Atk. Butterfly - Rust Bucket

Then we were in space. Frank was accepting the course from the navigator as he engaged the engines into forward and we started out. As soon as we were clear of the Pennyweight squadron, I ordered battle stations.

On the panel in front of me, yellow lights flickered at each of the gun stations on the ship diagram as each gun was test fired. I looked at the markings and was soon astounded as I realized we had something I didn’t know existed yet. We had Mark V quads, along with Mark IV quads, Mark III quads, and Mark II quads. Not only that, but there were eight of each. That ship was bristling with firepower. Some of them could even see and fire behind the ship! As I looked at the panel, I realized that it was more than just a picture of where the guns were. It showed the range of each weapon on one plane and was linked to the sensor array so that individual gunners could be targeted. Having started out a few years ago as a gunner, I wondered what the gun stations looked like. I was tempted to take a look, but knew my duty was on the bridge.

The sensor chimed lightly and I gave it my attention. On the scope, I was seeing what looked like two squadrons heading for Beulah again. There was no way that they would be able to keep that many enemy ships from taking over the near space and atmosphere, even with the Pennyweight squadron helping.

“Full speed, Frank. Battle stations!” I ordered.

As I looked out the view port, the planets and stars moved past the ship faster than ever before. Then I realized that it was we who were moving faster than before! Instead of an hour before we reached the enemy squadrons, it was only about forty minutes. Of course, if we had spotted them at the old sensor range, it would have been even less time before we reached them. Before we were in their range, our weapons were firing. I could tell by flashes passing by the ship and by the flickering yellow lights on the panel. Every manned gun was firing, whether in range or not. Already, the Mark V quads were hitting the enemy with more punch than any gun I’d seen before. Then I realized that fewer of the enemy ships were still opposing us and they hadn’t even begun firing yet! We weren’t in their range yet. Then I noticed on the panel that the Mark IV quads were making hits. That doubled the amount of hits we were scoring on the enemy who was thrown into complete confusion as he finally realized that he was facing something new.

I ordered, “Communications, send the score! Let everyone know the Rust Bucket is kicking ass out here!”

“Yes sir!”

I listened to the communications officer giving the statistics of how many alien ships were facing us and how many were already destroyed. There were already five enemy ships out of action, then six, then seven. We were now close enough that our Mark III quads were making hits. The toll of enemy ships continued to go up. I knew that anyone listening in must be thinking that it was impossible for us to make that many kills so quickly. They probably thought this was the Thurman since it was the ship I was known to be in.

I felt a small vibration. One of the panel lights went on for a moment to show where the hit was. Then it turned to green to show the location was still sound. I liked that ship even more! I didn’t have to wonder where we had been hit. Now the sensor diagram told me without someone having to go take a look, unless, of course, the sensor was damaged I reasoned. But if the sensors were working, then I could rest easy about some of the damage potential.

We were finally in range of even the Mark II quads. Everything we had was being fired at one of the enemy targets. Communications was having a hell of a time keeping up with the battle score.

Then it was over almost as fast as it began. We went right by the few remaining enemy ships with our rearmost guns still firing away at them.

Frank looked back at me and asked, “Do we finish them off?”

I replied, “Not now. We chewed them up enough that Beulah ought to be able to handle them. We have a priority mission. Just don’t let anyone stop us.”

Frank said, “Yes sir.”

I listened to the enemy broadcasts as news of our ship spread through their ranks faster than a chain reaction in a critical mass. We soon overtook a scout and blew him apart with our Mark V quads before he even knew we were there. It was my first time in a ship that could overtake a scout. If nothing else, the ship didn’t deserve the name Rust Bucket, although in time it might. It deserved some other name like Victory or Swift Revenge. Then again, maybe it did. I hadn’t even seen the outside of the ship because of the camouflage. Maybe it had a rusty hull as was typical of all Pennyweight gun ships. However, I doubted that a rust coating would ever make a ship that size look old or impotent.

Finally, I remembered the other envelope that the construction man gave me. I had tucked it beside me when I sat down. I reached down and retrieved the envelope. Looking at it, there was no instruction informing me when to open it. Then was as good a time as any I figured to open the envelope and find out what else I had to do. When the flap was out of the way, I could see the beginnings of something official. My hands trembled as I pulled the paper from the envelope and read. Then my eyes watered as I reached the word ‘regular’ just before the word ‘commission.’ There were some other papers with it. I looked at each in turn. One was a promotion to Commodore. Another paper drafted me and the Rust Bucket into the Navy for the duration. The last sheet confirmed the sealed orders as being valid and gave me full authority to chase down the enemy as I saw fit. Nowhere was there any mention of the mystery I still faced. I carefully folded the papers back and returned them to the envelope before placing them in my shoulder pack.

We made good speed, cutting the time between Beulah and the Ape-oid world almost in half. The planet seemed to be surrounded by a swarm of warships, many of them old ships from the first half of the war before the truce. There were also a lot of the newer ships. It made no difference to me. My orders were clear.

“Battle stations!” I ordered.

We went in fast with every gun station firing at anything that moved or shot at us. We took a loop around the planet as we stirred up the hornets nest to get everything they had after us. Then when they came at us, we shot them to pieces. Although we were faster and had longer ranging weapons, we weren’t invulnerable. I knew that when a sensor went red and stayed red at one gun station. I had lost a Mark III quad. Still, every other gun station was blazing away at the enemy, usually before he could get in range with his own weapons. We were leaving a trail of destruction behind us as we started circling the planet a second time. The whole time, my communications officer was doing her level best to keep up with the battle and broadcast what was happening while I felt useless again as Frank and the gunners did their jobs.

After two hours of intense firing, I realized that the sector of space surrounding the Ape-oid planet was ours. Nothing besides us moved on its own. I looked again at the sensor diagram to discover that I hadn’t noticed a second gun station go silent. We had taken another hit and I hadn’t even felt it because the ship was so large.

The communications officer looked at me for a moment as she switched off her transmitter. “Sir, what now? Should I broadcast as we go in for the rescue team?”

I thought about it for a moment. It seemed fairly obvious to me that the enemy knew we were here, but would our broadcast alert them to the presence of our rescue party down on their planet if we continued to broadcast? I decided not to risk other’s lives. I answered, “No. Wait until we have them secure. Then tell the story.”