“Man, you would bitch about anything,” Gunnery PO Second Class Santos Braham said. He’d latched down his helmet and had his feet up on the gun board. “Here we are running the biggest fricking gun in creation and you’re all ‘it’s not the Death Star!’ Puhleeeaze. Just hope like hell these suits are good enough to — ”
“Mass Driver Control, Gunnery.”
“Mass Driver Control, aye,” Braham said, his feet slamming to the floor.
“Initiate Main Gun Fire Procedure.”
“Main Gun Fire Procedure, aye,” Braham said, looking over at Zouks. “You got the book?”
“Got it memorized,” Zouks said, pulling down the gun fire manual and opening it to a marked page. “Main Gun Fire Procedure Step One: Warm Capacitor Banks One Through Fourteen.”
“Warm Capacitor Banks One Through Fourteen, aye,” Braham said, pressing the series of buttons. “Warming capacitors.”
“Step Two: Ensure Capacitor Warm State by verifying indicators One Through Fourteen colored purple.”
“Ensure Capacitor Warm State by verifying indicators One through Fourteen colored purple, aye,” Braham said. “Capacitor seven orange.”
“Crap,” Zouks said, flipping to another page. “Contact faulty capacitor crew and determine status of capacitor…”
“Come on, work you son of a bitch!” Gunnery Petty Officer Second Class Salomon Shick shouted, hammering the carbon-fiber casing with a wrench.
“Cut it, Razor,” Gunnery Petty Officer First Class Colton Shafer said, grabbing the wrench. “Cracking the case would definitely put this thing off-line. Grab the manual.”
“It’s always something,” Shick said, pulling down a thick tome. “I just fricking ran a diagnostic on this fucker.”
“Then we’ll run one again…”
“CIC, Gunnery.”
“Gunnery, CIC.”
“Main gun is temporarily off-line.”
“Main gun temporarily off-line, aye.”
“Oh, how truly good,” Korcan said. “I apologize for this lapse, Admiral.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Spectre said. “Unless I’m reading this board wrong there’s a passel of bandits headed this way, too.”
“Fighter control.”
“Fighter control, aye.”
“Determine optimum launch time for counter-fighter mission. Tell the dragonflies to get ready.”
“Why is my gun not working, PO?”
Gunnery Master Chief Daniel Todd strode into Capacitor Seven’s compartment like rolling thunder. Master Chief Todd was the chief in charge of the Main Gun. As such, by both historical custom and lawful regulation he “owned” the gun and was responsible for ensuring it was good to go at any moment. Since it was the Thermopylae’s main weapon, the chief took that responsibility very seriously. He was less than enthusiastic that at the precise moment when his gun was needed most, his gun was kaput. There were questions of manhood involved!
“Diagnostic is good on our end, Master Chief,” Shafer said, flipping through the manual. “The capacitor is warmed and ready to discharge. But main gun section is getting a fault.”
“Found it,” Schick said, sliding out from under the capacitor. “Communications relay is screwed.”
“And do you have a replacement communications relay, Petty Officer?” Todd asked, taking a sip of coffee.
“It’s stored in Compartment Nine-Nine-Two dash One compartment inventory, Master Chief,” Shafer said, looking at the computerized inventory.
“Engineering, Guns,” the master chief said, tapping his internal communicator.
“Go, Guns.”
“I need a comm relay, standby number.”
“Ready.”
“Two-One-Six-Niner-Foah-Two-Fahv-Three-Six-One-Two Dash Alpha. Compartment Niner-Niner-Two Dash One inventory.”
“Two-One-Six-Nine-Four-Two-Five-Three-Six-One-Two Dash Alpha, aye. Compartment Niner-Niner-Two Dash One inventory, aye.”
“And I need it A mothergrappin’ SAP.”
Spectre took a sip of coffee and regarded the discussion going on at the base of the CIC auditorium with interest. Three beings were involved: an Adar, standing nearly nine feet tall and wearing spandex shorts and a Hawaiian shirt; a Hexosehr, a race that looked a bit like a blind otter and disdained clothing; and a human, the lieutenant commander in charge of the Gunnery section. The three-way conference looked like it was about to become an argument.
“Do you think I should intervene?” Korcan asked.
“Your ship,” Spectre said.
“Not until they come to some consensus, then,” Korcan replied. “I would know what they are discussing, however.”
“And I think we’re about to,” Blankemeier said as the threesome made its way up to the commander’s position.
“Sir,” Guns said, looking at his Hexosehr commander and trying to pointedly ignore the human admiral sitting beside him. “The fault in the main gun has been detected. Capacitor Seven is functional, but it’s in bad communication with the main gun control. All it is is a comm relay. Local controls indicate that it is in full preparation for discharge. I wish to fire before repairs are completed on the relay.”
“And there is disagreement,” Korcan said. “Ship Technician Caethau?”
“The personnel making the judgment that the capacitor is ready to fire are undertrained,” the Hexosehr engineer replied. “I have Hexosehr personnel on the way to verify the fault.”
“Time?” Korcan asked.
“No more than seven treek,” the Hexosehr replied.
“Human terms, Caethau,” Korcan reproved. “This is a human ship. Fifteen minutes. If the fault is as determined, time to repair?”
“Another two treek,” Caethau replied.
“Adar… Monthut?” Korcan said.
“Fire,” the Adar said. “This is a battle. If you wait for everything to be perfect, you’ll never fight it.”
Korcan thought about it for a moment.
“Concur,” the Hexosehr commander said. “Lieutenant Commander Painter, you have my permission to fire.”
“Permission to fire, aye,” the human said. He turned and looked down at the guns position and made a gesture. “Firing, sir.”
“Override on Step Two, aye,” PO Braham said. “Override on Step Two.”
“Guess we’re going to have to fire without seven, then,” Zouks said. “Step Three: Pre-energize power runs.”
“Pre-energize power runs, aye,” Braham said, pressing the controls. The room began to hum as if filled by a billion bees. “I hope like hell this step works. Got purple on all power runs.”
“Report main gun prepared to fire.”
“Report main gun prepared to fire, aye…”
“ALL HANDS, ALL HANDS. STANDBY FOR MAIN GUN FIRE.”
In the end it was as easy as pressing a button. And the dreadnought, as wide as a human supercarrier was long and nearly a kilometer in length, a construction beyond any human endeavor save the Great Wall of China… shuddered. Seemed to almost stop in space…
“Yeah!” Shick shouted from under the capacitor. The discharge, despite heavy shielding, would have fried everyone in the compartment if they hadn’t closed up their armor. It especially would have fried the technician fumbling around underneath it. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
“Capacitor recharge nominal,” Shafer said.
“And this baby is still up! Charge you bastard, charge!”
The penetrator was not just a chunk of random metal. The optimum design had been found on the Karchava engineering database and slavishly copied. At the core was a long, pointed, chunk of heavy metal, in the case of this penetrator depleted uranium. Of all heavy and hard metals it was the most available to humans since it was made from reactor waste that had been reworked to remove all trace of radioactive particles.