At The Mercy Of A Vampire

The Wanderer-7 cleared the debris ridge at six kilometers per second and on the screen, its turret moved.

CLANK... WHIRRR!

The twin barrels on its dorsal spine swung forty-five degrees and locked dead center on the Black Kite's port engine housing.

Lock!

Every single woman tied to that pipe knew exactly what came next since they'd felt it through the deck more than a hundred times by now. 

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!

Four tungsten penetrators left the muzzles in one continuous deafening blue flash.

KRA-KOOOOOOOOOM!

Two of them punched clean through the Kite's slate-armor belt and ripped straight through the secondary fuel manifold, tearing a four-meter trench of structural ribs out of the port flank. 

…A massive eruption of burning green deuterium plasma blasted out into the void and spun the whole ninety-meter raider thirty degrees off its axis with a bone-jarring shudder!

SCREEEEEEEEEECH!

The bridge buckled.