Four on the Floor

The Broadaxe was a balanced warship. The crew that rebuilt this one did not want balance. They wanted everything the hull could carry pointed in one direction and firing at once, and they were willing to give up the rest of the ship to get it. They got it. Six heavy mounts feed off a power plant that has nothing else to run, slaved to a salvage co-processor that does one job and does it the instant a target crosses the line. The fuel tank holds enough to limp from one ambush to the next and not a drop more. The armor is decorative. The hull folds the moment anything fires back. So nothing fires back. The trick is not surviving the fight. The trick is making sure the target never understands there is one. It waits at the narrow place — the gate everyone has to pass, the lane there is no way around — and it does not move, because moving is the one thing it is genuinely bad at. The target comes to it. The target always comes to it. By the time the sensors resolve six torpedo signatures it is already over. Drag it into open space and chase a real ship with it and you will watch it die slow and confused, out of fuel, out of range, out of luck. Leave it parked on the throat of a system and it is the most lethal thing for its size that anyone has ever been stupid enough to fly toward.