Fleeting for Dummies?

Commander Keyes pulled back the camera angle and saw the alien carrier and the destroyer were still inbound toward Sigma Octanus IV. He read their position off his data pad and quickly performed the necessary calculations.
“Course correction,” he told Lieutenant Jaggers. “Come about to heading zero zero four point two five.
Declination zero zero zero point one eight.”
“Aye, sir,” Jaggers said. “Zero zero four point two five. Declination zero zero zero point one eight.” The view screen turned and centered on the enormous Covenant destroyer.
“Collision course!” Lieutenant Hall announced. “Impact with Covenant destroyer in eight seconds.”
“Stand by for new course correction: declination minus zero zero zero point one zero.”
“Aye, sir.” As Jaggers typed he wiped the sweat from his eyes and double-checked his numbers. “Course online. Awaiting your order, sir.”
“Collision with Covenant destroyer in five seconds,” Hall said. She clutched the edge of her seat. The destroyer grew in the view screen: laser turrets and launch bays, bulbous alien protrusions and flickering blue lights.
“Hold this course,” Commander Keyes said. “Sound collision alarm. Switch to undercarriage camera now.” Klaxons blared. The view screen snapped off and on and showed black space—then a flash of the faint purple-blue hull of a Covenant ship. The Iroquois screeched and shuddered as she grazed the prow of the Covenant destroyer. Silver shields flickered onscreen—then the screen filled with static.
“Course correction now!” Commander Keyes shouted.
“Aye, sir.” There was a brief burn from the thrusters and the Iroquois nudged down slightly.
“Hull breach!” Lieutenant Hall said. “Sealing pressure doors.”
“Aft camera,” Commander Keyes said. “Guns: Fire aft Archer missile pods!”
“Missiles away,” Lieutenant Hikowa replied. Keyes watched as the first of the plasma torpedoes that had been trailing the Iroquois impacted on the prow of the alien destroyer. The ship’s shields flared, flickered . . . and vanished. The second bolt hit a moment later. The hull of the alien ship blazed and then turned red-hot, melted, and boiled. Secondary explosions burst through the hull. The Archer missiles streaked toward the wounded Covenant ship, tiny trails of exhaust stretching from the Iroquois to the target. They slammed into the gaping wounds in the hull and detonated. Fire and debris burst from the destroyer. A smile spread across Keyes’ face as he watched the alien ship burn, list, and slowly plunge into Sigma Octanus IV’s gravity well. Without power, the Covenant vessel would burn up in the planet’s atmosphere. Commander Keyes flicked on the intercom. “Brace for emergency thruster maneuver.” He punched the thruster controls—explosive force detonated on the starboard side of the ship. The Iroquois nosed toward Sigma Octanus IV. “Course correction, Lieutenant Jaggers,” he said. “Bring us into a tight orbit.”
“Aye, sir.” He furiously tapped in commands, diverting engine output through attitude thrusters. The hull of the Iroquois glowed red as it entered the atmosphere. A cloud of yellow ionization built up around the view screen. Commander Keyes gripped the railing tighter. The view screen cleared and he could see the stars. The Iroquois entered the dark side of the planet. Commander Keyes slumped forward and started breathing again.
“Engine coolant failure, sir,” Lieutenant Hall said.
“Shut the engines down,” he ordered. “Emergency vent.”
“Aye, sir. Venting fusion reactor plasma.”
The Iroquois was abruptly quiet. No rumble of her engines. And no one said anything until Lieutenant Hikowa stood and said, “Sir, that was the most brilliant maneuver I have ever seen.”
Commander Keyes gave a short laugh. “You think so, Lieutenant?” If one of his students had proposed such a maneuver in his tactics class, he would have given them a C+.
He would have told them their maneuver was full of bravado and daring . . . but extremely risky, placing the crew in the ship in unnecessary danger. “This isn’t over yet. Stay sharp,” he told them. “Lieutenant Hikowa what is the charge status of the MAC guns?”
“Capacitors at ninety-five percent, sir, and draining at a rate of three percent per minute.”
“Ready MAC guns, one heavy round apiece. Arm all forward Archer missile pods.”
“Aye, sir.”
The Iroquois broke free of the dark side of Sigma Octanus IV. “Fire chemical thrusters to break orbit, Lieutenant Hall.”
“Firing, aye.”
There was a brief rumble. The screen centered on the backsides of the two Covenant frigates they had passed on the way in. The alien ships started to come about; blue flashes flickered along their hulls as their laser turrets charged. Motes of red collected along their lateral lines. They were readying another salvo of plasma torpedoes. There was something there, however, that was too small to see on the view screen: the nuke. Keyes had launched that missile in the opposite direction—but its reverse thrust had not completely overcome their tremendous forward velocity. As the Iroquois had screamed over the prow of the destroyer, and as they orbited Sigma Octanus IV, the nuke had drifted closer to the frigates . . . who had fixed their attention solidly on the Iroquois. Commander Keyes tapped his data pad and sent the signal to detonate the bomb. There was a flash of white, a crackle of lightning, and the alien ships vanished as a cloud of destruction enveloped them. Waves of the EMP interacted with the magnetic field of Sigma Octanus IV—rippled with rainbow borealis. The cloud of vapor expanded and cooled, and faded to yellow, orange, red, then black dust that scattered into space.
Both Covenant frigates, however, were still intact. Their shields, however, flickered once . . . then went dead.
“Get me firing solutions for the MAC guns, Lieutenant Hikowa. On the double.”
“Aye, sir. MAC gun capacitors at ninety-three percent. Firing solution online.”
“Fire, Lieutenant Hikowa.” Two thumps resonated through the hull of the Iroquois.
“Lock remaining Archer missile pods on targets and fire.”
“Missiles away, Commander.”
Twin thunderbolts and hundreds of missiles streaked toward the two helpless frigates. The MAC rounds tore though them—one ship was holed from nose to tail; the other ship was hit on her midline, right near the engines. Internal explosions chained up the length of the ship, bulging the second ship’s hull along her length. Archer missiles impacted seconds later, exploding through chunks of hull and armor, tearing the alien ships apart. The frigate that had taken the MAC round in her engines mushroomed, a fireworks bouquet of shrapnel and sparks. The other ship burned, her internal skeletal structure showing now; she turned toward the Iroquois but didn’t fire a weapon . . . just drifted out of control. Dead in space.

