He was surprised, but he put his arms around her and pulled her close. Then he leaned back. “What was that for?”

“I’m so glad you’re okay. I thought…”

“You thought I wasn’t going to make it? Me? The best pilot we’ve got?”

“Well…that was…just…”

“Landing control officer bullshit?”

“Encouragement.”

“And that kiss? Do you do that for every pilot who brings in a damaged bird?” He smiled, watching as her relief gave way to her normal discipline. “Or is that just for the best pilot we have?”

“You’re an ass,” she said, but she couldn’t force the smile from her face. “But welcome aboard. It’s good to have you back.” She lunged forward and hugged him again.

*   *   *

“Enemy vessel entering range in four minutes.”

Barron heard Travis’s words, but he knew they were meaningless. The enemy ship would be in range of Dauntless’s primaries in four minutes, but the main guns were still down. And it would be at least another four minutes after that before the secondaries came into play.

The important question was, when would Dauntless come into range of the enemy’s main weapons? And despite his analysis of every scrap of intel in the database, Barron realized that came down to a wild guess. Confederation intelligence’s notes indicated that the Alliance didn’t have anything that could match the particle accelerators on Confed battleships.

Maybe they’re better off without the temperamental beasts…

The heavy guns required an enormous amount of power to charge, and they had a relatively low rate of fire. They were hard to keep online too, subject to all sorts of breakdowns.

Just the kind of issue it’s easy to ignore in peacetime. But can the things stand up to battle conditions?

Barron realized his people would be the test case on that. The particle weapons were a relatively new development, one that had been introduced during the last war but had not seen significant action.

They’d better be effective…the whole fleet’s committed to them now.

“Two minutes to range…”

Barron looked down at the com unit for about the fiftieth time. He hated commanders who badgered their crews, especially when the personnel had proven their reliability. He knew Fritz was doing everything possible to restore the operational status of the main guns. Nothing would be accomplished by nagging her. Nothing.

He tapped the com anyway, putting his hand on the headset strapped on his head. “Fritzie, I know you’re doing all you can, but I need a status…”

“We’re on it, sir,” the engineer snapped back. It wasn’t disrespect in her voice, but she was clearly distracted, her mind focused on what she was doing. “I’ll let you know as soon as I know…”