He stared at the screen, watching as the AI updated damage assessments from the enemy vessel. It was an imperfect list, just scanner data interpreted by a computer. There was no real way for him to know what was happening over there. But if the assessments were close to the mark, the deadly accuracy of his gunners had come at least fairly close to evening the score in the fight.

He didn’t need estimates and assessments to know that the enemy’s fire had weakened, that several of their batteries had been silenced. But Dauntless had been hit hard too. The immense battleship was riddled with great tears in her hull. His damage control crews had worked miracles keeping as many systems online as they had, but Barron knew it was only a matter of time before even miracles would be inadequate.

“All batteries, maintain maximum fire.” He tried to keep the frustration from his voice, realizing his efforts had been woefully inadequate. He had nothing else to say, though, no words to offer but a renewed order for his people to keep shooting. He wracked his mind, trying to think of some tactic that might give him an edge, but at this range there was nothing for the combatants to do but pound away at each other, and hope to inflict more damage than they sustained. Somehow.

“Captain…” Fritz’s voice came through his headset. The engineer’s voice was hoarse, the tension and exhaustion clearly evident in each forced word. “We’ve got the primaries online, sir…but it won’t last. Reactor A is on the verge of a meltdown, and B is even worse. I’ve got to cut to fifty percent power or we’re going to lose both of them…and maybe the whole ship if I can’t maintain containment. I can give you thirty seconds, sir, maybe forty-five. But you’ll have to make it count.”

“Fritzie, I’d give you a big wet kiss if you were up here.”

He turned toward Travis. “We’ve got one shot with the primaries, Commander.” It took a little over a minute to recharge Dauntless’s main guns, so thirty seconds—or what was left of that now—was going to give him one chance to do some meaningful damage.

“That’s good news.” He could hear the relief in his exec’s voice.

“I want you to handle the targeting.” Travis had come up in gunnery, and she’d left an excellent record behind her when she’d advanced into the command track. Barron knew many of Dauntless’s gunners were as good, but this was a vital shot. And Travis was as unflappable a veteran as he’d ever seen.

“Yes, sir.” Travis turned, leaning forward and pressing her face against the scope. “I’ll target amidships, sir. Dead center. With any luck the primaries will…”

“Negative, Commander. I want you to target the engines.”