclaimed. “Two shells hit one of the open ports. Secondary explosions visible along with multiple hull breeches, sir. Target is now moving off and no longer turning to pursue.”
“Tell the Artemis and Hyperion to try and finish it off. They may attack at Captain Forrest’s discretion,” Jackson said. “Coms! Where’s my update on Alpha-One?”
“The Atlas is no longer answering requests for updates, Captain,” Keller said.
“I’m trying to reinitialize their Link remotely, sir,” Davis reported, sounding harried.
“As quick as you can, Lieutenant,” Jackson said, completely unsympathetic. “We’ll be coming around the terminator blind if the Atlas can’t get us a good position for the enemy ship.”
Xi’an loomed large in the main
Similar Books
