First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3 by MICHAEL KOTCHER Page A

barked.
                  The remaining heavy laser cannons spat fire and missiles belched from the starboard tubes, arcing around to vector in on the battlecruiser’s exposed stern.  Explosions rippled across the after section, and two of the remaining propulsion units were shredded, leaving only one left functioning. 
                  “Hit them again, Guns,” Tamara ordered, leaning forward slightly in her command seat. 
                  Another salvo of heavy lasers tore into the after section, but the propulsion unit didn’t explode.  It was still functioning but was showing scars from the carbon scoring from the near misses.  All of the rest of the wrecked propulsion units were so much slag now.  They would need to be completely cut away and replaced once the ship was brought into a repair slip.  Or rather, a repair slip would need to be built to hold the cruiser and work on her.
                  “Evasive,” Tamara said to Wymea.  “Those aft cannons are still shooting.”  The corvette jinked right just as a heavy laser blast tore through space nearby.  “Guns, you’ve been doing well, but save the missiles.  Cannons only.  Now get me that last propulsion unit!”
                  “Aye, Captain,” the Severite said, stabbing a control.
     
                  Colonel Gants pounded the right arm of his chair with his fist.  This isn’t going the way it’s supposed to.  Don’t those jumped up freighter bums know when they’re defeated?  They would dare to challenge a battlecruiser with a swarm of gnats and a shoebox of a corvette?
                  “Helm, alter course,” he ordered.  “Twenty degrees down and five points to starboard.”  That would slew the engines out of the direct line of fire from the corvette.  He couldn’t risk losing propulsion.  “Guns, open up on that damned corvette.  Ignore the fighters, just shoot down that ship!”
                  “We’ll have to cancel shield recharge,” Paxton reminded him.
                  He growled.  “Fine.  Do it.  Open fire with aft cannons, and when we change course, if we can, use the main batteries.”
                  “Understood, sir,” the tactical officer replied, activating the ship’s weapons.
     
                  Korqath flicked his antennae in frustration.  He’d lost another three of his fighters in just the last few moments.  Two of the Delphons had strayed too close to the after sections and the heavy cannons had been quick enough to blast them apart.  And one of his brave Aploras had been vaporized by a turbolaser shot when the main weapons started shooting again.  He simply was in the line of fire and hadn’t known it.  The battlecruiser’s guns opened up and fire engulfed his ship.  One second he was there, the next he was gone.
                  It seemed Captain Samair had finally gotten her act together and closed the distance.  She’d savaged the battlecruiser’s engines but hadn’t so far been able to take them out completely.  And now the big bastard was turning again to try and keep Cavalier from cutting the legs out from under her completely.  Whether it would prove successful, the pilot didn’t know. 
                  His forces, meanwhile, had been nipping at the battlecruiser’s shields, forcing them to expend energy in keeping them strong.  In more than a few cases, the strafing runs had weakened the ship’s defenses enough to cause spotting and the Aploras had managed to cause a small amount of damage to the ship’s hull.  They hadn’t tried to get a missile through; they’d been flying too fast for that.  His fighters had done little more than annoy the capital ship, but the constant shooting at the shields had been taking a toll on the cruiser’s power systems.
                  But they weren’t hurting the