Over the intercom, the torpedo control room responded as the crews rushed to set up for Devastator’s first shot. Forty-eight thermonuclear missiles stood ready in the Athena magazine to unleash the power of a sun upon the hapless, oblivious Marakan battle station, which was concentrating its defensive fire on Steadfast, approaching from ninety degrees offset to Devastator and Dauntless.
On Steadfast, the orange beams of her forward X-ray lasers played over Garrison Station, and on her command platform the automatic filters darkened to shield the command staff from the coruscating brilliance as three Nikes detonated almost as they left their tubes, victims of red, raining energy bolts from the station’s defensive batteries.
She shook under the crew’s feet, Garrison Station’s concentrated fire pouring into her screens, absorbing the tremendous impact. AndDevastator, rushing to draw some of the fire, hoping to protect her embattled consort, was closing the station too fast! She’d be unable to bring her forward-mounted main energy weapons, the grasers, to bear soon without ramming the station. Elena grabbed an overhead handrail and barked an order.
“Pilot, helm hard over!”
The ship heeled, nose swinging hard left away from its target, inertia crushing the battle staff into their acceleration couches.