The carrier drives off Redledger with a single restored barrel and point-defense timing. Mara reports that the rec...
Barrel One turned with a sound like a crane dying in its sleep, too slow for the missile streaking toward the ore barge and too heavy for Iron Hallow's wounded port armor. Orin Vale swore at the manual wheel and shoved his shoulder into the brace. The targeting reticle lagged half a degree behind Redledger's flank burn.
"Cone edge in four seconds," Juno Pax called. Her tethered sensor drone still hung outside the maintenance blister, cable whining against debris dust. "Missile is legal inside three."
Senn Orbit held the carrier in its ugly coast. "If I burn, we lose the return fuel."
Kael Veyr watched the pirate corvette slide along the defense boundary, daring the old carrier to waste a shot. "No burn. Orin, fire when the missile crosses the barge line, not before."
The ore captain shouted over comm, "If you miss, we all die with your paperwork clean!"
"If I fire early," Kael said, "you die after Veyr lawyers ground every escort that tries to help you."
The missile crossed the logged line.
Orin fired.
The barrel spat one burst, paused, then spat again. The first stream carved bright chips from the missile's nose. The second caught its engine. Fragments bloomed across the defense cone and hammered Iron Hallow's port side hard enough to throw Kael against the navigation rail.
Down in engineering, Mara Quell's voice ripped through the bridge channel. "Recoil came through Frame Twelve. Port fracture reopened. Do not fire that barrel like it belongs to a living ship."
Redledger answered with another missile, lower, trying to cut under the cone toward the last barge. Orin dragged the manual wheel back, teeth bared.
Tavia Renn's voice cut in from the compact station. "Weapons activation was approved for debris intercept and defensive fire. It was not approved for a duel."
"Then vote fast," Orin snapped. "The pirate is not waiting for minutes."
Kael looked at the display. Redledger had exposed its missile rack to keep the shot low. One clean burst would either break the rack or shred the carrier's own barrel mount. The crew compact slate glowed beside Tavia, every bridge hand staring at it as another alarm shook the deck.
"Motion," Kael said. "One more defensive burst at the incoming missile and exposed rack only. No pursuit. No third shot without new vote."
Mara barked, "Add hull cost to that motion. Frame Twelve needs full patching if he takes it."
"Added," Tavia said. "Crew, mark your vote."
The tally crawled while the missile closed. Kael hated every red light on the panel and every second he had asked other people to spend. Then Tavia said, "Approved. Narrow."
"Orin."
The old gunner did not answer with words. Barrel One coughed, caught, and threw its last ready stream across Redledger's nose. The incoming missile burst first. The remaining rounds raked the corvette's open rack, not enough to kill the ship but enough to shear a launcher loose. It spun away, venting propellant and hot metal.
"Juno," Kael said. "Can your drone tag that rack?"
Juno's face went white. "The tether is already near abrasion limit."
Redledger rolled hard, trying to put its broken rack between debris and dark. The salvage window would begin when weapons silence held. Twelve minutes, if they could get a beacon on the hardware before any Veyr insurer or pirate recovery drone claimed it as anonymous battle scrap.
The ore captain came back breathless. "Escort, that rack nearly killed my aft barge. Tag it."
Juno's hand shook over the drone controls. "If the cable parts, I lose the drone."
"A drone is cheaper than a claim," Orin said.
"It is not cheap to her," Mara snapped.
Kael kept his eyes on Juno, not on the escaping corvette. "Your call on whether the drone can survive. Not mine."
That changed the bridge more than an order would have. Juno swallowed, then set her jaw and gave the drone three short thruster taps. The feed lurched through static. The small machine skated past missile fragments, cable sparking as debris dust chewed the sheath. A salvage beacon blinked in its clamp, amber until contact.
Redledger fired no third missile. It burned away from the convoy, wounded but alive, its stolen registry squawk stuttering.
"Weapons silence," Tavia said, marking the time.
Juno drove the drone under the tumbling rack. The first clamp missed. The beacon scraped along torn metal and spun clear.
"Again," Kael said softly.
"I know," Juno whispered.
She fired the drone's last side puff. The clamp bit. Amber became green.
On the public claim channel, Iron Hallow's registry code appeared beside the pirate hardware: claimant, Kael Veyr; witness, Ashgate ore convoy; defensive engagement logged.
A cheer began on the bridge and died when another groan ran through the carrier's port side. Mara sent a damage image to every screen. The old patch had split into a jagged crescent, not open to vacuum yet, but close enough that the next hard turn would make it honest.
"Your salvage is worth less than the patch," Mara said.
Tavia added the numbers before Kael could ask. "Convoy fee pays fuel and dock locks. The fracture eats all of it and then some."
The ore captain's voice, smaller now, said, "We will testify."
Kael watched Redledger shrink beyond legal range. He had not captured a ship. He had not won enough money. He had bought a claim with a damaged hull, one strained barrel, and a drone cable that finally snapped as Juno reeled it home.
The beacon stayed green on the tumbling pirate rack, and a new channel opened before anyone could celebrate.
Veyr Exchange Insurance filed an immediate objection to the salvage claim.