Tesla lasers caromed off the force shield cradling the hull of the Pulsar Wind as Captain Novax brought her about from the docking station.
“I can order a bag of Sarturian snails in Hantoran and ask for fries, aside from some choice cuss words, that’s about the extent of my planetary linguistic skills your Empress-ship.”
“Well what good is that going to do now? I hardly think Sarturian snails with stop these hyper Hantoran fighters.”
“Only if they’re hungry, Emp baby, only if they’re hungry.” Captain Novax abruptly ended their puppy love repartee and jerked down an overhead console with heads up displays. With a few quick waves of his hand a battery of panels slid open on the Pulsar Wind’s deck plate and ten neutron rail guns appeared and immediately started laying down return fire at the Hantoran craft.
“Maybe if you kicked the control bank, this craft might go faster. Can’t you make that happ’n Capt’n?” the Empress needled.
Under his breath Novax muttered, “I’d like to kick something else…”