But not much of it, not with a muzzle velocity of over two thousand meters a second and less than a mile to travel. Just enough to allow Kralik and the gunner to follow the trajectory and see the fifteen-kilo penetrator strike the hull of the Ekhat warship. They managed to get off four shots before the submarine’s own trajectory carried them past the Ekhat central pyramid and Kralik called off the firing.
The computer immediately confirmed what had been Kralik’s own estimate. The four turrets able to bring their guns into line had hit the Ekhat warship with fifteen out of sixteen rounds. Kralik’s own turret had fired the only miss, and that simply because it was the first in line. Kralik’s last shot had been fired after the submarine carried too far past the enemy. The penetrator sailed off into solar oblivion, adding its own miniscule trace of heavy elements to the untold jillions of tons already there.
“Didn’t look like much,” muttered the gunner, half-complaining.
Half, but only half. Like Kralik, the gunner was an experienced tanker. The Ekhat ship was so gigantic that neither one of them had expected the pyrotechnics that always resulted when a DU penetrator hit another tank. But they knew full well that fifteen sabot rounds would have turned the inside of that ship into a charnel house. That much of it, at least, that the rounds could penetrate.
From the outside, it didn’t look like much. Fifteen holes, mere inches in diameter, stitched across a vast surface. But once those projectiles penetrated the thin shell of the Ekhat ship, each of them would turn into an explosion of uranium fire. A bloom of sheer heat which would ignite almost anything it touched.
When it hit a tank squarely, a DU penetrator essentially incinerated everything inside. That wouldn’t happen here, with the much greater volume of the Ekhat ship to absorb the blow. Neither Kralik nor Aguilera really knew exactly what would happen under these circumstances. But what they suspected, was that the explosions would send molten and half-molten droplets of metal and other substances scattering through the Ekhat ships. If they were all designed like the Interdict ship—and the Jao records seemed to indicate as much—that huge central chamber would become an abattoir. A good portion of it, at least.
His previous fear was gone, now, replaced by cold fury and something that was almost battle lust. Kralik didn’t expect to survive, and for the first time in his life understood something of what the ancient berserks must have felt.
“Damn, that Jao bastard’s good!” exclaimed the gunner.
Indeed so. Somehow, Aille had converted another careening granular swoop into a flank attack on a second Ekhat warship. Bringing the submarine even closer than before, less than half a mile away at its nearest approach.
Unfortunately, the passage was also even faster, so neither Kralik nor any of the other turrets were able to get off more than two shots. And, again, Kralik’s last shot sailed off as the submarine carried past the target.
Chapter 37
The discordance was extreme, true, with whole ranks of Huilek swept aside in mid-ululation. Still, the blazing fireflowers brought ecstasy to the Point and Counterpoint, causing them to shift into their own frenzied syncopation.
Short-lived, though, much too short-lived. Another series of percussive fireflowers removed the Counterpoint’s legs; then, another series ruptured the Counterpoint altogether and turned its remains into a blazing pyre.
For a moment, the Point tried to maintain the dance alone. But the Critic intervened.
End the dance. We are under attack. The leitmotif creatures must resume their normal posts.
The Point was confused, even more than it was outraged. Attack was impossible within a sun. But then, observing more ranks of Huilek destroyed by another percussive round, the Point was forced to shed that function-mode. The Melodist emerged and began shouting commands.
To your posts! To your posts!
Many of the Huilek had already broken ranks, fleeing toward the far gate of the choreochamber. The Melodist crushed several in the way of reprimand before giving up the enterprise. Futile in the face of such discordance. Best to begin a new melody altogether. It began striding toward the gate.