the emergency spacesuit as she unstrapped from her seat. As she floated free in the bridge, she pulled herself into the suit, yanking herself back down as she sealed it around her neck.
Then she grabbed her helmet and keyed the general alarm.
The jarring
bong-bong-bong
sounded throughout the ship for eight seconds, enough time for Breeze to snap her helmet in place and strap into her seat again. Then she hooked her helmet into the ship’s broadcast.
“Battle stations! Battle stations!”
The two fast-moving objects were almost upon her. As panic welled up she opened the throttles and pulled hard to starboard on the stick, grimacing as the g-forces pulled her to the left. She reversed her turn and reached for the automatic weapons setting, having lost sight of the attackers.
The bridge door flew open behind her. In the reflection of the windows she saw Thomas diving into his chair, helmet still in his hand. He flashed up his console even as Katja fumbled through the airlock and found her station.
“Report!” The captain’s voice was loud, but steady.
She reversed her turn again, straining against the acceleration.
“Centauri frigate bearing zero-four-zero mark one-zero-zero, closing fast. Two missiles launched, inbound.”
“Confirm missile launch?”
“Yes.”
Breeze felt a faint buzz in her seat. Her console indicated that the tail turret had opened fire. One of the inbound targets disappeared from her 3-D display.
The other veered off dramatically.
Chief Tamma finally reached the bridge, scrambling along the starboard bulkhead to his seat.
“Weapons to manual,” Thomas said, strain appearing in his voice.
Tamma flashed up his console and within seconds had taken the conn.
A silvery object sailed past
Rapier
’s bow.
“Target crossing!”
Breeze tried to lock on, designating the top turret to engage.
“Hold fire!” Thomas ordered. “Hold fire!”
Breeze saw the red veto light ignite on her console, as Thomas locked out the weapons.
Katja spoke up. “Centauri frigate one-eight is closing, shining with fire-control radar. They’ve got us locked up.”
Breeze switched her console from OOW to NavO, which gave her clearer access to the weapons. Top turret was still trying to lock onto the small object that was buzzing around
Rapier
. She designated all three remaining morningstars to the frigate. Why were the Centauris being so openly aggressive?
“Break engage!”
The command from Thomas was clear, if incomprehensible. Breeze de-assigned the morningstars and top turret. She felt heavy as Tamma pulled the ship away from the adversary.
“Goddammit, sit tight!” Thomas shouted. “That wasn’t a missile—it was a robotic sentry.”
A what? Breeze forced air into her constricted lungs. Everything around her had gone wrong so fast that she didn’t even know what to think. She barely registered the next thing Thomas said, speaking on the external radio.
“Centauri warship, Centauri warship, this is Terran warship off your port bow. Withdraw your sentry. Withdraw your sentry. Over.”
The 3-D display revealed four more small objects moving around the frigate. The lone sentry near
Rapier
seemed to hesitate in the space between the ships. Finally, a response in a crisp, Centauri accent sounded over the circuit.
“Terran warship, you have conducted a hostile act against my vessel. Over.”
Breeze looked back at Thomas, ready to explain that it was the Centauris that had fired first. He didn’t meet her eye, instead glaring at his 3-D display. He swore under his breath.
“Centauri warship, there has been a terrible mistake. Your sentry approached my vessel too quickly, and was misidentified as a missile,” he said. “We want to de-escalate this situation, and have turned away from you. Withdraw your deployed sentry. Over.”
After a moment, the single robot sentry began to move back toward its mother ship.
“Terran warship, I… am also de-escalating.”
There was a pause,