Free Serengeti by J.B. Rockwell Page B

Just. That’s why they’d scrapped them, and went through all the trouble and expense to rip the guns back out the ship that carried them.
    Apparently, the DSR had done the same calculations and come to a different conclusion. Or else they’d found a way around the weapons flaws. Developed some sort of shielding, maybe, to prevent a similar tragic event.
    Or maybe they just don’t care, Serengeti thought to herself. Maybe they’re willing to risk their crews for the firepower the gun offers.
    Trinidad’s liquid laser rounds smashed into the leading edge of the Meridian Alliance spearhead, splattering themselves across the Titans and Auroras at its tip. A few swirling red globes passed through the front line and slammed into the next wave of ships. At first it looked like nothing happened, then damage reports started flowing in.
    Intrafleet comms erupted with communications, ships slowed and skipped aside, trying to dodge Trinidad’s fire. Those near the edges were successful but the center of the ships at the center of the spearhead were packed in tight with almost nowhere to go, no room to maneuver. A bright flare erupted at the front of the spearhead—an Aurora named Sorrow, drifting off line, breaking formation. She veered hard to starboard, scraping against Percival, obliterating two side cannons, taking out the plating around them for good measure, leaving Percival with a sparking, gaping wound.
    Percival recovered and brought himself back in line. Sorrow wasn’t so lucky.
    “Breach,” Finlay called. “ Sorrow’s got a breach!”
    “Dammit,” Henricksen swore.
    A yellow-white plume puffed from the Aurora’s side, flickering, flaring as it licked at empty space. The plume burned brightly for a few seconds and then abruptly died. And a half second later, Sorrow exploded.
    Shocked silence engulfed the bridge, everyone staring as Sorrow’s hull cracked and cracked again, shredded into half a dozen large pieces. Bits of metal flew outward, peppering the ships around her as the remains of Sorrow’s body spun lazily, drifting off into darkness.
    The fleet moved, leaving Sorrow’s dead carcass behind.
    “God speed, Sorrow, ” Henricksen whispered as Serengeti passed her by. “God speed.”
    “ Trinidad in range,” Serengeti announced. “ Brutus sends word: All ships are to fire at will.”
    “Right.” Henricksen scrubbed a hand through his short-cropped hair. “You heard the man, Sikuuku. Destroy that bastard. And get the starboard batteries on Parallax and its damned gun.”
    “Aye, sir!” Sikuuku relayed the second half of Henricksen’s message to the other batteries and then hunkered down in the Artillery pod. His fingers squeezed the triggers, sending bright blue orbs of death spinning into the darkness.
    Henricksen slammed his hand against a panel, sounding the ship’s alarm. “Kusikov! Comms! Wide open. Ship-wide address.”
    Kusikov twiddled his fingers. “Floor’s yours, sir!”
    “All hands,” Henricksen called, addressing his crew. “All hands to stations. We’ve engaged the enemy fleet. We’re going in.”

Six
     
    Chaos erupted, plasma bolts and fractal laser cannons lighting up the darkness outside. Rail guns sputtered and spat, obsidian fire streaking in dark lines interrupted at regular intervals by the tracer rounds the gunners loaded to help them aim. Serengeti cruised along just a few kilometers off Brutus’ starboard side, and fired with the others, adding the full power of her forward guns to the attack.
    Death poured from a thousand different guns ranged across the Meridian Alliance fleet, all of them aimed at Trinidad and the thirty or so small ships unlucky enough to be positioned around him.
    Shots landed on both sides of the confrontation, scoring across the metal skins of the Meridian Alliance vessels, tearing at the hulls of the DSR ships. A Sunstorm named Daedalus exploded spectacularly, sides blowing outward, smashing into the DSR ships on either side. But the