Free Gray Panthers: Dixie by David Guenther

long sip of coffee. “I don’t even want to think about what the hull looks like, after all the hits we’ve taken from the asteroids.”
    “The bright side, though, is when we get back home, we have our junior-most member of the crew here to repair all the dents and scratches before he repaints the hull,” Chief Petty Officer William “Guns” Wright replied, laughing as he stuffed a huge handful of popcorn into his mouth.
    Short Blade wasn’t sure if they were jesting or not, since he still couldn’t figure out human humor. He decided to lick his paw clean of the butter. That always seemed to amuse his two friends and change the topic of conversation.
    “I think we should get back to our stations. I have a feeling things are going to hit the fan soon, and I get nervous letting those Dart drivers man our stations to keep them from getting bored,” Jimmy said, refilling his cup to take back with him to the port weapons station that doubled as his berthing area.
    Guns followed his example and departed for the starboard weapons station. Short Blade quickly ran his paw along the bottom of the empty popcorn bowl, collecting the butter, and then proceeded to engineering to do a quick physical check of the ship’s systems.
    “Condition red. Condition red. Man your battle stations,” blared from the speakers before any of the three made it to their stations. Beater had informed Captain Johnson that there was an eighty percent chance of success, and he was going to go on the attack.
    “Pilot, jump to our first target. Ensure proper attitude and altitude so we can bring to bear all weapons on the target.” Johnson fought to keep his excitement in check as his body shook with energy. The Beater jumped to a position only a mile from the tanker as all weapons stations opened fire. The initial barrage ignited not only the ship but also the line of transports ferrying supplies. Johnson watched in horror as the refinery became a firestorm in space. The outer edges of the gas giant exploded into flames, engulfing the remaining tankers and four of the warships in fire.
    Beater didn’t wait for orders, using the FTL drive to jump the ship an additional thousand miles from the gas giant.
    Johnson snapped back to alertness from his shock when he realized that the ship had jumped without his orders. “Who jumped the ship without my orders?” he shouted as he leapt to his feet. Adrenaline coursed through his body, causing him to shake.
    “Captain Johnson, I jumped the ship or we would have been incinerated. It appears the refinery was releasing an unknown agent into the upper atmosphere of the gas giant that acted as a catalyst to quicken the refinery process. Seven of the remaining eight warships have severe damage and are broadcasting for assistance. The eighth ship is trying to conduct rescue operations on its own,” Beater reported.
    “Is the space dock facility providing any assistance to the rescue operations?” Johnson asked, dreading the answer he knew would come.
    “Captain, the entire facility has been destroyed, along with all ships that were in the immediate facility of the space dock and refinery,” Beater reported.
    The thought of providing humanitarian aid went through Johnson’s mind as the catastrophe continued to unfold before them, until he snapped back to his duty.
    “What can you determine about the damages to the ships, Beater?”
    “Enemy ships were too close to the explosion and are all heavily radiated. I doubt if any of the crews will survive. The ships could be used again once the radiation levels are reduced. The eighth ship has minor radiation damage and the crew is partially incapacitated. We would have no difficulty in destroying it if we attacked now—”
    “Have we sustained any damage from the gas giant?” Johnson interrupted.
    “Slight damage to the hull. Ship is still fully—”
    “Pilot, set course back to Flem. We will use the facilities there to repair our ship and then decide