“I’ll send the order out at once, sir,” said the executive officer.
The fleet pulled into tight formation and headed toward the Imperial base. They were halfway there when the fleet gunnery officer entered the control room and said apologetically to Commander Krogson, “Excuse me, sir, but I’d like to suggest a trial run. Fleet concentration is a tricky thing, and if something went haywire—we’d be sitting ducks for the ground batteries.”
“Good idea,” said Krogson thoughtfully. “There’s too much at stake to have anything to go wrong. Select an equivalent target, and we’ll make a pass.”
The fleet was now passing over a towering mountain chain.
“How about that bald spot down there?” said the Exec, pointing to a rocky expanse that jutted out from the side of one of the towering peaks.
“Good enough,” said Krogson.
“All ships on central control!” reported the gunnery officer.
“On target!” repeated the tech on the tracking screen. “One. Two. Three. Four—”
Kurt stood by the front observation port watching the ground far below sweep by. He had been listening intently, but what had been said didn’t make sense. There had been something about batteries— the term was alien to him—and something about the garrison. He decided to ask the commander what it was all about, but the intent-ness with which Krogson was watching the tracking screen deterred him. Instead he gazed moodily down at the mountains below him.
“Five. Six. Seven. Ready. FIRE!”