As the beam passed through particulates in space, it transferred a small degree of energy, normally vaporizing whatever it contacted. The light from that event would then shine out in all directions, giving scanners like those on the Hood a data point. Even two such data points, since a laser really couldn’t change course, were enough for the computers on the Hood to extrapolate the beam and then use augmented reality displays to draw it in for the crew to see.

The image looked very movielike to Ian as the beam swept across space like a giant sword lancing out of the black and vanishing back into it. All the scene needed was the requisite pew pew pew noises to complete the effect.

“Was that aimed at us?” he asked tersely, not looking up from the feed sent directly to his station.

“I don’t think so, Captain,” Weps said from the weapons and tactics station. “Judging from the beam’s angle, and other beams we’re scanning, that’s heading for the Heroics, sir.”

Great.

On the plus side, they’d only almost been killed by accident, which would have sucked royally on his epitaph. On the negative side, they now knew that there were multiterawatts of laser energy heading right for the task force. Even if the Hood were to break silence and signal a warning, the lasers would arrive well ahead of such a message.

“Stay on target,” Ian murmured to himself.

“Pardon, Captain?” his first officer asked.

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “Proceed as planned. How long to firing range?”

“Thirty seconds, Captain.”

“Good. Signal the torpedo controls,” he said. “I want them to fire as we bear. Don’t wait for orders. Helm!”

“Sir!”

“As soon as we’ve purged our tubes, go to full thrust and get us out from in front of these maniacs,” Ian said before continuing to speak in a lower voice. “Firing full beams from this far out . . . crazy sons of . . .”

►►►

IBC Shion Thon, Flagship, Third Reconnaissance Squadron

► Waiting was the worst part of combat.

She’d despised it as a junior officer and she despised it as a navarch, but it was the quintessential defining factor of fighting in the void. Each side made moves based not on what their opponent had done but rather on what they believed their opponent had done. Since finding out if you were right or not often took significant amounts of time, you spent those moments plotting rather than reacting.

The beams they were even then firing wouldn’t react with the targets for a few more moments, and once they did, Misrem knew some time would pass before results were transmitted back. That delay was closing fast, however, and in short order the waiting would give way to the second-worst thing about combat.

The dying.