Southern Cross by Windstar

If the rest of the Guardians were a sword, then she was it's tip. North Star plunged into energy
range and her plasma canons opened fire. At this range and with so many targets in front of her,
there was little chance of missing. The canons were devastating, overloading Bak'ra shield
generators, and then punching holes in armor whose thickness was measured in meters.
"Shieri, Now."
At her fighter commander's signal fighters in the surviving Tiri fleet launched from their hanger
bays. The Guardian class ships each held almost a hundred of the small fragile craft, while the
cruisers held an even dozen each. All told there were almost ten thousand fighters that launched
in the space of a few short seconds. They were fragile, that was true, and if they lacked the
missiles to be decisive in a long distance engagement, they were built for this sort of close in
fighting.
With the clouds of fighters surrounding them the Tiri ships once more sliced into the Bak'ra
formation. Forcing those ships that had been firing on the dying fort to turn their attention on the
oncoming Tiri.
All human Guardians, target Gravitic lance.
Eighty surviving Guardians powered up the massive weaponry that was built into the
hammerhead bow of their ship selves.
Pick your targets.
Sensors locked onto the largest ships they could find.
Ready.
The range crept down, the Bak'ra ships were returning energy weapon fire now as well, more and
more ships were simply disintegrating in fireballs. Dogfights between the larger Bak'ra fighters
and the Imperial fighters whirled through space in a deadly dance.
Fire.
The Bak'ra hadn't known what had hit them at the Asteroid belt.
They knew now though.
Knew what those terrible weapons were, and that they were fired by the new Guardian class
ships.
And the knowledge didn't save them.
Nearly a hundred of the largest Bak'ra ships, five kilometers of warship each, vomited fire. If the
Plasma Canons were effective at this range, the Gravitic Lance was like the first of god coming