A deadly combination of missiles, forward cannon, and turrets utterly obliterated the target. A fierce grin of triumphant satisfaction played across the wild-eyed face of the Orca's new gunner. She swung the gunnery chair in a wide arc, searching out fresh victims. There were none. Kreg was busy operating the scanner and tractor, in tandem, picking through the plethora of flotsam left behind. Only four pilots could be recovered. But they had engaged over twenty bogies this mission. That was not good odds. After all, each pilot was only worth a bounty taken alive. Dead ones were redeemable for squat. Rage shot his engineer a look accompanied by a nod. They had been working together long enough now, they had near telepathic signals. Kreg knew that his boss was giving him the helm and he was to head the ship back to the barn.
"Veronya." It was Rage.
"Yeah?"
"My quarters," he demanded tersely in a deep commanding voice, turned and left without waiting for a response.
Kreg concentrated on the task at hand, intentionally avoiding the obvious gaze of the gunner. He knew she was about to experience the reason 'why' Rae Jerroll had worn the appellation 'Rage' since grade school. He had earned it fair.
Vronnie shrugged and moved to the doorway. She was still feeling the rush of battle, it coursed through her body like glorious fire. All was right when she could kill pirates. She climbed down the ladder and spun to face the captain's cabin door. It was conveniently located opposite the base of the ladder, across the corridor. She drew a deep breath and rapped on the door.
"Come," replied her captain in a rough voice. She complied, pulling open the heavy titanium door and slipping into the cabin. She only thought about it for a second before deciding to pull the door shut behind her. She stood before him now, confused but still flush with the thrill of combat.
Rage was seething. The reason they were out here was for the money. He needed it to properly outfit the Orca for his future operations against their mutual enemy. To recover only four of a twenty-ship strike package... he shook his head... then took a breath to steady himself.
"Vronnie. What are you playing at?"
Her face fell. She didn't understand the question. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I thought you understood the mission of this ship!" he growled, taking a menacing step toward her.
"Well... I do."
"Then why the hell are you sabotaging it?"
"Sabo... I am not..."
"Look! We need every enemy pilot alive! EVERY ENEMY PILOT!" His raised voice affected her more than he would have suspected. Her tough veneer slipped away and she straightened her back and came to attention. He stepped into her area of comfort, thrust his face into hers. "Now why have you been leaning on the weapons for the past two days? You are a fine gunner... you know better... when a ship starts to blow, you don't continue to hammer her..."
"Yes sir," was her only response to the barrage.
He stood glaring at her for several long seconds then waved an agitated hand through the air. "Alright. Made my point. Dismissed." She turned to go and Rage threw in a parting remark in a faint whisper, "meant what I said about you being a fine gunner..."
Ignoring the belated compliment, she turned and left.