There's a great misconception when it comes to space combat. In the holo shows it's often depicted with clear battle lines as two side fire from a distance far too short to miss, yet they do so constantly. Everyone pointed the same direction with a clear up and an obvious front to point and fire. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth.
A United Humanities New Hawaii Class Frigate is armed with Four Nuclear Torpedo Launch tubes, Six Dual 310mm Rail Batteries, Four Quadruple 175mm Rail Turrets, and Fifty-Two pin-point laser defense systems. Carefully spaced to ensure there is not a single blind spot in any direction that way we are as dangerous from the front, upper rear and direct underbelly as anywhere else. There is no true bridge in the sense of a large, obvious space where the captain and bridge crew are exposed to the outer limits. The real command center is just that, in the center, equally spaced from each section of the vessel and equally prepared to fly in whatever direction is needed. The key to victory is to use any and every angle that is necessary for an advantage.
As my frigate, the Second Wind, rushes forward at speeds far above safe velocities, a dozen weapons start to point our way. And just like that, I realize the key to my victory. These ships, every one, from battleship to gunboat, turn to face me.
"Koalshie, I want hard drop on my mark."
I watch the charge on the enemy energy lances. Waiting for the perfect moment.
"Mark!"
We shoot down. like an elevator in free fall. A dozen blasts each with enough power to rip the Second Wind in twain, pass over us. Some come so close as to scorch the hull. Once the beams dissipate, I order us to charge forward yet again. The pirates follow, trying to line their forward prows with where I am or where I will be.
"Jenkins, what does the sensor say about their power build up?"
"I can't give exact numbers but there is a huge deficit. Their weapons are charging at an exceptionally slowed rate."
"I guessed. We'd be cheese by now if they had modern power systems. And your average Granger cruiser should have around eight weapons, not one each."
"Sir, what are you getting at?"
"It'd take too long to explain. Just trust me and be ready for another hard turn."
Three hundred year old ships with modern weapon systems. It really would take way too long to explain all the problems with that. How the power needed to fire a phased particle accelerator would take up over five times more power than a ship that old would use to power every other system for a whole hour. How the cooling systems, decrepit and meant to handle dozens of weapons at once, would need to be rigged together into a single unit in order to handle just that one weapon and still not be sufficient. How the only way they could even fit such a large and complex weapon and the mountain of systems needed to adequately support it, outdated as they are, would be to effectively fuse it in place limiting the firing arch to a single, stagnate point. That and many, many other issues would arise from trying to fit such a large, square block into such a small, round hole. Yet, here we are, broken but in none the less.
"Sir, the energy is spiking. They must be ready to fire again."
"Alright Koalshie, do whatever you need to dodge those shots. Just make sure we are always moving closer. I want to be in point blank range asap."
"Understood. This is going to be a bumpy ride."
Artificial gravity is something I will never get use to. It never feels exactly right. Like a shirt that fits just fine in every spot except in one specific seam that's much tighter then all the others for no reason. It's even worse in combat. As we duck and dive through the incoming fire, the gravity does it's best to keep us steady. I've been on janky old carnival rides that jostle you around less. My stomach feels like a sock in an electric dryer on full spin. I almost lose my lunch. Jenkins does lose his lunch, shooting upwards towards the ceiling until the next hard turn propels it off to the right into a wall. Glad that's not my job. Now, back to deciding life or death for my whole crew. So much easier.
"Koalshie, hard stop. Now!'
All momentum crashes to zero, just barely missing another beam across our prow.
"Forward acceleration, double time."
The Second Wind's engines burst back to full. A Destroyer tries to follow with it's rapidly charging cannons. We keep just out of the line of fire, following mere meters behind. Finally we enter the enemy formation, the beam still following as it slice through a pirate cruiser in the crossfire. The beam stops and the cruiser crumbles into scattered scrap metal.
"Hug each ships and stay out of their forward arch as much as possible. If they want to take us out they need to fire on their own."
We weave through the tight-knit formation of ships. A proper navy has regualtion to keep vessels tens of kilometers apart. This is to make sure their is plenty of space between each vessel that won't result in crossfire and to lessen the danger of area of effect weapons. There are only a few, very specific situations where such a closely packed pattern would be beneficial. With only a single weapon per ship and all pointed in the same direction, this is one of them. Allowing for coordinated volleys of fire to increase the chances of a critical strike. It also had the duel effect of making enemies underestimate them.
It's a one trick pony, but it's a good trick. Admiral Teknove must have fallen right into the spider web. A bunch of antiques packed like Sardines is a rare chance for glory in the backwaters. Near guaranteed promotion. I can see the old coot drooling in my mind's eye. Gross.
"Have you located the Flagship?"
"I'm assuming it's the big one."
"That's a safe bet. Stay out of the line of fire. I need to test something first."
The Second Wind runs circles around and around the Pirate flagship. We are nowhere near the main gun, in a perfect orbit around it's core. Scans show what I already guessed. The shield is modern as well. A full barrage with all our weapons wouldn't even phase them. Like throwing marshmallows at a brick wall. Of course, much like the weapons, a ship this old wasn't meant to have a shield this power hungry. It would explain how we've been flying past these guys so easily. They can run the shields, the guns or the engines but not all of them at once.
"I need a full volley of torpedoes prepped and ready to fire. Koalshie, be ready to move into their firing arch."
"What? Why would we-"
"Don't ask just do. I've kept us alive this far. And I'm going to see us through. Are torpedoes ready?"
"Yes Sir."
"Straight into the beast's mouth Koalshie."
He does as told. The Second Wind repositioning directly at the Flagship's prow. We are face to face, so to speak, with a giant gun pointed right at us. The Pirates waste no time. I don't need to be told the weapon is charging, I can see it. The power of a small star concentrating into a singular point, ready to unleash the closest thing to Hellfire that exists in this reality. I see Koalshie hovering over the controls for a hard dive maneuver. At this range, he wouldn't even touch the button before the beam engulfed our entire vessel. I had a better idea.
"Sensor scan around that cannon. We only have a few seconds."
"Power concentration is reaching critical mass. Captain, we-"
"The shields Jenkins. Check the shields."
"They're... dropping. Shields surrounding the weapon are at twenty percent and still going down."
Perfect. My hunch was right. The sheer power needed for those guns is draining the energy from everything surrounding it. Including the shield generators. Now I need to hope they are low enough.
"Fire full Salvo around the cannon."
Four Torpedoes, each with enough power to wipe a large island off the map, launched from the Second Wind. Less than a second passes before they hit their marks erupting across the shield as it's blue form materializes. Attempting to hold back the immense force breaking through. It's hard to tell exactly when it failed, as what followed was light rivaling a supernova flashing so bright it overloads our systems for a few moments.
There's is no sound in space. Explosions are silent as a ghost. There is no shockwave. Just a flash and it's gone. But when the flash is that big, that all encompassing, you can feel the sound that should be there. A self inflicted punch in the gut as your body tries to recreate the feeling of power that should be overtaking your every cell. Then it's over, and all that's left is the sight of half a ship torn open like a tin can hit by a chainsaw.
The rest for the pirates flee en mass. There is no loyalty among thieves. Hopefully this will keep these scumbags out of my territory for some time. As the last ship jumps away into the void of space only one thing left to do.
"Set course to the closest damaged vessel. We have lives to save."