Day 19. 73 pages, 32,446 words.
The larger starship had sustained some damage and was becalmed, but she still had superior firepower and armour.
She was also, fortunately, suffering from the hammering they had delivered earlier and a certain amount of consequent confusion among her crew – confusion which, with any luck, the Captain and Chief Tactical Officer would be exacerbating the Hell out of at that moment. The A-Mod 400 was rocked by some light weapons-fire as she tore and crashed away from the death-clutch of the docking spar, but the big guns shot wide.
Another advantage of the break-away manoeuvre, W’Tan reflected, was that it made you a moving target very close to – sometimes even in among – some of your enemy’s most important systems. This tended to leave them hesitant to fire too recklessly, for fear of hitting themselves. Especially with a starship like this one, shaped like a bent pipe.
The A-Mod 400, meanwhile, was constrained only by considerations of blowback damage as she merrily blasted away at the modular segment of the ship – the so-called Nope, Leftovers – and launched a spread of guided torpedoes against the main part of the vessel. Not so much to do any damage, necessarily, as to help exhaust their countermeasures and see what sort of defence sequences they used.
There were some qualified crewmembers aboard the Black Honey Wings, however, because not only did the twisted behemoth lurch into some pretty creative and hard-to-counteract evasive progressions, one of her still-mostly-functional Godfire guns hammered a hole in the A-Mod 400’s hull near the rec dome farm ring, uncomfortably close to the relative torus. It damaged one of the oxygen arcs but they could survive without full functionality there for a while. Sitting in deep space without a relative drive, however, was a bigger problem. As the crew of the Black Honey Wings were no doubt painfully aware at this point.
They were also launching some sort of concussive mines to clutter up the general area and help bounce as much damage as possible back on the aggressive little modular.
“Bring our main guns to bear on that Chrys hull connecting the main ship to the docking spar,” she instructed, as another mine-blast detonated far too close to their hull for her liking. “We want to separate the Leftovers from the main ship and give our team a chance, but also knock out their mini-whorl capability if we can.”
“Pater and Mater primed and ready,” Krader reported. “Firing.”
W’Tan watched as the eye-jarring grey bolts hammered into the spar, shattering it and sending the two sections of starship drifting ponderously in opposite directions.
“Recalibrate to new firing position,” she said, sweeping the set across to Tactical, “and take us to relative speed,” she ran the navigational calculations on the fly, keyed the commands to her console with her lower right hand and swept them to the helm with her lower left, “this volume, on my mark.”