XXVIII Fretensis began dumping velocity to deal with the enemy individually and to block access to the Web. There would be no escapes. The senior communications officer beckoned WarAvocat. "Just got a squirt from XII Fulminata, sir. Personal for you. The signal was a mess. We'll have it together in a minute."
So. WarAvocat XII Fulminata deigned to speak to his auxiliaries.
Another voice: "Fighters coming in." WarAvocat faced a screen that segmented to portray multiple attacks. "None of those are of human manufacture. Hold screen till the last second. All weapons are free."
The fighters streaked in. Defensive fire reached out. Hellspinners rolled. One hapless pilot hit a mine. The screen snapped up at the last instant. It was too late for several eager pilots to avoid collision. WarAvocat asked, "How many did we get?"
"Six on the screen, sir. Eight in the mine cloud. Thirteen with fire."
"Not bad." The enemy began sniping at the mines. They wanted room close to the shield. "Watch for Lock Runners," WarAvocat cautioned. There would be soft spots in the shield while the Hellspinners raged. Most of the enemy fighters, though, went on to meet those from XXVIII Fretensis. VII Gemina's contingent were overhauling
XII Fulminata, laying fire on everything in sight, doing damage wherever the enemy had his attention too obsessively fixed on XII Fulminata.
"Message from XII Fulminata is ready to run, WarAvocat."
"Go ahead."
It began with a visual collage showing enemy tactics, a grim variation on the Lock Runner theme. The Lock Runner would pop through and spray small caliber CT slugs. The Lock Runner would race in firing and just crash and blow up. WarAvocat XII Fulminata was terse. "Our shield is destabilizing. It won't hold. We're goingpoodoostorm. Good luck, VII Gemina. XII Fulminata out."
WarAvocat muttered, "In character to the end."

"All ships disperse," Admiral Gendling's voice boomed across the bridge. "One-eighty degree turn. Prepare for combat."
Eli snarled under his breath. What did the overblown excuse for an admiral think they'd been doing?
But one of the Thunder Wasps officers, at least, didn't seem to hear any implied slight in the order. Commander Cheno was standing stiff and tall on the commander walkway, his head held high...
'Turbolasers, stand ready," he called. "Helm, bring us aft and above the Foremost. Gunners, your job is to intercept and destroy enemy fighters targeting the Foremost's dorsal surfaces."
A chorus of acknowledgements came from the crew pits...
The Thunder Wasps bridge lit up with flickers of green light as turbolaser bolts shot outward toward the incoming fighters. A few of the vulture droids were hit, shattering instantly into brilliant explosions of smoke and debris. But most of them avoided the cruiser's attack with ease.