SF Drabble #271 “Grandpa’s War”

There were moments I was so afraid my hands shook; but I kept it up regardless. There were windows back then, thick, reinforced, hard as hullmetal but transparent. They don’t build them like that now, because of lasers. But we’d see a flash outside, a fireball that would snuff out in the vacuum of space before you really got your eye on it. Over the loudspeaker we’d hear, “Hornet destroyed.” Then there’d be another, further off, and we’d hear, “B-type enemy battleship destroyed,” and we’d all cheer.

We never got hit once, in eight engagements. I guess I was lucky.

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